Chapter 67: Who Is Guarding Against Whom?

In truth, there were already people tempted to buy two cameras by the basketball court. They had to call classmates back to the dormitory to pool their money—who would bring such a hefty sum to play ball? Yet what Wei Dong cared about was never just these few sales or the immediate gains. Everyone agreed to meet again tomorrow afternoon to play ball and take photos.

He lingered with these college students until nearly ten, when the lights were about to go out, reluctantly bidding farewell. “Their skills really are much better than our roughplaying in the countryside—every move has its form.”

Dong Xueqing busied herself on tiptoes, wiping his sweat, making the other boys, scattering in groups, glance back repeatedly with envy. Such a radiant girl, her gaze never leaving him, circling around: “So you like playing basketball this much? I never saw you do it in Shangzhou.”

She giggled, poking the muscular young man’s biceps.

“A young lady shouldn’t be so familiar. Was there any chance to play basketball in Shangzhou? Unless you went to the middle school…” Wei Dong feigned annoyance, pushing her hand away. “Actually, I think I’ve figured out a way to sell cameras. No matter where I go—the provincial capital—I can just head to the university basketball courts, play ball, get acquainted, recruit a few to sell cameras. It seems like this could really work.”

Fengchu’s eyes shone with the same wow, you’re amazing admiration as always. And she kept up with his thinking: “Last time, even after I returned to school, I kept wondering how you thought to sell cameras by the West Lake. Don’t all sellers go to department stores, hardware shops, supply cooperatives? This time, you’ve surprised everyone by finding college students to sell goods.”

That was the great bug of the era. The so-called nationwide “speculator” tide hadn’t begun yet; private business could easily be accused of wrongdoing. Wei Dong cobbled together a model that was part distributor, part internet social direct sales: “When I get to Pingjing, I’ll definitely look for scenic spot kiosks like at West Lake. But Pingjing Square isn’t the same—so strict, who’d dare set up a stall? I tried several places and felt my method wouldn’t work, then went to the university for a symposium and suddenly everything opened up. I tell you, I’d attended several symposiums before, but none were like this…”

No matter how beautiful a woman, if she was cold and unresponsive, or if she stared only at material things like in later short videos and TV dramas—bride price, cars, houses, savings, handbags—the conversation was dry and flavorless. Little Fengchu was so much more interesting, listening intently and thinking along, always sincere in her admiration.

At least she was easier to inflate Wei Dong’s ego than Madam Shi, who always struck a guiding pose, or Secretary Zhang, who maintained her elegant manner except when eating.

He drove off, continuing enthusiastically: “So, combining popular scenic spots with college students’ active participation, I believe we can break new ground.”

Dong Xueqing understood: “The Jinjiang Park Jinjiang Pavilion is indeed the most famous, oldest scenic spot in Rongdu city. I remember it’s a garden commemorating a Tang Dynasty female poet. Are we going to visit tomorrow? I’m so happy—I’ve never gone on a spring outing in Rongdu.”

A country boy, he’d long grown tired of the wild scenery across the land. “This isn’t a spring outing; it’s for business. All right, go back to your dorm and rest. Come for lunch tomorrow; don’t miss class if you have any in the afternoon.”

Only then did the vocational student notice the truck had returned to the gate of the Postal Telecom School. She was surprised: “Didn’t you say that special secretary got her scent on your clothes? I’m supposed to help you deal with her. Hurry!”

Whatever Wei Dong said, she never doubted, always actively supporting and trusting him.

Well, this was the main reason he’d come looking for Fengchu. A few minutes’ drive at night and he was back.

The vocational student was diligent, gathering Wei Dong’s military jacket, shirt, and the towel hanging behind the seat. “All sweat, and other women’s scent. I’ll wash them all clean for you. How’s your Russian now?”

Rarely did she check his studies, making Wei Dong feel guilty, but luckily, he saw Gou Dan and the others outside the guesthouse, setting up their iron barbecue box, skillfully preparing midnight snacks.

Now they jumped up, waving at the truck: “We saved lamb and eggplant for you!”

Sitting nearby, her cheeks reddened by the coals, Zhang Lanzhi rose as well, with no joy in her movements, quietly hiding the bamboo skewer behind her back.

Her checkered shirt had a tied collar, her dark blue Soviet-style skirt wasn’t as tight as the later pencil skirts, but still accentuated her graceful figure. Her tall, broad shoulders, covered by a beige cashmere cardigan, added a dignified air of a true lady.

Such a beautiful, striking female agent!

