Chapter 82: A Vast Land, Endless Dust—Each Emperor, His Own Court

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By noon the next day, the restaurant had yet to open. At the factory, the custom was to operate food stalls only for dinner, since workers usually made do with the cafeteria at midday or brought meals from home. So aside from prepping ingredients and washing dishes, the young men and women from the countryside ventured out together to roam the city center for a bit.

But they dared not linger, carrying the natural awe rural folk hold for big cities—and here, country people were hardly welcome. The dazzling bustle felt overwhelming; compared to the factory district around Hongguang, where everything was familiar, this place was less comfortable. By afternoon, even his mother hesitated, unsure whether she wanted to busy herself in town; she cherished her business at the factory gate.

In the end, it was Old Rang who was summoned to oversee the place. The couple had begun to sense that their son was onto something big, and realized they couldn’t always hover around the kitchen.

Rang Weidong himself enjoyed a restful nap in the office, feeling neither the ceremonial urgency nor the pressure of opening day. Money flowed freely, and he was well-attended.

Qin Jianjun had not only handled the restaurant’s business and health certifications but also furnished the office with the best amenities from the guesthouse. The inner room was fitted with a standard single bed, a wardrobe, dressing table, and a heavy bedside safe. In the outer room, the popular style featured two facing desks, a three-seater faux-leather sofa—which folded out into a double bed.

It was a space for both business and private life, much like the temporary offices used by many shell companies these days.

But Qin Jianjun clearly knew Rang Weidong was different.

They now had two trucks, had bought an entire building worth hundreds of thousands, and possessed stacks of work permits and letters of introduction.

He even asked if Rang needed a personal attendant or servant, male or female, to take care of daily life.

Rang Weidong, finally enjoying some peace, quickly declined.

Near noon, feeling leisurely, he crossed the street for a bowl of medicinal porridge and some savory steamed buns, then drove to a nearby photo studio.

His moderately sized, sleek double cab would not be shooed away, but as Rang Weidong stepped out, Manager Zhang felt compelled to step outside and take another look at the brand-new imported pickup: “What a beauty!”

Less than half a year ago, he’d watched this young man arrive in a clunky Dongfeng truck. Now, he had clearly upgraded. Yet his attire was modest—a simple tracksuit, smiling calmly: “I have two small favors to ask…”

They walked in together, and Rang produced a packet of photos from his work permit: “I’d like another twenty or thirty ID photos made—very useful.”

Manager Zhang immediately arranged it at the counter.

Then Rang handed over a simple camera and a file for a photo exhibition: “It’s the People’s Camera, made by the Guangyi Factory near Jiangzhou. I’ve brought together two companies for a National Day photo exhibition. I’m keen to have some top-notch photographs as the centerpiece. I’ll give you one camera here for your staff to use. Any costs are mine, but if your photos gain fame, credit goes to you and the studio. How does that sound?”

He now had the exhibition agreement stamped by the Xishan Factory, with the original document on KaiXuan Film Company’s official letterhead, countersigned by the Sunshine Daily headquarters.

Manager Zhang, holding it with both hands, scanned it and immediately grasped its significance: “Such high standards?”

As a service provider designated for government departments, he certainly understood what Sunshine Daily represented. He likely knew even more about the prestige of KaiXuan Film—and the mysterious allure of that military-industrial factory.

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Rang Weidong spoke lightly: “This is the first domestically produced color film. Everyone wants to contribute something for National Day, but the key is pairing a domestic camera with domestic film, published in a national newspaper. The plan is to start publicity on May Day, accept submissions in June and July, display them in August and September, select winners in October, and hold the awards at year’s end. Some are busy getting leaders’ inscriptions, but I care most about having excellent photographs from our studio. If our studio and our photographers win fame and awards, why let outsiders take the glory?”

Manager Zhang immediately promised: “We’ll complete the task! Our studio will do our utmost!”

They had been photographing scholars, beauties, and dignitaries since the Republic era, and after decades of polishing their craft, their golden reputation in the wartime capital had faded somewhat in Jiangzhou, now subordinate to the provincial capital. They desperately needed such opportunities for exposure.

Rang Weidong put away the original agreement: “Practice with the camera first. Apparently, it has some unique quirks. I’ll bring KaiXuan film over soon; their release is expected in July or August, so qualifying works may be rushed. I want to ensure we have high-level entries no matter what.”

Such exhibitions required negatives for enlargement and printing, so there was no cheating with other films.

It was clearly a KaiXuan Film photography show; all other film submissions would be ineligible for prizes, at least for the major awards.

So the studio manager, knowing the business, realized these were nearly guaranteed entries, and delightedly tried to persuade Rang Weidong to sit for a portrait—his idea of reciprocation.

