Chapter 3: Zhang Lei's Sneer

First thing the next morning, Wang Jianguo got out of bed.

He squatted at the door and smoked a cigarette, ground the butt out, turned, and went into the house.

"Mum, I'm going out."

Liu Guifang was busy at the stove and didn't lift her head. "Eat something first."

"I've eaten."

He hadn't. He had exactly two yuan thirty left in his pocket, and couldn't even bear to buy a bun.

Out of the courtyard gate, he didn't head for the factory. He turned into the old street.

On the old street there was a shoe-repair stall. The stall keeper was a middle-aged man surnamed Sun, who had worked in the same unit as Wang Jianguo's father in the old days.

"Jianguo?" Master Sun looked up at him. "What are you here for?"

"Uncle Sun, I want to borrow some money from you." Wang Jianguo said it straight.

The awl in Master Sun's hand paused. "How much?"

"Two hundred and eighty."

"That much?"

"I'll pay it back tomorrow."

Master Sun looked at him, then at the empty road behind him. "What's it for?"

"To take in a batch of secondhand goods. Sell them on, earn the difference."

Master Sun laughed. "You? Trading in secondhand goods?"

"Why not?"

"Nothing." Master Sun fished a cloth bundle out of his apron pocket, opened it, and counted. "This is all I've got. Take it."

Wang Jianguo took it and counted. Two handfuls of small notes and change — altogether a little over three hundred.

"Thanks, Uncle Sun. Back tomorrow."

"All right."

Wang Jianguo turned to go. Master Sun called him back. "Jianguo — that batch of goods... is it worth it?"

"Worth it."

"As long as you know what you're doing."

Wang Jianguo nodded and left.

He hadn't gone far from the old street when he heard someone call him from behind.

"Well, well. If it isn't Wang Jianguo."

Wang Jianguo turned around.

It was Zhang Lei, from the factory security section, two years older than him — back in middle school he'd bullied him often.

"Zhang Lei." Wang Jianguo nodded.

"Where have you been off to?" Zhang Lei stood with both hands in his pockets, eyeing him sidelong. "Heard you're trading secondhand goods?"

"Mm."

"You?" Zhang Lei laughed. "What can you trade your way to?"

"A bit of pocket money."

"A bit of pocket money." Zhang Lei repeated it like he'd heard a joke. "You brat — since your father died, your household's just you and Liu Guifang, and that stepsister of yours. Trading old goods — can it even feed you?"

Wang Jianguo said nothing.

Zhang Lei took a step closer. "Heard you were talking goods with Master Li at the factory gate yesterday? Three hundred yuan's worth. You can bring that out?"

"I can."

"You can?" Zhang Lei looked him up and down. "How much money can there be in your pockets?"

Wang Jianguo put his hand in his pocket and squeezed the two hundred and eighty. He said nothing.

Zhang Lei saw it and laughed. "What did I tell you? You can't even eat your fill, and you're trading secondhand goods?"

"Zhang Lei," Wang Jianguo raised his head, "what's it to you what I do?"

"What's it to me?" Zhang Lei spread his hands. "You hang around this factory, I'm factory security — don't I have to keep an eye on things?"

"Keep an eye on what?"

"On you, so you don't get up to crooked, wicked tricks." Zhang Lei patted Wang Jianguo on the shoulder. "Honestly — trading old goods, how much can you earn? Better to find a proper job."

"What I do is none of your business." Wang Jianguo turned to leave.

"Hey," Zhang Lei called again, "if you're short of capital, you can come to me."

Wang Jianguo stopped.

"To you?"

"That's right. Me." Zhang Lei pointed at himself. "I've been at this factory a few years. I've got a few connections. If you've got big business, I can help you link up."

"What big business?"

"For instance," Zhang Lei lowered his voice, "the factory's scrap disposal, clearing out the warehouses — those are fat, oily jobs. If you're interested, I can take you in as a partner."

Wang Jianguo looked at him. "Does partnership cost a buy-in?"

"Of course." Zhang Lei held up one finger. "One thousand."

Wang Jianguo smiled a little. "I've got two hundred and eighty in my pocket."

Zhang Lei's face fell at once. "Two hundred and eighty? Are you joking?"

"I'm not joking," Wang Jianguo said. "Zhang Lei, your big business — I can't afford to play."

