Chapter 68: A Fleeting Moment of Light and Shadow

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In truth, Wei Dong himself was merely a curious bystander, observing the photocopier of the eighties. He was astonished to discover that this Ricoh electrostatic copier, which had reportedly been in operation for two or three years, was hardly any different from the copiers and office laser printers of thirty years later! The craftsmanship of the exterior was just as refined, the operation just as convenient and simple—only, where the future would commonly feature touchscreens, this machine had several colored buttons instead. At this moment in time, a single unit cost tens of thousands! The employees operating the copier considered themselves impressive technological experts, carrying out their work with a certain pride, as if wielding high technology. The vocational students from the Postal and Telecommunications School watched in awe, though upon seeing Wei Dong’s calm demeanor, they quickly composed themselves.

Wei Dong had originally intended to leave his secretary there, with six or seven agreements in hand: “Make three copies of each. In the future, Rongdu will keep a set, Old Jin can have one if he comes, I’ll take the originals plus a copy, and who knows if Jiangzhou will need one. You stay here and oversee things; I’ll head to the newspaper office first.”

Zhang Lanzhi replied unhurriedly, “Perhaps these agreements should be brought to the press station as well. The journalists and their leaders might need to review them.”

Her words were reasonable enough. So Wei Dong had to patiently wait with the group.

Meanwhile, he spent his time in the rather upscale hotel’s business center, purchasing a heap of film—both color and black-and-white. He noticed a shop next door that made seals, which prompted him to order two personal seals and one “for the exclusive use of the film exhibition.” He would pick them up the next day.

Dong Xueqing, always curious and sticking close to him, pleaded, “Make one for me too! What’s the meaning of this exclusive seal?”

Wei Dong, ever obliging, pursued the matter for her and explained quietly, “For example, your identity… If you need to photocopy your household registration book for some official business, but I take the copy and use it for something improper, wouldn’t that be exploited by bad actors? So stamping the copy with an exclusive seal—if something happens, we can disclaim responsibility. Handwriting would suffice, but having a seal makes us look more official.”

Unconsciously, he never hid anything from Dong Xueqing. After all, they would soon be partners swapping planes together. But to the young girl, it sounded as if they were family, sweet and joyful.

The female secretary, dressed in casual clothes and standing at a distance with folded arms, looked even more aloof.

Upon returning to the truck and heading for the press station, he noticed the girl in the middle seat repeatedly raising the camera, sometimes snapping a picture of the driver.

At last, she spoke up, rare for her: “Your aperture and shutter speed are wrong. In these indoor conditions, you need a slower shutter speed. And for close shots like this, open the aperture as wide as possible for shallow depth of field.”

There were no online tutorials or distilled guides; vocational students learned by struggling through the manual, begrudging the waste of film to verify their results—a true half-baked effort.

Hearing such a professional tone, she knew she’d lost, and looked to the driver for rescue.

Unexpectedly, her brother-in-law, whom she’d always thought omnipotent, scratched his head and admitted, “Ah, if I knew how to use such a professional camera, I wouldn’t have advocated for a simple point-and-shoot.”

So the “Phoenix Chick” pouted, her rationality as a technical student coming to the fore, and handed the camera to Secretary Zhang. “Would you please take some photos for us later? I still have twenty-five shots left; I’d like to learn from you.”

The typist from the camera factory picked up the SLR and said simply, “Back in the factory, I often used Hong Kong cameras to take photos for visiting leaders and partner units.”

Her words were brief, but her pride was unmistakable.

Dong Xueqing glanced at Wei Dong, who happened to turn and face her with a mischievous grin. She burst silently into a blossom of laughter, sitting in the middle and eagerly seeking advice from the secretary on photography.

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She was a child who’d grown up in the city’s alleys, and no matter how much her sister shielded her, she was more worldly than the greenhouse flowers raised in state-run factories. She was wonderfully adept at winning favor.

Wei Dong, amused, quietly piloted the truck to the city center. He didn’t know where the famous commercial street or pedestrian avenue of the future would be, but he followed the map to the central junction, looking for the most crowded area.

He parked the big truck at the entrance of an alley and asked the secretary, who had the camera, to guard the vehicle: “If the police come to chase us off, say a few words for us. We’ll be back soon.”

With a glance, he led Phoenix Chick into the teeming, bustling street nearby.

Having seen the marketplaces of Hu Hai, Ping Jing, even Ji Cheng and Zhe Zhou, towns and villages across the land, he found this place the most crowded. The Su Jing Road in Hu Hai certainly had more people, but those century-old streets were vast and grand, department stores towering, the atmosphere magnificent.

Here, however, the shops were jammed tightly together, with countless vendors extending their racks and wares onto the street, squeezing the path down to a narrow strip just a few people wide.

With seemingly no city management to restrict them, the street itself became a marketplace, everyone striving for an advantage.

Thus, the citizens shopping here were packed like sardines, as if weaving through the living rooms of strangers.

