Chapter 72: Opening a Game Parlor?
Night.
Lying in bed, Wang Qiang was still pondering how to sell the gaming consoles.
Should he set up a stall near elementary or middle schools?
But would those students even have the means to buy them?
Probably not. The cost price for a Famicom was fifty yuan per unit, but he couldn’t possibly sell it for just fifty, could he?
Wang Qiang had always drawn a line in his heart: since he sourced them from the south at fifty yuan apiece, he’d at least have to double that twice—no less than one hundred and fifty yuan. Yet, most elementary and middle school students simply couldn’t afford that much.
As for their parents, they were even less likely to fork over money for a gaming console that would ‘harm’ their children.
For a moment, he was at a loss, unable to figure a way out. He couldn’t just walk into a shopping mall and ask the owners if they wanted to buy, as he’d done with the jeans last time. Not only would he not make much that way, but unlike Boss Yao, these shopkeepers weren’t acquaintances of Boss Zhu, so even if he wanted to sell them off at a bargain, he might not manage it.
Pure moonlight poured in like mercury through the glass window, flooding the floor and illuminating Wang Qiang, who lay in bed with wide-open eyes. Listening to the chirping of crickets drifting from outside, he let out a heavy sigh. “Ah.”
No solution in sight.
Restless and troubled, he couldn’t sleep.
...
The next morning.
Knock, knock, knock.
The landlady’s voice came from outside, “Wang Qiang, get up for breakfast.”
Wang Qiang, who’d only fallen asleep late in the night, was startled awake. He struggled to open his eyes and replied, “I’m up, I’m up.”
“Hurry up, I’ve stir-fried bamboo shoots.”
Her footsteps faded away.
Still groggy from lack of sleep, Wang Qiang dragged himself out of bed. Even though he hadn’t found a good solution yet, he had to start by selling his portable music players. Tomorrow, there’d be a city inspection, so he couldn’t set up his stall at the North Square. With just one day left, he had to sell as much as he could.
He brushed his teeth, washed his face, and even shampooed his hair for a bit of refreshment.
Downstairs.
Boss Zhu was brushing his teeth by the balcony. Turning around, he was startled to see Wang Qiang’s bloodshot eyes and mumbled, “Didn’t sleep well?”
Wang Qiang forced a smile. “It was a bit hot—didn’t fall asleep until late.”
The landlady was serving porridge; she looked up and said, “Why didn’t you say so? Next time, I’ll have Lao Zhu go to his friend who repairs appliances—what’s his name, Satellite—to get a second-hand electric fan.”
“Sun Satellite,” Boss Zhu added.
“No need, no need. It’s cool enough with the window open,” Wang Qiang quickly replied, not wanting to trouble others on his account.
...
Soon, the porridge was on the table.
The three of them began eating. The landlady asked with concern, “Wang Qiang, are you planning to stay in Shanghai long-term or short-term? If it’s long-term, I’ll get you a second-hand television for your room—about a hundred yuan at most. That way you won’t be bored at night.”
Boss Zhu, bare-chested, chimed in, “No need for a hundred! With my connection to Lao Sun, a simple word and you can get an old TV for sixty or seventy yuan.”
“Just short-term,” Wang Qiang waved his hand, “Don’t bother. I’ll be heading back to Haitong in a couple of days.”
“Oh.” The landlady sounded disappointed, regretful. “I’d hoped my son could spend more time with you and broaden his horizons, but I guess that won’t happen now.”
Wang Qiang just smiled and silently lifted his bowl of porridge.
...
After breakfast.
He knew he couldn’t sell the consoles at North Square, so he didn’t bring them, only slinging thirty or forty portable players over his shoulder as he headed out.
Arriving at the entrance to North Square, the old man hadn’t arrived yet.
Wang Qiang leisurely set up his stall, put on some music.
He’d only just sat down for a few minutes when the middle-aged man from the City Appearance Bureau, whom he’d met yesterday, came by again to remind him not to set up his stall here tomorrow.
