Chapter 54: The True Challenge Lies in Genuine Effort

Dong Xueqing reminded him to call during the lunch break, between twelve and two-thirty. It was just right; after lunch, Weidong could go with the grocery shop owner to the post office to wire the payment. Their arrangement this time was clear: every time a thousand units were sold, the grocery shop owner would accompany Junwa to the post and telecommunications bureau to send the money. That way, Junwa never handled the funds himself; he simply reported the sales to the shop owner and got a bit of pocket money for daily expenses. The grocery shop owner, eager to maintain this stream of revenue, dared not delay the payments and even helped Weidong manage these two “sales agents.” There was no room for any tricks—merely the simple cycle of shipping, receiving, selling, and remitting. The two of them split the ten-yuan profit per unit almost evenly, and Weidong even reminded him to pay the taxes, which were minimal. Each week, they moved three thousand units per batch; if they didn’t sell out, they’d just keep the rest in stock. But the moment goods began to pile up, it would show in the payment speed. The shop owner assured him with a slap to his chest that there would be little left unsold; weekends brought even higher sales, and come May Day, when crowds pressed shoulder to shoulder, they could sell whatever remained.

Earning eighteen thousand a week, Weidong could hardly contain the urge to share his joy. Usually, he had to pretend it was just helping the factory move inventory, keeping it low-key and unspoken. Now, closing the soundproof door of the long-distance phone booth, he listened as the matron answered and called out the name loudly, as if the sound carried across space and time, surely reaching the dormitory.

Unexpectedly, Fengchu picked up the phone and burst into tears. “It’s me… is it you, big brother?” Weidong, having no experience with long-distance romance, was baffled. “What are you doing? Why are you crying? Has someone bullied you?” She sobbed harder, then tried to stifle it, covering her mouth and controlling herself. “No, no, never. I’ve just never answered a family phone call before…”

Even in high school, she’d never answered a phone; Weidong’s county school didn’t even have a phone, so he was just as puzzled. “What’s there to cry about? Hasn’t your sister called you?” Mentioning her sister made Dong Xueqing smile through her sniffles. “No… we save money. Have you sold your camera yet?”

Even Weidong, usually so straightforward, softened. “Do you still have living expenses? I’ll wire you some; give me your address. Last time, we had over four hundred units left, but when we came to West Lake, they sold out in a blink.” Dong Xueqing bounced with joy on the phone. “Really?! Really? You’re amazing! You’re incredible! Oh, this is the happiest thing ever!”

That kind of emotional affirmation made Weidong feel like a hydrogen balloon, floating up to the tiny ceiling of the phone booth. He couldn’t resist boasting in that enclosed space. “Then the second batch, twelve hundred units arrived, sold out in three days. Another week passed, and now the third batch of two thousand units is gone. From now on, every shipment will be three thousand units.”

Fengchu began to chirp excitedly. “Oh! Oh oh oh! Hahaha, I’m so happy, so excited, oh oh wow…” She didn’t know how she’d chosen that sound to celebrate, and Weidong leaned against the soundproof wall, basking in a kingly sense of pride.

The purest happiness in the world.

It was a feeling he’d never experienced before.

Yet in her joy, Dong Xueqing hadn’t forgotten to be thrifty. “How long have we been talking? Long-distance calls are expensive. I’m very well; I use the recorder every day. Are you still practicing Russian? I’ll check you when you come home. I use the camera, too. Sister gave me money, I bought two rolls of film to practice. I’m very well. Are you?”

Three simple words, nothing more, yet they made Weidong genuinely smile. “I’m very well. We’re about to head north—I’ve never been up there—to complete the trade deal for beef and mutton fat, then return. I hope all goes smoothly.”

For the first time, he felt the kind of encouragement and care that released his ambition to venture boldly into the world.

Dong Xueqing answered firmly, “I really hope that after graduation I can work hard alongside you. I want to help you as much as I can!” Weidong agreed and briefly explained the recent business process. He didn’t want to hang up, but didn’t know what else to say.

Fengchu listened attentively, asking when she didn’t understand, but seemed to be watching the time. “It’s almost ten minutes—calls are expensive. Hang up now and call sister; she should be home at noon.”

Fine. Weidong hung up reluctantly, checked his address book, and asked the counter outside for another long-distance number.

Again, a matron from the street called over a young woman, and Weidong felt as though he’d been transported to another world.

Where the previous call was filled with lively warmth, now it was gentle and tender, entirely accommodating.

Dong Xueying’s voice was soft. “Yes, things are good. The sand and gravel business and the agricultural and industrial mutual aid are running smoothly. I followed your advice, keeping profits low so women and children get some benefits. The city’s always watching, checking our books. I’ve assigned these parts to Li Erfeng’s mutual aid association account—she keeps asking about you.”

Her last words were teasing, making Weidong laugh.