But Rang Weidong smiled and took his leave: “I’ll bring some important people for portraits later. If you have time, keep an eye out for any news on travel abroad—how to apply for passports and such. I’d be very grateful.”

Manager Zhang assured him: “I’ll remember. Please leave me a business card.”

Rang was reminded: “Alright, I’ll take care of that soon and bring it over. I’m staying at the barracks on Gourmet Street these days.”

Even as Rang drove off, Manager Zhang remained at the roadside, waving him off.

The entire studio was soon abuzz with excitement.

They mobilized all their technical staff to see what could be achieved with this affordable camera.

No one scoffed at the cheap device—they knew well how to handle official tasks.

Rang Weidong felt a small pride in his heart. He did not deny Jin Zhuoqun’s approach of targeting awards, but since there were many prizes, it made sense to recruit some allies.

Whistling, he drove to the wholesale market near the docks.

He had no interest in the official industrial trade center, but the increasingly vibrant wholesale markets nearby caught his eye.

Since buying the double cab, he’d been driving around here, enjoying the thrill and observing the area.

Its fuel consumption was only about ten liters—one-third that of a large truck—a bargain no matter how he drove.

He didn’t always stop, but watched for changes in storefronts and company clusters, preparing for when Old You and the others would need a foothold.

There was no business district or office buildings in those days—everything was scattered, everyone including the authorities was learning as they went.

Rang Weidong was perhaps only vaguely aware that the river was full of fish; whether he used a stick or a basin, he could fill his bowl, but finding the pitfalls and currents required local guidance.

So his own company and his assistance to Old You’s team ran on separate tracks, never conflicting.

He’d discussed this with Dong Xueying before.

Today, he parked by the textile market, placed an order for business cards at a printing shop, planned to buy new sheets and bedding for the store, and scouted for other useful supplies.

Opening a restaurant in the city center was surely different from running a spicy hotpot stall in the factory district.

With no prior experience, Rang Weidong decided to buy matching clothes for everyone to serve as uniforms—making it easier for customers to recognize them.

He efficiently bought a pile of goods, and as he struggled out, he spotted a few stalls piled high with children’s toys. An idea struck, and he squeezed over: “Give me a selection of these toys…”

As long as the new restaurant operated smoothly, he would soon return to Shangzhou. He’d traveled thousands of kilometers, and the gifts for the children were piling up to an absurd degree.

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He always bought whatever caught his eye.

He’d never purchased anything for a woman—only for children.

The figure hunched behind the stall wore a faded dark blue work coat, hair loosely tied, and a large mask covered most of her face, leaving only a pair of strikingly large eyes, raised brows and slightly furrowed, silent as she straightened up.

But the small frame sorting goods at the stall turned and leapt up, grabbing his leg and shouting, “Brother! Big brother, you’re back! Brother, big brother’s back!”

Loaded down with towels, sheets, and pillows, Rang Weidong barely noticed the ground.

Startled, he nearly staggered backwards—only the dense crowds behind him kept him upright: “What the hell, another setup…”

Then he saw the dark scar at the brow, unmistakably the mark from a kowtow—the dockside little thief from before.

Sure enough, as the shouting continued, a sweaty teenager squeezed out from behind the stall, immediately recognizing Rang Weidong. He hurriedly turned and grabbed the work coat next to him: “It’s big brother! Really big brother!”

The woman in the dark blue coat stepped forward, saying nothing, and dropped straight to her knees!

The hard impact of her kneecaps on the ground made Rang wince in sympathy.

With hands clasped, her voice was slightly hoarse and low: “Plum blossoms bloom in layers, brothers of the spiritual platform must not fall behind. Shen Cuiyue greets her benefactor.”

With that, she prostrated herself fully!

Was this a performance?

If his arms weren’t full, Rang Weidong would have turned and walked away.

The teenager and the little thief both knelt alongside her.

Even though only a small circle of people witnessed the odd scene in the bustling wholesale market, the crowd surged like waves, shoving Rang from behind so hard he nearly tumbled forward onto the trio.

He braced himself, strong enough to withstand it: “You’re all nuts!”

There was no way to leave.

Shen Cuiyue rose, steadying herself by the knees, turned briskly back, and ordered, “Help big brother carry these things inside.”

Without looking at the dazzling array of goods on the stall, she walked into the dim stairwell behind.

She leaned against the wall, removed her mask, and waited quietly.

The two boys eagerly latched onto Rang’s armful of goods, working diligently.

The younger one was quick-witted: “We’ve been doing business just as you said, and it’s even better than before. Third sister says it’s all yours!”

The taller one used brute force and, with practiced skill, managed to slip the stack of work permits and introduction letters into his hands: “Heh heh, third sister says never lose your craft—look, big brother!”

Rang Weidong suddenly felt hands at his waist, crotch, and thighs.

How many hands do you two have!