"Can't afford to play?" Zhang Lei's voice went up. "If you can't afford it, then what do you think you can play at? Three hundred yuan of old desks and chairs — you're fit for that?"

Wang Jianguo turned and walked away, and didn't look back.

Zhang Lei stood where he was, watching his back recede, and muttered, "Puts on airs, the pauper."

At the factory, sure enough, Master Li was still waiting at the warehouse door.

"Here?"

"Here." Wang Jianguo handed the cloth bundle over. "The money's enough."

Master Li took it, counted, and nodded. "Good. Come in and look at the goods with me."

The warehouse was stacked full of old desks and chairs. Tin cabinets leaned in the corner, and the four motors, wrapped in oilcloth, sat at the very back.

Wang Jianguo crouched down, pulled the oilcloth aside, and looked.

The motor casings had a layer of rust, but opening one up, the copper coils inside were fairly intact, and the silicon steel sheets hadn't rusted through.

"Do these motors work?" Wang Jianguo asked.

"Don't know. The factory says they're scrap," Master Li said. "If you think they can be used, haul them away."

Wang Jianguo stood up and looked at the desks and chairs.

"The desks and chairs are hardwood?"

"Beech. Old furniture."

"Good. I'll take them."

Master Li took a notebook from his pocket and wrote out a slip. "Thirty sets of desks and chairs, fifteen tin cabinets, four motors. Three hundred yuan. Hauling them is on you — find your own transport."

"Fine."

Wang Jianguo signed, took the stack of small bills from his pocket, and handed it over.

Master Li counted the money, took it, and signed the back of the slip.

"The goods are inside. Find transport and haul them out."

"Good."

Wang Jianguo turned to go, but Master Li called him back. "Wait."

"What is it?"

"This batch of goods," Master Li lowered his voice, "the factory leaders nodded to sell it, but it didn't go through the formal procedures. When you haul it away, don't make a noise about it."

"I know."

"And," Master Li glanced at the warehouse door, "Zhang Lei's standing guard at the gate."

Wang Jianguo blinked.

"He spoke to you last time you came?"

"Mm."

"If he asks," Master Li said, "say it's the factory clearing stock, a normal disposal. Don't say you bought it privately."

"I understand."

Wang Jianguo nodded and turned towards the warehouse door.

Sure enough, Zhang Lei was standing at the gate, hands on his hips.

"Well," Zhang Lei saw him and laughed, "you scraped the money together?"

"Mm."

"Three hundred yuan." Zhang Lei looked him up and down. "Where did you get it?"

"Borrowed it."

"Borrowed it?" Zhang Lei laughed. "Borrowed from who?"

"From a friend."

"A friend?" Zhang Lei stepped closer. "What friend could lend you three hundred?"

Wang Jianguo said nothing and walked past him.

Zhang Lei reached out and blocked him. "I haven't finished asking."

"What do you want to ask?" Wang Jianguo stopped.

"About this batch of goods." Zhang Lei pointed at the warehouse. "Did it go through proper procedures?"

"Master Li said it's the factory clearing stock. A normal disposal."

"A normal disposal?" Zhang Lei laughed. "Three hundred yuan's worth — you call that normal?"

"How do you know it's three hundred?"

"You haggled at the gate yesterday. I saw it." Zhang Lei put his hands on his hips. "I'm telling you, Wang Jianguo, this business of yours — isn't it a bit too unreliable?"

Wang Jianguo looked at him. "Zhang Lei, what's it to you what I do?"

"What's it to me?" Zhang Lei laughed. "You hauling goods at this factory, me being factory security — don't I have to keep an eye on things?"

"Keep an eye on what?"

"On you, so you don't get up to crooked, wicked tricks." Zhang Lei patted Wang Jianguo's shoulder. "Honestly — trading old goods, how much can you earn? Better to find a proper job."

Wang Jianguo said nothing. He slipped sideways around him.

Zhang Lei reached out and stopped him once more. "Hey — where's your transport?"

"Haven't found any yet."

"Then you can't haul the goods away." Zhang Lei pointed at the things in the warehouse. "You can't exactly carry them out on your back."

Wang Jianguo turned around and looked at him. "You'll find me a vehicle?"

"Me?" Zhang Lei laughed. "Me, find you a vehicle? How am I supposed to help with that?"

"Will you help or not?"

Zhang Lei thought it over, then laughed. "I will."

"How?"

