Chapter 101: Poor in the bustling city, no one cares; wealthy in the remote mountains, distant relatives come calling

The scent of ripened rice filled the air, and across the boundless fields, two or three figures passed by. Gazing at the heavy, golden rice ears stretched out flat, every farmer knew the harvest season was imminent.

The autumn sky was clear and refreshing, with clouds like cotton drifting lazily, lifting spirits and soothing the soul.

A few elderly women, carrying hoes, walked along the ridges between the fields, chatting intermittently about this year’s crop yield. As they passed by the gate of the Wang Guozhong household, they glanced over unconsciously.

“Oh, the little Zhong family has quite a few people gathered?”

“They’re well-off; naturally, more folks come around to visit.”

“Look, there’s Cheng Lin and Qiangzi too. Could something be going on?”

“Could be. Let’s go over and take a look.”

“Alright, just to hear what’s up. Afterwards, I still need to get back for lunch.”

Coming from the eastern fields, their path happened to lead past the Wang Guozhong residence. They didn’t intend to stare, but as they reached the yard, they overheard the crowd around Cheng Lin discussing auspicious dates and the like. Curiosity got the better of them, and they asked a few questions, gradually piecing together the story.

The two or three women chuckled quietly after hearing the news but said nothing further. On the way back, one remarked, “Has Bao Guojia turned his luck around?”

A short, plump woman muttered, “Never thought his family would have a day of prosperity.”

Though another remained silent, a twinge of envy stirred inside her— even the formerly poor and shabby Bao Guojia was now riding a wave of good fortune?

...

At the great-grandmother’s house, laughter and joy abounded.

“Heh heh.”

“So that’s how Shang Hai is?”

“They have more cars than our entire Minqiang Town, right?”

“That must be so developed.”

The great-grandfather resumed his card game, chiming in, “How can our humble Minqiang Town compare to Shang Hai? That’s an international metropolis; foreigners are everywhere. Here, you rarely even see someone from out of town, let alone foreigners.”

Everyone nodded in agreement, then the conversation turned back to the mother and son.

“Cheng Lin, you’ve given birth to a fine son,” Grandma Li said, leaning against the doorway.

The mother’s smile was uncontainable, but she replied, “Not really, he’s just quick-witted. There’s still much room for improvement.”

“When are you going to Shang Hai?”

“I’ll be bringing some vegetables from home. I hear everything is terribly expensive over there.”

“Cheng Lin, come visit more often. We live so close, and you’ve only been here two or three times this whole year.”

Several aunts chatted and joked with the mother, occasionally asking questions.

Witnessing this, Wang Qiang felt a surge of emotion. His mother had always been strong-willed, and though she hadn’t fulfilled her wishes in her past life, in this one she finally felt a sense of pride and relief.

In truth, he hadn’t expected so many people to be present. In the countryside, card games happen in different homes unpredictably; neighbors visit one another, sometimes today at your place, tomorrow at his. It was simply a fortunate coincidence.

After all, when repaying a debt, you can’t very well hire a fortune-teller to pick an auspicious day and hour to come, can you?

As for other matters that evening, the mother mentioned during dinner that Lu Wei seemed to be working for someone during the day and would likely be home only at night. Wang Qiang was set to return to Shang Hai the next afternoon and couldn’t afford to delay.

Among the group, Aunt Yu was especially warm and friendly—almost holding Cheng Lin’s hand as she spoke.

“Qiangzi, have you rented a place in Shang Hai?” Great-Grandma asked, noticing everyone chatting with Cheng Lin and turning to Wang Qiang. “Are you comfortable living and eating there?”

Hearing her concern, Wang Qiang promptly replied, “I’ve been staying with Boss Zhu, who runs the game center with me. This time I’m going to rent a place since my mother will be there too.”

Great-Grandma nodded, her eyes shining with affection for her grandson. She propped her hands on her knees and stood up, then hurried back inside.

Wang Qiang didn’t think much of it and quietly listened to his mother’s conversation.

Before long, Great-Grandma reappeared, holding two sets of what appeared to be bedding wrapped in oilskin bags. She handed them to his mother. “Keep these. Things are expensive in Shang Hai. Last time, when Xiaozhong and I visited Yunqiang, he bought us a good four-piece set for over a hundred yuan. Don’t waste your money; I have a few extra sets here, so take two.”

His mother, overwhelmed with gratitude, waved her hand. “No, no, I’ll just bring some old ones from home.”

“Just take them; no need to argue,” Great-Grandma scolded in her usual tone, but the sharpness was gone. She explained, “Xiaoqin got them from the Dashiqiao Textile Factory where she’s the director. They’re not worth much. In Shang Hai, a standard four-piece set sells for seventy or eighty yuan, but here, you can get very good ones for twenty or thirty—some even as low as fifteen. Xiaoqin got these at cost. Two sets are probably worth about as much as the soy milk powder you brought. As your elder, I can’t take advantage of you. Otherwise, if you bring back the soy milk powder, I won’t eat it.”

Xiaoqin was Wang Qiang’s cousin, the daughter of Great-Grandma, and currently the factory director at a medium-sized textile factory in the Dashiqiao Home Textile City.

At first, Wang Qiang hadn’t thought much when Great-Grandma offered the bedding sets, but when she mentioned that Shang Hai’s prices were seventy or eighty yuan while Dashiqiao’s were only fifteen to thirty, he felt a stir inside.

