The Price Was Half-Negotiated When the Nokia Rang!

At 6:40 on Saturday morning, the first bus from Hangzhou to Yiwu departed on time. Lin Fan sat in the last row, hugging his backpack to his chest.

Three thousand yuan in cash was packed in an envelope inside the bag, pressed against his back. He carried two phones in his pockets. If the Nokia for his duty shift rang, he was Little Lin. If the new-number phone rang, he was Manager Ma.

It would be best if the Nokia did not ring today.

During the two-hour-plus ride, he went over the deal in his mind.

There was only one thing to accomplish: secure a thousand pairs of leggings for under three yuan each, while also establishing a connection with He Guangfu.

He had three advantages. First, he had moved goods from Old He's factory for several years in his previous life. The goods were solid, the man was straightforward, and he only accepted cash.

Second, late August was the hardest time for knitting factories. Summer goods were piled up in warehouses and could not be turned into cash, while autumn and winter orders had yet to appear. Workers needed wages, landlords needed rent. At a time like this, anyone showing up with cash was a godsend.

Third, he understood the goods. He could speak the trade jargon, and no one could fool him.

If things went smoothly, he could save more than one yuan fifty per pair compared with buying from a stall. That was fifteen hundred yuan saved on a thousand pairs. More valuable than the money was that when he needed goods for the next seasonal change, he could deal directly with the factory instead of having to put up with stall owners.

Once he got off the bus in Yiwu, the name Lin Fan went back into his pocket.

The factory was in the outskirts. Relying on memories from his previous life, he felt his way there, asking for directions twice before finding the entrance. The iron gate stood half-open. The yard was unnaturally quiet. More than half the rows of sewing machines were idle, and woven sacks were stacked against the wall all the way to the eaves, filled with unsold goods.

He Guangfu squatted outside the office, smoking. He was in his forties, wearing rubber shoes, with one pant leg rolled higher than the other. When he saw a stranger enter, he lifted his eyelids slightly.

"Who are you looking for?"

"You're Boss He, right? I came from Hangzhou. I run an online store and want to buy some leggings."

"An online store, huh." Old He flicked away some ash without getting up. "Two other groups running online stores came before you. They talked a big game, but when it came time to buy, they took thirty or fifty pairs, then disappeared. Brother, the stalls carry our goods. Go buy from them. The factory doesn't do retail."

Lin Fan had expected this before coming.

He did not respond. Instead, he walked to the wall and pulled a pair of black leggings from a tear in one of the woven sacks. He first weighed it in his hand, then gripped the waistband and tugged it apart twice. He released it to watch the rebound, then turned it over to inspect the stitching at the crotch.

"Spandex blended into the cotton lining. The rebound holds up, and the seams are four-thread. They won't burst even after a winter of wear." He draped the leggings back over the sack. "Boss He, your goods sell for four yuan fifty at the Hangzhou stalls. I've bought them before, and they sell well. That's why I came straight to the factory today."

Old He's cigarette stopped halfway to his mouth. He looked Lin Fan up and down, then stood.

"Come in and sit."

There was an old desk and a calculator in the office. Old He poured him a cup of tea.

"How many do you want?"

"A thousand to start."

Old He's hand paused over the calculator. He clearly still did not quite believe it. A young man in his twenties was opening with an order of a thousand pairs.

"A thousand pairs, four thousand two hundred." Old He pushed the calculator over. "Factory price. Fair to young and old alike."

Lin Fan pulled the calculator back, pressed three keys, and pushed it over again.

Two yuan eighty.

"You're robbing me, brother." Old He's voice rose at once. "Two eighty doesn't even cover the yarn. Do you think I got this factory for free?"

"Boss He, you bought the yarn at last year's prices, and this batch has been sitting against your wall all summer." Lin Fan took a sip of tea. "I'm not haggling for fun at two eighty. I'm paying cash. We can settle it today, and I'll count the payment out to you on the spot. You can pay your workers this afternoon."

Old He fell silent. He held the calculator, his fingers hovering over it.

Just then, the phone in Lin Fan's pocket rang.

It was the Nokia ringtone.

The duty phone.