The feeling was entirely different from when he spoke to Fengchu. “Ignore her. Don’t talk to me about love stories at a time like this—making money is what matters now.”

Wolong responded gently, and just from her tone, Weidong could picture her, lazy and reclined on the bed.

He hurried to business. “Have Erfeng find a few young men from the countryside, bring a batch of cured meat to Jiangzhou, and stay to work there. The camera business is profitable now; there’s frequent wire transfers. Make sure you’re safe; do you know about wire transfers?”

She said she did. “Old You and his crew often play those games. Wire transfers are the fastest, but there’s still time needed for reconciliation. Same-bank transfers can take two days, cross-bank three to five days or even half a month. They exploit this time gap, convincing buyers to send money first, then taking the transfer slip to the seller as payment, picking up the goods and delivering them.”

Weidong realized why Old You liked to boast about turning tens of thousands into millions, always failing, doing tons of useless work, and occasionally bragging about a successful deal.

That was the root of it.

“As soon as they’re released, persuade them to come to Jiangzhou. His skills are too much for rural Shangzhou—the pond is too small. You can help me there, and his part can be separate. I’ll handle the outside. Only after coming out do you realize how big the world is.”

Dong Xueying never said she wanted to go with him, only calmly and steadily agreed, explaining the current situation clearly, item by item.

Weidong felt comfortable; his father in Jiangzhou already felt overwhelmed.

All those tens of thousands flying around were nerve-wracking, nowhere near as peaceful as selling spicy hotpot with his wife.

They had a harmonious conversation for nearly ten minutes.

He heard a child cry, and Dong Xueying laughed, saying Xiaodie missed him.

Weidong, in a playful tone, greeted her. “…I saw foreign milk powder in Zhejiang, bought a few cans, and will bring them home to see if the child likes them. I’m bringing two hundred cameras north.”

Dong Xueying reminded him, “Could you call Xiaoqing and remind her about her studies? She’s working hard, but you should tell her to take care, eat well. She listens to you. The number is…”

Even Weidong, usually so single-minded, instinctively agreed, promising to write it down instead of admitting he’d already called.

He hung up, sweating a little, unsure why.

These two calls gave Weidong enough satisfaction to savor the drive from Zhejiang all the way to southern Henan—a feeling he’d never experienced. Just thinking of it made him feel at ease.

Of course, even though there were only five young men with him now, their long-haul journey was still comfortable.

Perhaps it was because everyone had been traveling for half a month, spending much of it in the bland-tasting Jiangsu and Zhejiang, where their spicy hotpot base had nearly become clear broth.

So, whenever they saw chili, they bought some, even if it lacked the fragrant oil and spice. Weidong would throw together ginger, garlic, and scallions with peppers to make a sauce, find someone to whip up a long barbecue tin tray, and thus began a delightful barbecue lifestyle on the road.

Any local food they encountered could be turned into barbecue.

Goudan was the most enthusiastic fan of this fragrant cuisine. In the mornings and afternoons, they’d eat whatever the local market offered, but in the evenings, barbecue was a must.

Most of the journey was across open plains, so the truck picked up speed, and in less than a week, they reached their destination in southern Henan.

There, they wondered if the place was even more boastful than You Qili—last year, they’d agreed to buy and slaughter beef and mutton fat, cottonseed oil in winter, then transport it to the southwest in spring.

But the place was empty, nothing like promised. They blamed it on losing contact since October, so they hadn’t dared invest or buy.

It turned out they were just middlemen.

Weidong didn’t waste words, refused any drinking or socializing, and drove away.

Another five or six hundred kilometers north, they reached the foot of the mountains on the northern Hebei plain, near the vast grasslands, where they indeed found a huge backlog of beef and mutton fat.

But there was a problem: You Qili, ever the grandiose schemer, had made a verbal agreement for a purchase of several thousand tons!

Even though the industrial beef and mutton fat cost less than a hundred yuan per ton,

the transport would still cost hundreds of thousands.

Even if the chemical factories in the Sichuan Basin, cut off from supplies and facing shutdown, could buy it for about one hundred twenty yuan per ton for soap and glycerin production,

it was a daunting task.

Given that You Qili was the kind of braggart who’d claim he could flatten the Himalayas to bring warm air to Xinjiang’s inland, and compared to the honest-looking oil merchants of northern Hebei, Weidong was inclined to believe the deal was real.

But the tough northern merchants’ complaints made him wary.

He’d just earned nearly a hundred thousand from titanium ingots in Zhejiang, pocketed nearly twenty thousand in camera profits, but couldn’t afford such a massive transaction.

And Weidong wasn’t the type to gamble everything—he needed to be able to bear failure, not risk his entire livelihood.

He had no desire to play Old You’s game with bank draft cycles.

But these northern oil merchants wouldn’t let him leave.

What now?