Few people understood the home textile industry, especially nowadays. The profits are far higher than they were before the rise of online shopping.

The main reason is information asymmetry.

Even as late as 2017, home textile businesses enjoyed over 70% profit margins, let alone now.

Moreover, the higher-end products yield even greater profits, while lower-end goods earn less.

Some might ask, with such high profits, why doesn’t everyone jump into the business?

It’s simple: high profit margins are one thing, but having a market is quite another.

It’s like in a few years, everyone knows the internet is lucrative in America, but how many actually succeed?

Wang Qiang’s attention had been caught. He thought perhaps he could explore the four-piece bedding market. As the saying goes, rely on the mountain to eat the mountain, rely on the water to eat the water. Living near China’s largest international home textile city, it would be remiss not to try to find some opportunity in home textiles.

After a moment’s thought, he realized now wasn’t the time to dwell on it. Looking at Great-Grandma, knowing her stubborn nature and that she always followed through on her words, he knew that if his mother refused, the soy milk powder might really end up being eaten by himself. So he urged, “Mom, you should accept it.”

“Thank you, thank you, Da Maimai,” his mother said with gratitude as she accepted the gifts.

Great-Grandma chuckled, “What’s there to thank me for? It’s not like it’s anything valuable.”

At that moment, Aunt Yu chimed in, “Cheng Lin, I’ve pickled some salted melon and vegetables at home. Do you want to take some with you?”

Grandma Fu said, “Her salted melon and vegetables are delicious. Last time I asked her for some, she wouldn’t give any. Cheng Lin, now that Xiufang is being generous, you have to take some to Shang Hai and try it.”

Aunt Yu proudly said, “That’s because my grandmother passed down the secret pickling recipe from the Qing Dynasty. She only makes two jars a year. I don’t even get to eat it myself.”

Grandma Fu scoffed, “And you’re willing to give it to Cheng Lin?”

Ignoring her, Aunt Yu turned to Wang Qiang’s mother. “I’ll prepare some for you later.”

His mother thanked her again, “Thank you, Aunt Yu.”

After chatting a while longer, mother and son stood to take their leave.

The others remained, watching them go and continuing their discussion.

...

After leaving, the two went to their grandparents’ house.

No matter how long they were away, they couldn’t neglect visiting the elders.

Grandfather was, as usual, lying on the reclining chair by the door soaking up the sun, while grandmother sat nearby mending old clothes.

“Grandpa, Grandma,” Wang Qiang greeted.

Grandfather quickly sat up. Though blind, he turned toward the voice. “Qiangzi, you’re back?”

“Come in, come in,” Grandma hurried to fetch a bench.

His mother was in high spirits, chatting with the two elders about family matters.

After a while, Wang Qiang interjected, “Why don’t you wear the clothes I bought you?”

“Good clothes are for visiting relatives,” Grandma rolled her eyes. “You’re a bit full of yourself now that you’re making some money, huh? We have clothes to wear, especially your grandfather—he never leaves the house. Why would he need new clothes? You, you, you waste money.”

Due to complications from diabetes, Grandfather needed support to walk. Not to mention visiting relatives, even walking from the bedroom to the living room required him to lean on his cane and for Grandma to steady him. Saying he never left the house was no exaggeration.

Grandfather bristled indignantly, “So what if my grandson bought me clothes? How is that wasting money? Hmph! When you were boasting to others about how filial your second grandson was, why didn’t you say he was wasting money? Everyone in and out of the village is tired of your bragging all day long.”

Wang Qiang: “...”

The old couple began bickering again.

In the end, it was his mother who calmed them down. Before parting, Wang Qiang slipped two hundred yuan to the elders so they could buy more food at home.

...

Back at his own house, pulling out the key to open the door, Wang Qiang’s mind was still on the home textile business.

If it weren’t for Great-Grandma’s reminder, he might have forgotten that Haitong had an international home textile city—a potentially valuable lead.

He wasn’t yet sure if he could make money in home textiles, mainly due to sales channels.

Opening a few small shops selling bedding sets in Shang Hai could be done, but it wouldn’t bring in big money. Since tasting success in electronics, Wang Qiang was no longer content with small profits.

So he wasn’t in a rush. He planned to research the home textile market first. If it was promising and he could find good distribution channels, he wouldn’t mind entering the business.

As he was lost in thought, voices suddenly came from outside.

“Qiangzi is making money in Shang Hai.”

“Really?”

“That’s no lie; he’s even taking Cheng Lin with him.”

“What about school? Isn’t he going to high school?”

“Hah, now that he’s rich, can’t he just hire a private tutor?”

Then Aunt Yu’s voice sounded at the doorstep.

“Cheng Lin, I’ve brought some salted melon and vegetables for you, plus five or six salted duck eggs.”

Wang Qiang looked outside to see four or five aunts approaching.

His mother, having just come out of the room, immediately appeared, radiant with a smile. “Oh, so many of you! Come on in and have a seat.”

Aunt Yu handed over two red plastic bags.

His mother accepted them and fetched several stools for everyone. They sat by the door and began chatting.

Wang Qiang, meanwhile, found himself idle. Neighbors rarely visited his home before, but today, unusually, four or five had come. Judging by the tone of their conversation, they weren’t leaving anytime soon. This had never happened before.

As the old saying goes, when poor, even in a bustling market, no one cares; when rich, even in a remote mountain, distant relatives show up. Perhaps this scene was exactly what it meant.