Chapter 011: The Art of Making Wealth

The sun was already high, around nine in the morning, and the heat was beginning to intensify. The air felt stuffy, and two sparrows chirped energetically on a nearby utility pole, utterly unafraid of people. The cicadas, overwhelmed by the heat, called out incessantly.

By this time, the market had thinned out; only the occasional vendor's shout could be heard, the bustle had clearly faded. More than three hours of continuous work had passed.

The seventy or eighty pounds of fish were nearly all sold. People are strange—when Wang Qiang hadn’t made a single sale, no one asked about the price even if they saw him, but once a crowd gathered, others rushed over, perhaps succumbing to herd mentality.

Whatever the reason, Wang Qiang was exhausted. He glanced at the wooden basin, now holding only a large yellow carp and four or five small crucian carp. Feeling the heavy bulge in his pocket, he smiled through his fatigue. The fish were nearly gone, and he must have made a good profit, though it wasn’t convenient to count the money in front of everyone.

“Wang, you did well,” Uncle Zhai remarked unexpectedly.

Wang Qiang, unconcerned about appearances, sat on the ground, wiped sweat from his brow, and beamed, “Not bad, I suppose.”

Uncle Zhai gestured toward the half-unsold pile of cabbages and said sourly, “You’ve nearly sold out your fish, but my cabbages haven’t moved much.”

“Uncle Zhai, you’ve sold half and say they haven’t moved? Looks like tomorrow you’ll need to bring a cart.” Wang Qiang teased.

In truth, two or three hundred pounds of cabbage had already been sold, which wasn’t insignificant for a rural market. Though cabbage was in season, demand in the countryside wasn’t high—only town folks or those wanting freshness spent money on it. Cabbage didn’t bring much profit; two or three hundred pounds might only earn fifteen or sixteen yuan, and that was thanks to the season. Naturally, Uncle Zhai felt a bit envious of Wang Qiang, and seeing business dwindling, he changed the subject: “Wang, you said you had a unique trick—I didn’t believe you, but you really pulled it off. You’re clever, huh?”

Wang Qiang chuckled, “I just thought from the consumer’s perspective.”

“Consumer what?” Uncle Zhai, a farmer, didn’t understand the trendy term, but instead asked humbly, “If you’re so clever, how would you sell cabbage to move more of it?”

Wang Qiang glanced at him and replied cheekily, “Looking for advice?”

Older folks cared little for pride. Uncle Zhai nodded eagerly, his eyes hopeful.

Wang Qiang joked, “I’ll give you a tip, but you have to buy the four or five crucian carp left in my basin.”

“I see now, you’re as shrewd as a monkey,” Uncle Zhai said, though he took him seriously, “Fine, weigh them. But let’s agree in advance—I don’t want the yellow carp, it’s too expensive.”

“No, no,” Wang Qiang quickly waved his hand. “I’m just kidding. I’ll tell you, and you can try it if you think it’s good—if not, just forget it. I can’t guarantee it’ll work.”

“Alright, alright,” Uncle Zhai grinned.

Had Uncle Zhai not helped him earlier, stirring up the crowd so the woman in the blue shirt would buy the black fish, Wang Qiang wouldn’t have offered advice. He wasn’t a saint, and had no reason to care how others sold their vegetables. But he was someone who remembered favors; if others helped him, he repaid them.

How to boost cabbage sales?

If it were the future, he wouldn’t have many solutions. But in 1994, with a seller’s market, the options were plentiful.

He surveyed the area and saw four or five other vendors chatting amongst themselves. Wang Qiang picked up a cabbage, pointed at it, and said, “Look, your cabbage has yellow leaves, the stem is too long, and the dirt isn’t washed off. If it were me, I’d wash the cabbages thoroughly, trim the old stems, and tear off the yellow leaves.”

Uncle Zhai stared, furrowing his brow, “Wouldn’t that reduce the weight?”

Small-minded, always counting every ounce.

“That’s my advice, use it or not as you wish.” Wang Qiang had provided the idea, but had no obligation to enforce it.

Uncle Zhai fell silent, head down, weighing gain and loss.

Already tired, Wang Qiang decided to relax. The large yellow carp wasn’t sold yet, so he planned to wait.

As luck would have it, a Santana sedan cruised slowly by. Wang Qiang glanced at it, then fixed his gaze—is that him? Lu Dahai?

Such a big boss, why did he come to buy groceries at this time every few days?

He couldn’t figure it out, but his mind was quick.

Sure enough, two people stepped out of the car: Lu Dahai, in his thirties, and a stylish young woman with wavy hair, looking about twenty-one or twenty-two.

Uncle Zhai seemed to know Lu Dahai, and whispered, “Look, money really is good. Lu Dahai’s almost forty, and he married a college graduate, a young lady.”

So this was Lu Dahai’s wife. Wang Qiang understood, ignoring Uncle Zhai’s envy. He stood and warmly greeted Lu Dahai, “Boss Lu, here for groceries?”