Lin Fan's expression did not change. He stood up. "Please wait a moment, Boss He. I need to take this call."

He walked into the yard, turned his back to the office window, and answered. His tone shifted back to that of a polite newcomer.

"Hello, who is this?"

"Oh, President Zhang, go ahead."

"The submission deadline is five o'clock Monday afternoon. Just upload the pictures and prices to the backend. When I'm at work on Monday, I'll keep an eye on the review for you. Don't worry."

"It's nothing, it's what I should do. You're busy, then."

After hanging up, he stood in the yard for two seconds. Through the window, Old He was craning his neck to look outside.

When he returned to the room, Old He pointed at his pocket. "Business is pretty busy, huh?"

"Customers in Hangzhou are urging me for goods. They're all waiting on this batch." Lin Fan sat down again and picked up where they had left off. "Boss He, what do you think?"

"You're cutting the price too hard." Old He hammered at the calculator buttons. "Three forty. Since you're sincere, that's my final price."

"Two ninety." Lin Fan opened his backpack, took out the envelope, and placed it on the desk without opening it. "Boss He, I'll be straight with you. If this deal goes well, I'll be placing more orders in September and October. The volume will only be bigger than this time. I alone can clear out half the sacks against your wall."

Old He stared at the envelope for a long while, crushed out his cigarette in the ashtray, and slapped his thigh.

"Two ninety it is. I'll make a friend of you!"

When it came time to count the money, Old He called over the two workers still in the workshop to sort the goods. A thousand pairs of leggings, in black, gray, and brown, were bagged by size. He himself squatted beside them, counting the cash stack by stack. After counting it twice, every wrinkle on his face seemed to bloom.

"What should I call you, brother?"

"My surname is Ma. Just call me Manager Ma. The store is part of my family business."

"Manager Ma!" Old He pulled out his phone and saved the number right in front of him, pressing one key at a time. "I'll save it as Manager Ma from Hangzhou. Call me directly whenever you need goods in the future. No need to make the trip."

He saved the new number.

From now on, in this factory, the owner of this batch of goods was called Manager Ma. His surname was Ma, he was from Hangzhou, and his family ran an online store. Nothing else was known.

Old He helped arrange the logistics through a driver he knew, a dedicated Yiwu-to-Hangzhou route. The thousand pairs filled six large woven sacks. For an extra hundred yuan, they would be delivered downstairs to the residential complex. They arranged it for Tuesday morning, and the driver would call Manager Ma when he arrived.

Before Lin Fan left, Old He handed him two more plastic bags. They were filled with socks.

"Cotton socks we knit on the side at the factory. I'm throwing in two bags for you. Try them out online. If they sell well, come back for more."

"Alright. Thanks, Boss He."

He did not refuse the socks. This was not about two bags of socks. If the leggings ever stopped selling, small items like socks would be a fallback to pad the bottom line. A small boat needed extra ballast.

The return bus left at three in the afternoon. Leaning against the window, he went over the day's numbers in his mind.

The goods had cost him two ninety per pair, a full one sixty lower than the stall price. For a thousand pairs, that saved him sixteen hundred yuan on the price difference alone. Selling them at nine ninety each, after subtracting postage and packaging, would leave him more than five yuan per pair. Now that was an account that could keep rolling.

Money was the small matter; connections were the big one. With Old He's line opened up, restocking in the future would only take one phone call. On the way back to Hangzhou, he had also kept an eye out and noted down the name of the neighboring factory, which was also sitting on unsold goods, in his little notebook. He could not hang himself from a single line. He needed a backup.

The duty phone lay quietly in his pocket the whole way, ringing only once at noon.

When Zhou Bin arranged this shift, he could never have imagined that this Nokia would accompany someone to Yiwu to photograph three thousand yuan in cash today.

As they neared Hangzhou, he sent Ma Le a text: A shipment will arrive downstairs Tuesday morning. Give me a hand carrying it up.

Ma Le replied quickly: How much stuff could it be? You need help carrying it? Can't you lift it yourself?

Lin Fan looked at the message and put the phone back in his pocket.

Six woven sacks, each taller than a person. They could talk again when Tuesday came.