Dong Xueqing was surprised; she wore the most ordinary deep blue cloth, cheap and faded from repeated washing, made by the tailor in her hometown. Among classmates, she’d never felt embarrassed, but now she couldn’t help tugging at it nervously.

Yet her youthful charm made the secretary take notice, scrutinizing her. In fact, after the Spring Festival, Dong Xueqing had gone to Xishan Factory, and the secretary had seen her with the factory leaders; her work ID was made by the secretary herself.

Wei Dong took the opportunity to introduce: “Xiao Qing is a top student from the Postal Telecom School, also a sales staff with a Xishan Factory work ID. We need to travel around, so she’ll help Comrade Zhang at the Rongdu provincial office.”

He left it at that, and Dong Xueqing, like a little hunting dog let loose, chattered away at Zhang Lanzhi.

Where can we wash clothes and shower? Gou Dan, help park the truck and sort out brother’s luggage; everything needs to be washed. Did you take good care of him?

Gou Dan and the others were terrified by the city girl’s nagging, scattering like frightened mice.

The previously silent, enthusiastic female soldier had to pack up as well.

It worked out well, letting the two girls rest at the office while the boys slept comfortably in the truck.

It was said that Dong Xueqing washed Wei Dong’s travel-worn clothes until midnight.

She perfectly inherited the tradition of Sichuan East women taking care of their men.

Early the next morning, she bought breakfast and brought it to the truck before rushing back to school.

Wei Dong woke up comfortably, eating mung bean porridge and egg pancakes from a tea mug while nestled in a hay pile, only to realize—aside from his sleeping vest and shorts, all his clothes had been found and washed by Fengchu!

Men on the road care a bit about food, but clothes are just thrown together. One outfit would journey from south to north, shirts and underwear rinsed only occasionally.

Even by Wei Dong’s hygiene standards forty years later, a girl who dressed older clothes could always guarantee cleanliness and tidiness. She wanted to scrub him from head to toe.

A straightforward man wouldn’t feel warm and grateful, just annoyed. The happy bachelors in the compound all grew miserable after marriage—so this was why.

He tried to borrow clothes from Gou Dan and the others, but they were even dirtier and smellier. He ended up cursing them all to go shower and wash.

The secretary, meanwhile, sat serenely on the rattan chair outside the office, reading under the spring sun.

This was the typical air of people around Rongdu.

Wei Dong lounged in the truck, wrapped in a towel and blanket, lazily basking for half a day.

By ten, forced to wear still damp clothes to head out to the press office, Dong Xueqing bounced back, agile as ever.

She held several brand new garments and a pair of high-top Warrior basketball shoes—ten or so yuan a pair, quite expensive.

Wei Dong had always worn suede shoes or liberation shoes—not because he couldn’t afford new ones, but found them too flashy.

He took them, surprised: “Where did you get the money? And you’re still dressed like that?”

Fengchu even tiptoed to peek at the shorts-clad man in the truck: “Didn’t my sister give me money for school this time? Left a hundred, said in case the unit had to entertain teachers or leaders. You took all yours off to wash, so I bought a vest and shorts.”

She didn’t blush at all.

Wei Dong hastily dressed: “Then I’ll buy you some clothes later. You’re working now, should look the part. Not bad—you know how to shop.”

She was a city girl, after all, studying in the provincial capital, and though she stayed mostly on campus, she’d seen plenty. Instead of common shirts and military jackets, she’d found a deep blue sports jacket with two stripes on the sleeve, not paired with matching pants but gray work trousers—durable and loose, perfect for basketball.

He was already the trendsetter of this era.

Dong Xueqing nearly climbed into the truck to help him dress, beaming as she pulled out the SLR camera hanging behind: “Let me take your picture.”

No matter how low-key, he never cared for fashion at the time. Wei Dong finally felt a touch of warmth inside.

He joked, pleased: “I deliberately dress so rustic—no need to puff up and brag about how much we’ve earned. Now it’s impossible to hide my melancholy eyes, scruffy beard, and ha ha ha… I forgot the rest.”

Dong Xueqing didn’t care about film lines, laughing and raising the camera to take his photo.

But she was clumsy and stubborn about photography, insisting on peering through the viewfinder to compose the shot, unable to simply snap over the truck’s side.

Not far away, Zhang Lanzhi frowned slightly, watching this silly happiness.

Finally, as they were about to leave, she stood up and asked to join them, needing to go to Rongjin Hotel to copy those agreements.

They still had to sell cameras in the afternoon. They exchanged quick glances.

Clearly, this was an assignment from Xishan Factory to have the secretary keep tabs, to figure out how the cameras were being sold.

They would have to be on guard.