Chapter 73: Fortune Favors the Bold, Want Starves the Timid; Moderation and Frequent Meals Are Best

Three hundred thousand. In terms of purchasing power, that was almost equivalent to three million, or even tens of millions in later years.

Wei Dong now had about three hundred thousand in cash on hand. He had made over sixty thousand before the Spring Festival, and after the holiday, since he shipped out two tons, and in March sent another two tons to Zhenjiang, Junwa and his team expertly collected and transported the goods back to Zhezhou, summoning the factory to West Lake to pick up the batch and make a wire transfer.

Those two shipments brought in nearly two hundred thousand in pure profit. Selling more than twenty thousand cameras netted another hundred thousand or so. It meant Wei Dong had almost emptied his pockets of all the money he’d made since the New Year.

Because he felt that three hundred thousand was burning a hole in his hand!

Having once gone to prison for selling sunflower seeds, he was now wary. Spending time with Yu Songhai and the newspaper office in recent days, perhaps influenced by Zhang Lanzhi, he found himself enjoying more idle hours reading newspapers and books under the guesthouse eaves or at teahouses by the river.

This gave Wei Dong a chance to seriously reflect on his business dealings over the past half year and realize he’d lost control of the pace—he was making money too fast!

Clear cases were printed in the papers: in the neighboring province, a famous actor, also a well-known film star, partnered with a petroleum executive to buy low and sell high for huge profits—seventy thousand in two or three years—and ended up with nothing. Although there were likely some illegal elements in that, even forty years later it wouldn’t have warranted the harshest sentence.

With his kind of income—ten or twenty thousand a month—maybe in ten years it would be fine, but right now it was simply too conspicuous, an easy target for retribution.

No wonder they say “the bold starve the cautious, but the brave get rich.” Now he understood.

He began pondering whether he should pay back taxes on those titanium ingots. But then he worried that would only draw more attention.

What to do?

He’d also been mulling over how to advertise for the electrical appliance factories these past few days. Following Yu Songhai and the newspaper editor, he attended a joint meeting of electronics manufacturers in Rongdu a couple days ago.

More than a dozen military electronics and state-run appliance factories from around Rongdu were there. Forced to shift from military to civilian production and from planned to market economy, most still carried themselves with an air of arrogance.

If not for the enthusiastic endorsement of the Sunshine Daily, and the fact that he really had turned the West Mountain Factory’s losses into profit, these people wouldn’t have given this young man the time of day.

This was the provincial capital, not some backwater like West Mountain or Red Light Factory tucked away in the hills. These factories were all in the suburbs or even the city center, at most forty or fifty kilometers out. Even if their conversion to civilian sales wasn’t going well, there were plenty of clever people in the plant eager for lucrative sales or procurement roles. They had all sorts of connections with the province, the municipality, and even the national market—nothing like the blind groping of the mountain factories.

So they didn’t think much of Wei Dong, but agreed he could advertise and sell any of their products, and any order he brought in would be credited to Dongsheng Trading Company.

It was a show of respect for the Sunshine Daily.

Having just registered his own trading company, Wei Dong didn’t really care about the attitude of these soon-to-be-bankrupt state-run factories.

He quietly sorted through their products to see if anything was worth promoting and selling.

It was all TVs, cassette recorders, radios, water heaters, and gas stoves. Each product was made by several factories.

TVs were too expensive—Wei Dong preferred cash-and-carry, no credit, and each transaction could tie up tens of thousands, which was risky. Radios were too cheap, and besides, they’d been folded into cassette recorders. Water heaters and gas stoves required dealing with the gas company and all sorts of connections, not suitable for simple consumer sales.

With the cassette recorder, though, he’d already mastered the “learning foreign languages” angle as a selling point, and he intended to capitalize on it.

Yanwu recorders had grown fat on a single advertisement in this era; Wei Dong was confident he could copy that formula and cash in.

But instead of another awkward dance like Yanwu, he thought he could make a better commercial. After watching so many short videos and comedy skits, he was sure he could come up with something fresh.

His ideas, though, were stuck—he had plenty of inspiration but couldn’t quite articulate it.

Then he saw a chubby panda, and instantly his mind lit up. What advertising star could compare to a panda?

So, under the pressure of these two factors, Wei Dong convinced himself he could always earn more in the future, and suddenly the three hundred thousand became a charitable donation in his mind.

Even if he spent tens of thousands to invite pandas as advertising stars, it would still be worth it.

The tax authorities understood: charitable donations weren’t taxable—he could count this as laundering all his titanium ingot sales.

But he was perhaps a bit too flashy about it.

In the zoo’s office, Wei Dong called his father and asked him to wire three hundred thousand to the zoo’s account.