Seeing Wang Qiang knew Lu Dahai, Uncle Zhai laughed awkwardly, a bit embarrassed for speaking behind his back.

Lu Dahai, holding the woman’s hand, heard the greeting and looked over, “Oh, it’s you.” He stepped forward, glanced at the basin, and said cheerfully, “What, you’re selling fish instead of crayfish today?”

The woman looked proud and impatient.

“Earning a bit to help with tuition,” Wang Qiang replied, then added a compliment, “This must be your wife? She looks just like the movie star Rosamund Kwan—beautiful. Boss Lu is lucky to have her.”

The woman’s stern expression melted, her eyes curved like crescent moons as she laughed and nudged Lu Dahai, “Did you hear that? Marrying me is your good fortune.”

Lu Dahai laughed heartily and pointed at Wang Qiang, saying to his wife, “Don’t believe this kid, he’s full of tricks. By the way, the factory switched to metal card clothing because of his idea.” After returning, he’d investigated the metal card clothing industry and found it had great potential, just as Wang Qiang had said.

So yesterday, as soon as he arrived at the company, Lu Dahai ordered that mold production continue, but metal card clothing should also be pursued, setting aside a workshop to test it.

The woman gave an “Ah,” her eyes flashing as she looked at Wang Qiang, but said nothing more.

Wang Qiang grinned, “Boss Lu, you’re unfair to call my advice trickery. Wasn’t it solid?”

“No, no,” Lu Dahai seemed in high spirits and chatted casually, then suddenly asked, “No turtles today? I was hoping you’d bring me a couple more.”

“Turtles aren’t easy to catch,” Wang Qiang shrugged, then pointed at the yellow carp, “But I did get something else good—this huge yellow carp isn’t common, right?”

Lu Dahai had already noticed it, but hadn’t mentioned it. Now, seeing Wang Qiang bring it up, he laughed, “I knew you had an ulterior motive for greeting me. If there’s no turtle, a big yellow carp will do. How much?”

The woman murmured, “Such a big fish is a pity to give away.”

Lu Dahai ignored her and said to Wang Qiang, “Name your price.”

Wang Qiang didn’t overcharge him, holding up four fingers, “Forty yuan. I’ll clean it for you.”

Ordinary yellow carp wasn’t so expensive, but this one weighed over ten pounds and was wild. In truth, forty yuan was far from pricey—if sold in the city, it could easily fetch sixty or seventy.

“No need to clean it, just alive is best—fresh. My friend in Zhang Town… he’ll appreciate such a large wild yellow carp.” Lu Dahai pulled out a fifty-yuan bill and handed it over, “No need for change.”

Wang Qiang accepted the money, took out a ten-yuan bill from his pocket, and said seriously, “I know you’re thanking me for the advice, but business is business. I said forty, so I’ll take forty.”

Uncle Zhai kept giving Wang Qiang signals, as if the unaccepted ten yuan belonged to him, “Lu Dahai’s loaded. Why not take the free money?”

“You won’t take extra?” Lu Dahai looked at Wang Qiang with an uncharacteristically serious expression, saying, “You’ll go far. Fine, I’ll keep the ten.”

No need to clean the fish, Wang Qiang packed it in a plastic bag and handed it over. It wasn’t that he didn’t want more money—truthfully, he wanted to earn as much as possible. But principles mattered. He wouldn’t accept charity; to do so would create an obligation he couldn’t repay.

Lu Dahai took the fish and turned to enter the market, but after two steps, he looked back, “If you catch any more turtles, remember to bring them to the Metalworking Machinery Factory.”

Wang Qiang paused, then replied, “Alright, I’ll deliver them when I get some.”

Once Lu Dahai left, Uncle Zhai immediately cried out, as if the ten yuan was his, “Oh Wang, ten yuan! You just let it go? If it were me, I’d take it without a second thought.”

Wang Qiang smiled and shook his head gently. How could a sparrow understand the ambitions of a swan? To incur a favor for paltry gain wasn’t worth it.

By around ten, the few remaining crucian carp still hadn’t sold.

But Wang Qiang was content. His pockets bulged with coins and bills—all profit.

He packed up, bought a pound of meat and a couple sticks of gluten at the market, ready to head home. At the last moment, Uncle Zhai gifted him a cabbage, and no matter how Wang Qiang tried to refuse, he couldn’t. Uncle Zhai insisted it was a reward for the advice.

So be it.

He poured out the dirty water, stacked the two basins, tossed the remaining crucian carp into the bucket, and pushed his cart home.

Though he was eager to know how much he’d earned, it wasn’t wise to count money outside—someone might get greedy and cause trouble. The newspapers made the security situation sound much better than it really was.

Still, Wang Qiang was exhilarated—not because his pockets were full, but because he’d proven his plan to earn money by fishing worked, especially coupled with modern business concepts. Today, he’d sold all seventy or eighty pounds of fish.

The art of making a living promised a brighter tomorrow.

With his cart much lighter, Wang Qiang strode swiftly, eager to get home and count his day’s earnings.