Chapter 83 The Walkman Is About to Sell Out

The trip to the Shanghai International Studies University had come to a temporary end. In two days, Wang Qiang managed to sell twenty-eight Walkmans, a result he was thoroughly satisfied with. The only regret was that, before the official start of the semester, the university’s consumer potential had likely been exhausted.

After a night’s fermentation, most of the freshmen who had decided to buy a Walkman had already done so by noon. Even if there were still a few interested, it would only amount to three or five more sales—a number not worth lingering for.

He rode his motorcycle back to the hotel to get lunch. Then, in a hurry, Wang Qiang returned to the Qinghai Road game room. Carrying a basket of food, he had just stepped inside when he saw Old Zhu talking to two middle school students.

“…Regular card, one and a half yuan per hour. Intelligence card, three yuan per hour. Which do you want to play?”

“Regular card, we have class later.”

“That’ll be three yuan for the two of you.”

The two middle schoolers picked their game cards, ran over to Zhu Xiaofeng, and turned on the TV and game console.

Old Zhu lowered his head to make a note in the ledger.

Glancing over, Wang Qiang saw the two young men who’d chosen to play “Metal Max” and “Eight Treasures of Wonder” earlier still there. He walked over to the counter, set the basket down, and called out, “Brother Zhu, those two haven’t left yet?”

Deep in concentration, Old Zhu hadn’t noticed Wang Qiang’s arrival. Startled by the voice, he patted his chest and complained, “You gave me a fright.” Then, looking over at the two young men, he added, “Those two? They’ve been playing since ten o’clock and have already extended their time twice.”

Without thinking much of it, Wang Qiang called out, “Xiaofeng, time to eat.”

“You guys go ahead, I’ll be done soon,” Zhu Xiaofeng replied without even turning his head.

He didn’t look back, but someone else did. The young man in the black T-shirt, Xiao Lin, twisted around with a woeful face and pleaded, “Boss, you’re finally here! Come help me out, this game is killing me.”

Oh? Wasn’t he the one who said it wasn’t hard and refused to play earlier?

Wang Qiang found it amusing, but being attentive to his customers’ requests, he walked over. On the screen, two characters were in a village. He asked, “What’s wrong?”

Xiao Lin pointed at the screen, frustrated. “Why do the villagers all call me a black-hearted fiend and refuse to give me any information?”

Could it be he’d killed the benevolent monsters? Wang Qiang wasn’t sure. “Let me see the controller.” Taking it from Xiao Lin, he opened the menu—over four thousand gold coins. He whistled, “You sure racked up money fast.”

“Of course! Killing those Keheng monsters gives tons of cash. I hunt them specifically,” Xiao Lin replied smugly.

To have memorized the monster names after just two hours showed his obsession. Wang Qiang couldn’t even remember the monster names himself. Opening the character stats, he was taken aback, “Your conscience value is negative seven hundred?!”

“Conscience value? What’s that?” Xiao Lin was puzzled.

Now Wang Qiang understood how Xiao Lin had accumulated so much gold in just over two hours. By relentlessly killing benevolent monsters in “Eight Treasures of Wonder,” he’d earned a fortune, but at the cost of reducing his conscience value. When a player’s conscience dropped below zero, not only would villagers refuse to provide information, but they’d also curse at him.

He explained the situation to Xiao Lin.

“So what should I do?” Xiao Lin asked, bewildered.

“No way around it—delete your save and start over,” Wang Qiang replied.

Xiao Lin was speechless.

Just then, Ah Bin called out, “Boss, I can’t beat the Giant Cannon. What should I do?”

“Did you buy iron shells?” Wang Qiang asked offhandedly.

“Iron shells? What are those?” Ah Bin was curious.

Resigned, Wang Qiang walked over, pointed out the tank rental shop in Bobu Town, and bought the iron shells. He explained, “When you fight the Giant Cannon, fire the iron shells at it. That way, the cannon will be damaged and attack you less. Oh, and buy a fax machine—if your tank gets damaged during the fight, you can fax it back to Lado Town, the first town, and have your dad repair it for free.”

Suddenly enlightened, Ah Bin gave a thumbs up. “Boss, you’re amazing.”

Zhu Xiaofeng leaned over and added, “Told you my Uncle Wang is awesome, didn’t I?”

Having finished helping, Wang Qiang returned to the counter and saw Old Zhu had already taken out the food. They sat down and started eating, paying no mind to Zhu Xiaofeng.

They chatted idly about family matters.

Suddenly, Old Zhu smiled and said, “Four customers since this morning. Not a bad start.”

Wang Qiang, biting into a braised chicken piece, asked, “Four?”

“Yeah, before you got back, a young guy played for about an hour. He’s probably off eating now,” Old Zhu replied.

Wang Qiang nodded, guessing the customer must have come in after seeing the sign outside. Their current business model was to wait for customers to show up—rarely did they advertise. Besides, it wouldn’t be appropriate to promote a game room directly, since their main clientele was students. They couldn’t exactly hand out flyers at school, so he decided to stick with the existing shop model.

Soon, Zhu Xiaofeng came over to eat.

After the meal, Old Zhu took the dirty bowls and plates away.

For the rest of the afternoon, only Wang Qiang and Zhu Xiaofeng tended the store. After all, Old Zhu had opened the game room in partnership for his son and Wang Qiang, so they naturally handled the business.

Sure enough, people trickled in to play throughout the afternoon.

Not many—just three or four.

But once school let out, the game room saw a small rush. Out of nowhere, a group of elementary school kids poured in.