Father Let was never one to worry his son had been scammed into transferring a fortune—he just grunted and hurried off to buy groceries.

By the afternoon, the zoo had received the telegram confirming the funds.

Faced with a group of animal experts who had never before seen such a large private domestic donation, Wei Dong said it was a charitable gift, signed a donation agreement, and secured three opportunities to have pandas appear in promotions to help publicize the national treasure. That was considered a bonus, not a commercial transaction.

They were happy to do as he asked, as long as the money was in hand.

Feng Chu spent the whole day happily playing with pandas!

The college students and Gou Dan, who were usually busy selling cameras around the zoo, sneaked into the panda enclosure and were astonished to see Dong Xueqing sitting among the pandas, playing with them!

Many of the cameras they’d sold were snapping away, capturing this beautiful young woman in harmony with the pandas—a stunning scene.

Wei Dong only realized upon entering the panda house that the zoo had, for the first time ever, taken in forty or fifty pandas!

They were split between the zoo and a remote base in the mountains, but there was not enough room. The cost of feeding and treating them was enormous.

Over ten had already died, and more than twenty were still being rescued.

So now, the zoo was desperately fundraising to establish a breeding and research base, and Wei Dong’s three hundred thousand was the first major domestic private donation toward that cause.

Wei Dong tentatively asked if he could get a VIP pass to visit the pandas each year, and the experts said, “Of course.”

He repeatedly insisted they not notify the media or disclose his name—if he made more money, he promised, he would give more to the pandas.

Later generations would know just how important these pandas were.

The Panda Research Institute wanted to give him a plaque as their top donor, warmly inviting him to visit anytime.

A donor like this—rich and undemanding—was more precious than government grants.

In the end, they presented him with an honorary certificate, stamped with the official seal, and Dongsheng Trading’s donation number was 0001—a freshly made award.

Wei Dong didn’t mention it until he’d left and returned to the city, when he sternly told the conflicted Jin Zhuoqun not to tell Yu Songhai about it.

For people like Jin Zhuoqun and You Qili, who would do anything to get ahead, clinging to fame and putting on a show had become second nature. They simply couldn’t understand why Wei Dong wouldn’t spend ten thousand to smooth his way up the ladder but would drop three hundred thousand on pandas!

And then go to such lengths to keep it secret?

They couldn’t understand it no matter how they tried, and inevitably had to ask.

Wei Dong could hardly reveal his business secrets: “Of course I have my reasons. You’ll understand in a couple of years.”

He let Jin Zhuoqun off first, exchanging phone numbers for future contact in Beijing and wishing him a safe journey.

When he dropped Dong Xueqing back at school, he finally explained to someone close: “I’m confident that if I use the pandas to advertise any appliance in Rongdu, I’ll make back the three hundred thousand in a single campaign—the rest will be pure profit. But we can’t take that money yet—it’s like leaving it in the panda pavilion for now. I’ll wait and see how things develop. For now, Rongdu is yours.”

The vocational student, realizing her happy days were ending, pouted for once. “When you go back, take good care of my sister, and be kind to Xiaodie too…”

Wei Dong grunted, “Do I need you to remind me? Once Lao You gets out, we’ll all move to Jiangzhou. I’m going back now to lay the groundwork, so when Lao You and the others come over, we’ll have a smooth start. You just keep an eye on the campus camera sales and Secretary Zhang for the next two months. I’ll try to leave tomorrow.”

Dong Xueqing suddenly felt tears welling up, reached to hug him, but the driver pushed her back: “I’m driving. You’ve had your fun these last few days; now it’s time to focus and get back to your studies and work.”

Still, the vocational student deftly dodged the hand, squeezed into the broad back of the tracksuit, and cried quietly.

Wei Dong found women troublesome, and after driving to the telecom college, urged her out: “We’re here. Take your camera. I put two hundred yuan for living expenses in your camera bag. Your sister says you should eat well—call her when you can.”

Feng Chu, obedient for once, stood at the school gate watching the big truck drive away, a hollow feeling welling up inside her, making her want to cry even more.

Only when a passing classmate asked, eyes brimming with tears, did she realize her white sweater was covered in threads pulled by the pandas. In a panic, she dashed back to the dorm to try and fix it—such a meaningful piece of clothing!

That night, Wei Dong received a call from Yu Songhai: “Was it you who donated three hundred thousand to the pandas at the zoo?!”

The reporter, denied a headline scoop, nearly spat blood in frustration.

And Wei Dong was one of his key clients—releasing such a bombshell without informing him was almost dereliction of duty.

How had he ended up with such a reckless kid? Sometimes he spoke with uncanny maturity, and at other times did things so impulsively there was no rhyme or reason.

Was he a genius, or a fool?

Someone like this would be nearly impossible to shape into a model citizen.