Dong Xueqing exclaimed, “So many clothes! I bought yours at the school gate, but this is what they call the Youth Road clothing market, right?”

Wei Dong only knew that this area would, for decades, be the fashion center of all Rongdu, even the source of trends for counties and cities across Sichuan.

It reminded him of that wholesale market forming around the textile supply station at the Jiangzhou docks, which, after crackdowns on various criminals, would surely explode into the major commercial hub for eastern Sichuan and the Yangtze River.

Unlike here, which relied on goods from all corners of the province, that market drew merchants from along the Yangtze, pushing wholesalers to seek higher-grade supplies from Jiangsu, Zhejiang, and Guangdong’s coastal regions.

This was common knowledge often referenced in tax work.

The highest-grossing wholesale market in Sichuan was always in the provincial capital, though which street or district would rise and fall over the decades was uncertain. Yet, just as Jiangzhou dominated its riverbank location, the city center’s prominence would never waver.

So, he responded instinctively, “When we return to Jiangzhou, we ought to look for opportunities at the wharf’s wholesale market. Even if we open a shop there, we’ll make good money. We shouldn’t run into the troubles that closed down Old You’s trading company.”

His mind spun with these thoughts as he briskly moved through the crowd, mostly observing the free market’s trends—whether there were tax agents, police, or market managers.

Rongdu’s openness was no less than Jiangzhou’s.

If the provincial capital was like this, how long before prefectural cities and counties caught up?

He vaguely recalled that this situation would undergo repeated upheavals, and those who thrived now might soon be suppressed.

Just as Yu Songhai had warned him, what he said at the Ping Jing college forum had been deemed inappropriate and stopped from publication.

Now, without You Qili as a shield, what would he do?

Dong Xueqing looked up at his contemplative face, still marked by traces of youthful acne, yet full of clear, diligent thought.

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How could she not admire him?

But she wouldn’t allow herself to become infatuated, instead trying hard to broaden her gaze and observe her surroundings.

She learned to look at things as Wei Dong did: “Whether it’s the folks in Shangzhou making small trades, or the street vendors selling baked cakes and leaf-wrapped rice outside the school gate, they all make decent money, even if their status isn’t high. Who says they’ll lose everything if some campaign comes along? It’s unstable.”

Wei Dong scoffed, “Stability? Those who pursue stable jobs, iron rice bowls, always end up as lambs waiting for slaughter. I…”

He had meant to say that after forty years in the sanitation business, he’d learned nothing and dared not leave his comfort zone, enduring the old hag’s tyranny.

But, connecting it to the present, he continued, “Weren’t those factories unstable for the past twenty years? Everyone thought state-run factories were iron rice bowls; once they were cut, people couldn’t afford to eat and turned to crime. So never stay stable too long—people become dull and useless.”

Even hearing this theory for the first time, the bright vocational student understood easily. “Mm, I’ll keep working to improve myself with you.”

It was a short street, barely three or four hundred meters, that Wei Dong walked through in no time.

He didn’t notice how much he was reshaping the girl’s worldview and outlook, nor how, in the crush of people, Dong Xueqing clung tightly to his arm to avoid being swept away.

Turning back, feeling confident, he said, “That dress looks nice—go buy it. I see a pair of pants over there that are great; I’ll buy them for you.”

It was pure masculine pragmatism—no thought for the joy women take in choosing and matching clothes, just completing the task and moving on.

Dong Xueqing thought she was only scouting the market, yet found herself with a bundle of warm cash in her hand!

She watched as Wei Dong, without hesitation, slipped his arm free and, with the determination of a freestyle swimmer, cut through the crowd to another shop.

A few minutes later, after roughly gesturing his height and build to the shopkeeper, he returned with two pairs of trendy flared trousers!

He’d even cleverly bought a pair of mid-heeled leather shoes on the way. The vendor asked for the size, but he just approximated by height, saying they could exchange them later if needed.

Making his way back, he found Phoenix Chick still agonizing, “Did you mean black or white? White looks nice, but it gets dirty so easily. Would black seem old-fashioned?”

Regardless of age, women shopping have this nature—buying isn’t the goal; it’s the process of comparing and choosing that matters most.

Wei Dong was straightforward, “Just buy both. Change into the pants and shoes, see how they look… Start with the white dress.”

The girl had never changed clothes outside before. Seeing the curtain in the corner and the crowded shop, she blushed and pulled Wei Dong to stand guard outside, unable to contain her excitement.

She chattered behind the curtain, “Should I give the black one to my sister? Is it too tight? Oh, it’s so stretchy. Are you there, brother?”

Wei Dong was stunned by a fleeting glimpse through the curtain next door, quickly twisting his head to avoid being caught as a pervert, and firmly pressed this curtain down. “I’m here, right here. Just change.”

The silhouetted figure against the light on the curtain—nineteen years old—became a memory he would never erase from his heart.