"I know a man who drives a tractor," Zhang Lei said. "You pay twenty yuan, I'll have him come and haul it."

Wang Jianguo looked at him and said nothing.

"Twenty yuan." Zhang Lei held up one finger. "Cheap."

"Fine."

"All right, then." Zhang Lei turned to go. "You wait here. I'll fetch him."

Wang Jianguo stood at the warehouse door, watching Zhang Lei's back disappear around the corner.

In the warehouse, those old desks and chairs and tin cabinets sat quietly piled, waiting to be hauled away.

The sound of a tractor came from far off, chugging louder and louder.

Wang Jianguo went forward. The tractor driver was a dark, thin middle-aged man. He jumped down and took a look at Wang Jianguo.

"You're the one Zhang Lei sent?"

"Yes."

"Where's the goods?"

"In the warehouse."

"Let's go."

Wang Jianguo followed the tractor driver into the warehouse and began carrying things out.

Those old desks and chairs were heavy, and the tin cabinets heavier still. Wang Jianguo carried alone, sweating through his hair.

The tractor driver didn't help either. He leaned against the tractor's nose and smoked.

After half an hour of carrying, Wang Jianguo had stacked the desks, chairs, and tin cabinets onto the tractor.

The four motors were heavier yet. It took all his strength to heave them up onto the back bed.

"That's it." Wang Jianguo straightened his back and wiped his sweat. "Let's go."

"Where to?" the tractor driver asked.

"Where I live."

"Far?"

"Not far."

The tractor driver started the engine, and the tractor chugged away.

Wang Jianguo stood where he was, watching the tractor disappear around the street corner.

He had only twenty yuan left in his pocket.

By the time he got back to the courtyard, the sky was nearly dark.

Liu Guifang was waiting at the gate. Seeing him, her eyes lit up. "You got the goods hauled in?"

"I did."

"Where are they?"

"In the yard."

Liu Guifang walked into the courtyard, saw the old desks, chairs, and tin cabinets, and froze for a moment.

"This..."

"Mum, don't ask." Wang Jianguo closed the gate. "Leave them here for now. I'll deal with them tomorrow."

"Deal with them?" Liu Guifang looked at him. "What do you plan to do?"

"Sell them."

"Sell them?" Liu Guifang looked at him. "These things — how much can they sell for?"

"They can sell." Wang Jianguo said, "The desks and chairs are hardwood. The tin cabinets can be refitted as tool chests. And the motors can be stripped and the copper sold."

Liu Guifang looked at him and said nothing.

Wang Jianguo turned into the house, took the twenty yuan from his pocket, and put it on the table.

"Mum, take this twenty yuan for now."

Liu Guifang didn't move.

"Mum," Wang Jianguo looked at her, "tomorrow I'm going to set up a stall at the market and sell these things off."

"Set up a stall?" Liu Guifang finally spoke. "How do you plan to do that?"

"Find a spot, set up a stall, sell. That's all."

"Fine." Liu Guifang nodded. "You do yours. I won't interfere."

Wang Jianguo nodded, turned, and left the house.

Liu Guifang stood before the table, looking at the twenty yuan, and sighed.

First thing the next morning, Wang Jianguo got out of bed.

He carried the old desks and chairs into the yard and set them out neat and tidy. The tin cabinets leaned against the wall, the motors sat in the corner.

He walked out of the courtyard gate, went to the street corner, bought a newspaper, spread it on a desk, and used it as a sign.

"Old furniture, old appliances, selling cheap."

The writing was crooked and shaky, but legible.

Wang Jianguo stood the newspaper up, stood beside the stall, and waited for customers.

People came and went. Nobody stopped.

Wang Jianguo grew a little anxious. He took out a cigarette and smoked it.

"Hey," someone called to him, "is this that secondhand stall?"

Wang Jianguo raised his head. It was a man in his thirties, wearing a grey jacket, a cloth bag in his hand.

"It is."

"How much for these desks and chairs?"

"Five yuan a set."

"Five yuan?" The man looked the desks and chairs over. "The wood looks all right, but five is too dear."

"Three yuan."

"Three yuan a set — I'll take them all."

Wang Jianguo blinked. "All of them?"

"That's right. Thirty sets. I want them all."

"Fine."

The man took money out of his cloth bag and counted it — a hundred yuan — and set it on the desk.

Wang Jianguo took the money and counted it. Correct.