“Boss, how do you use the game consoles?”

“Regular card, one and a half yuan. Intelligence card, three yuan. Which will it be?”

“So expensive! Zhang Yu, I’ll pay eighty cents and you pay seventy, let’s each play half an hour, okay?”

“Okay, okay!”

From about five to six in the afternoon, the game room was at its busiest, with fifteen or sixteen consoles all occupied—including one by Zhu Xiaofeng. Several times, Wang Qiang was called over to help with games. Xiao Lin and Ah Bin had left around two in the afternoon.

…

At seven o’clock in the evening, Old Zhu came to pick them up.

They locked up, and the three of them set off for home.

Downstairs, the night in Shanghai was enchanting. Neon lights of all colors adorned the streets, making them more beautiful and lively. As the evening breeze swept by, Wang Qiang stretched lazily, feeling wonderfully refreshed.

Old Zhu mused aloud, “It’s getting chilly—I’m going to buy a pair of cotton slippers. Do you want any?”

“I’m good,” Wang Qiang replied.

“I’m fine too,” Zhu Xiaofeng echoed.

“Well, you two wait here. I’ll head over to that stall under the orange streetlamp and get some,” Old Zhu said, and turned toward a nearby roadside stall.

Zhu Xiaofeng’s eyes were bloodshot from gaming, but he was still excited. “Uncle Wang, just now Lü Bu helped me defeat enemies—one slash, one down! Can I recruit him?”

“Sure, but you need—” Before Wang Qiang could finish the word “trust,” he paused, glancing into the distance.

Buy slippers? From a stall?

He hadn’t paid much attention until now, but as he spoke with Zhu Xiaofeng, he suddenly noticed that the street was already crowded with vendors. This was a commercial street, and looking closely, there were all kinds of stalls from south to north—selling sugarcane, fruit, clothes, pants, and more.

Had the city inspectors already passed through?

Otherwise, why so many stalls?

Wang Qiang’s eyes lit up. That afternoon, he’d been wondering which university to target next for selling Walkmans, but seeing this, why bother with a campus? He could just go set up at North Square tonight.

He’d sold only twenty-eight Walkmans to hundreds of freshmen at the university, but at North Square, he could surpass that in a single day. He knew this from experience. Excitement bubbled up—there were only twenty-five Walkmans left, and they should sell out quickly at North Square.

…

North Square.

It was just before eight o’clock when Wang Qiang finally arrived, sweating and out of breath, dragging his woven bag. He jogged all the way, exhausted and overheated.

At the entrance, he saw the old man selling tea eggs already seated comfortably.

“Good evening, sir,” Wang Qiang greeted him.

Bathed in the lamplight, the old man chuckled, “You sure have sharp ears. You showed up as soon as the coast was clear for stalls?”

Wang Qiang spread out his cardboard sign. “I saw others setting up, so I figured the inspectors must have passed.”

“They have,” the old man confirmed.

So, it was true.

Only twenty-five Walkmans remained.

He hoped to sell as many as possible tonight.

He carefully set out the cardboard sign with the price written in black watercolor marker. Having lost the old sign, he’d had to make a new one, which had delayed him a bit.

As the melodious music played, Wang Qiang chatted idly with the old man.

Gradually, a crowd gathered. Even hurried passersby, upon hearing the music, would glance over in curiosity. Soon, just as before, a small crowd formed around his stall.

Before long, his first customer appeared—a young woman in her twenties, with a round, adorable face. “You’re selling Walkmans for only a hundred and ten?”

Having seen the success at the university, Wang Qiang had decided to raise his price. Smiling broadly, he replied, “That’s right, beautiful lady. Would you like one?”

While squatting to pick a color, she asked, “They're several hundred at the mall. Why are yours so cheap?”

Wang Qiang had answered this question countless times. As always, he explained, “They only play tapes—they can’t record.”

“Oh, I see.” She nodded thoughtfully. “Can you make it a bit cheaper?”

“It’s a clearance price—any lower and I’ll have to jump off the roof,” Wang Qiang joked.

“Jump off the roof?” She blinked, intrigued.

He replied humorously, “Wouldn’t I have to, if I lost everything?”

She burst out laughing. “That’s a funny way to put it.” She chose a purple Walkman. “Alright, I’ll take this one.”

After taking her money, Wang Qiang upsold her some tapes. She picked out two and left satisfied.

Once she was gone, the old man leaned over and whispered, “You raised your prices?”

Wang Qiang nodded.

“Greedy merchant,” the old man teased.

Wang Qiang grinned. “As if you’re any better.”

The old man fell silent, unable to retort.

The two of them chatted and joked, occasionally attending to their own customers, while time slipped quietly by.

Soon, it was around half past nine.

The night wind grew stronger. Wang Qiang prepared to pack up. Counting carefully, he found he had sixteen Walkmans left.

Nine sold in an hour and a half?

Clearly, if you want to sell fast, you need a crowded place.

Wang Qiang was thrilled. Looking at the remaining Walkmans on the cardboard sign, he estimated that with another morning at the stall, he’d sell out by afternoon. Then he could focus entirely on running the game room.

Normally, he’d be asleep by now, but the thought of becoming a ten-thousand-yuan man by tomorrow kept him wide awake.

It was only the endless night that frustrated him.

He wished tomorrow would come sooner.

He hoped for clear skies. Gazing at the starry heavens, Wang Qiang took a deep breath, ready to embrace the first real growth in his life. He believed that in one more day, all the Walkmans would be sold.