Wang Qiang smiled apologetically, pulling out a cigarette he’d bought in Shen Town but hadn’t given away yet, offering a Hongta Mountain.
Before long, his first customer arrived.
“I’ll take a portable player.”
“Need any cassettes? I have Four Heavenly Kings, Little Tigers, Jeff Chang.”
“Do you have Yang Yuying?”
“Let me check... Yes, just one tape. You’re in luck.”
Business was decent that morning.
By around ten o’clock, he’d already sold seven or eight players.
Suddenly, Wang Qiang saw the old man selling tea eggs pedaling his little tricycle from a distance, a young boy of eight or nine sitting in the back.
Even before they got close, he could hear the old man scolding.
“Who told you to go to the arcade, huh?”
“Grandpa, I won’t go next time, I promise.”
“You said that last time, too. And what happened?” The old man had already stopped his tricycle next to Wang Qiang, still lecturing his grandson, “I give you pocket money on the sly, and you spend it all at the arcade? Do you know what your mother said about me? She says I spoil you. You kid, sigh.”
The boy said nothing, head bowed.
Seeing the old man park his tricycle, Wang Qiang smiled and spoke up for the sturdy little boy, “Sir, it’s natural for kids to want to play. If you forbid them, they’ll just sneak off to play anyway. It might be better to let him play for a set time each day, as long as he finishes his homework.”
The boy quickly nodded, “Yes, yes, exactly.”
“Exactly my foot!” The old man’s eyes bulged as he shooed his grandson off the tricycle and began unloading the coal stove.
Wang Qiang lent a hand.
Soon, the old man had lit the coal fire and started boiling tea eggs. The boy sat quietly to the side, not saying a word, but his eyes kept drifting toward the music playing from the portable player.
“Sir, you’re a bit late today,” Wang Qiang said.
The old man pointed at his grandson in exasperation, “It’s all because of him. He went to the arcade early this morning, and I had to search for him. I don’t get it,” he vented to Wang Qiang, “What’s so fun about those consoles? When I went in to look for him, that thirty or fifty square meter arcade was packed—half were his age, the other half sixteen or seventeen, all glued to the screen watching little characters jump around and giggling like fools.”
The boy protested, “It’s not just little characters jumping, it’s King of Fighters '94. It’s awesome!”
The old man was furious. “You dare talk back? I don’t care what King of Fighters it is, you’re not allowed in the arcade.”
Wang Qiang watched with amusement as the old man scolded his grandson.
To the elderly, gaming consoles really seemed pointless.
But for kids and young people, they were irresistible—especially in an era before computers. Arcades were wildly popular; after school or during holidays, they were always packed with students and, of course, idle young men.
Never mind arcades—soon enough, the Sega MD consoles would be set up in homes as gaming rooms, charging two or three yuan for a short session...
Wait.
MD gaming rooms?
Wasn’t that basically the precursor to internet cafés?
Wang Qiang’s mind started working again, realizing he’d fallen into a rut—always thinking about selling consoles rather than considering how popular gaming was in this era. Why sell the Famicom units at all?
Why not make money another way?
For example, by opening a Famicom gaming room—rent a small space, buy a few second-hand TVs. It seemed entirely feasible.
Though it wouldn’t bring in quick cash, it would be steady, and with gaming so popular nowadays, it might make as much as selling consoles.
The more he thought, the more promising it seemed, especially when he recalled how hard his mother worked selling fish—up before dawn, carting them to town, earning only through sheer effort. If he opened a Famicom gaming room and had his mother run it, she could sit and collect money, much easier, and it wouldn’t stop him from flipping goods on the side.
Why not?
Worth a try?
The moment the idea took hold, his heart began to itch. He couldn’t afford to open an arcade or an internet café, but surely a Famicom gaming room was possible? He didn’t know exactly how the business would go, but judging from how popular MD gaming rooms would be in a couple of years, it seemed worth a shot.