"Do you want these too?" The man looked at the tin cabinets and motors.

"The tin cabinets are a yuan apiece. The motors, a hundred apiece."

"I'll take the tin cabinets. Not the motors."

Wang Jianguo nodded and handed the tin cabinets over.

The man carried the tin cabinets away.

Wang Jianguo stood beside the stall, looking at the desks, chairs, and motors that remained, and sighed.

Only a hundred yuan sold. Still far from breaking even.

Just then, someone came over from the side.

It was a middle-aged woman in a floral jacket, a vegetable basket in her hand.

"How are these desks and chairs sold?"

"Five yuan a set."

"Too dear." The woman shook her head and left.

A few more people came. All of them said too dear.

Wang Jianguo grew anxious and changed the words on the newspaper.

"Old furniture, old appliances, selling cheap. Three yuan a set."

Still nobody wanted them.

He looked at the sky. The sun was already overhead.

On the stall sat twenty-some sets of desks and chairs, and the four motors, waiting quietly.

Wang Jianguo sighed and lit a cigarette.

He was smoking when he heard someone speak behind him.

"Whose pitch is this?"

Wang Jianguo turned around. It was a man in his forties, wearing blue work clothes, holding a cigarette.

"Mine."

"Yours?" The man looked around. "This ground's public. You've taken it all by yourself?"

"First come, first served."

"First come, first served?" The man laughed. "That's a new one."

Wang Jianguo looked at him. "Brother, do you want to set things out too?"

"I want to sell vegetables," the man said. "I come here every day to sell vegetables. Been doing it three years."

"Three years?" Wang Jianguo blinked. "Then why didn't I see you yesterday?"

"I didn't come yesterday." The man pointed at the stall. "Today I come, and find you've taken it."

"Brother," Wang Jianguo stubbed out his cigarette, "how about this: you do yours, I do mine. We each take one side. All right?"

The man looked at him. "Each take one side? The place is only this big. You've set out all yours — where do I put mine?"

Wang Jianguo looked around. The place truly wasn't large.

"Then how about this," Wang Jianguo said, "I set up today, first. You come tomorrow. All right?"

"Tomorrow?" The man laughed. "You set up one day, I set up one day — and then it's my turn?"

"Fine."

"Then it's settled." The man nodded. "I'll go first today. Tomorrow I'll come again."

The man left, carrying his vegetable basket.

Wang Jianguo let out a breath and was about to go on with his stall when a voice came from behind again.

"Hey — you're setting up a stall here?"

Wang Jianguo turned around. It was a man in his fifties, wearing a black tunic suit, a briefcase in his hand.

"I am."

"You can't set up a stall here." The man said, "This is the market administration office's territory. To set up a stall you have to go inside the market."

Wang Jianguo looked at him. "Inside the market?"

"That's right. Inside the market." The man pointed into the distance. "If you want a stall, go inside the market and find a pitch, and pay the management fee."

"How much is the management fee?"

"Five yuan a day."

Wang Jianguo looked at him. "Five yuan a day?"

"Five yuan a day. A hundred and fifty a month."

Wang Jianguo sighed and rolled up the newspaper.

"Then I'll go inside the market."

"Fine." The man nodded. "Go early. Late, and there'll be no spot."

The man walked off, briefcase in hand.

Wang Jianguo stood where he was and looked around.

The market was across the street. Ten minutes' walk.

He looked at the desks, chairs, and motors on his stall, and sighed.

To move the desks and chairs into the market, he'd have to hire hands or find a vehicle.

He had only a hundred yuan left in his pocket.

He was thinking when a voice came from behind again.

"Hey — you're setting up a stall here?"

Wang Jianguo turned around. It was a young man in his thirties, wearing a floral shirt, a plastic bag in his hand.

"I am."

"You can't set up a stall here." The young man said, "This is the market administration office's territory. To set up a stall you have to go inside the market."

Wang Jianguo looked at him. "Are you here to police me too?"

"I'm not here to police you." The young man laughed. "I'm here to set up a stall."

"Set up a stall?"

"That's right, set up a stall." The young man pointed at his plastic bag. "I sell socks. Want some?"

Wang Jianguo looked at him and said nothing.

The young man opened the plastic bag. Inside was a pile of brightly coloured socks.

"Socks, a yuan a pair. Want some?"

"No."

"No?" The young man laughed. "You won't buy socks — then what are you setting out here?"