So What If You Ride a Motorcycle? (Seeking Collections and Investments)

For example, buying electronic waste from abroad.

Foreigners also like to be environmentally friendly, shipping their hard-to-handle solid waste—like scrap paper, old clothes, and electronics—to other countries, only paying the transportation costs.

This foreign waste just happened to solve Huaguo's shortage of raw materials, so the country allowed imports, even though this waste was full of germs and pollution. It wasn't until early 2018 that a formal ban on importing foreign waste was enacted, shattering the developed nations' "dream" of relying on China to digest their trash.

Fang Bai had the ability to analyze faulty equipment and electronics, so picking through foreign waste for bargains suited him perfectly.

Of course, he couldn't get his hands on the first pick of foreign waste, but buying cheap, sorted electronic waste was easy enough, and he might make a fortune from it.

Still, he had a lot on his plate right now and no time to mess with foreign waste.

Fang Bai had other ways to make money, like buying used equipment, refurbishing it, and selling it. The unit price was high, profit margins were big, and cash flow was fast—though finding a steal wasn't easy.

But he could give it a shot; there was no cost to trying.

Beyond that, he could also use his past-life experience to become a middleman for valves.

There were plenty of ways to make money, and all three of the above were high-profit paths that didn't take much time, making them a good fit for Fang Bai.

As for the future, plans might not keep up with changes, so he'd focus on the present first and not aim too high.

When it came to renting a place, Fang Bai had two main requirements.

First, it had to be close to the school where he'd be repeating his studies, and he needed to be able to easily leave campus to handle business, balancing both work and school.

Second, the school's teachers had to be competent enough—when he had academic questions, they should be able to answer them properly.

The high schools that met these two criteria were Oubei No. 1 Middle School, Oubei No. 2 Middle School, and Huangyuan Middle School.

With his college entrance exam scores, he could repeat at any of these three schools.

As for the key high schools in the city center, without throwing money around or having connections, getting in was tough.

Fang Bai didn't plan to go to a key high school anyway—the management was too strict, and it didn't suit him.

He'd attended Oubei No. 1 Middle School before and was familiar with the teachers there, so it was his first choice.

He took a rickshaw to the area near Oubei No. 1 Middle School and started looking for buildings on side streets—ones where the first floor could hold equipment and the second floor could be lived in.

At a glance, most of these side-street buildings were used as small workshops, rarely as storefronts.

Finding a place was inconvenient these days, mostly because communication was still a hassle.

Fang Bai bought a pack of cigarettes and a box of matches—he didn't smoke himself, but they were useful for dealing with people—and set out on his search for a rental.

After wandering for over an hour, he found that empty houses were scarce, and none met his requirements.

"For Rent: Two-story building, 75 square meters lot area, 160 square meters floor area, simple decoration, 500 yuan per year, location: 239 Jinta Road."

"Cheap bungalow for rent, 95 square meters floor area, half-year payment, 180 yuan annual rent, location: 58 Jinta Road..."

Rents ranged from a few dozen yuan a year to two or three thousand.

Houses were cheap back then, but apartment buildings were rare.

In May of this year, Wen City's first apartment building—Building 16 of Liming Qiaocun, with 236 units totaling 24,439 square meters—was completed and delivered, with prices at 1,850 yuan per square meter, 1,600 yuan per square meter, and 1,250 yuan per square meter in three tiers. These prices were extremely high for the time, even higher than in Shencheng or Didi. Fang Bai had seen this information in the newspaper.

Residential buildings were also scarce; for example, the newly completed Wendi Jinyuan had an average price of just 1,500 yuan per square meter.

By 2000, new home prices in Wen City were only two to three thousand per square meter.

In 2001, property speculation groups began to emerge in Wen City, and the nationwide property speculation trend started here.

By 2003, Wen City's housing prices were close to 10,000 yuan per square meter, ranking among the highest in the country—even Shencheng wasn't that high—and then the Wen City speculation groups shifted their focus to Shencheng.

Of course, private houses were still very cheap now, a few hundred yuan per square meter, but they were rarely sold.

High rents were mainly due to the abundance of small workshops, with demand outstripping supply.

After wandering for over two hours, Fang Bai found a two-story building with a 70-square-meter lot, a 5-meter frontage, and a 14-meter depth. It had simple decoration—no tiles, of course—a bathroom, and water and electricity already installed. The annual rent was 360 yuan.

It had previously been a small workshop, with three-phase power specifically set up, so it could handle high-power machinery without issue.

The location was near the south gate of Oubei No. 1 Middle School, meeting Fang Bai's requirements.

He couldn't be bothered to keep looking; finding a place was a real hassle these days, and this was the only one nearby that fit his needs. It was barely acceptable, and if it were any farther, he wouldn't want to rent it.

He found the landlord, checked out the house, and when it seemed about right, signed the lease, recorded the water and electricity meter readings, paid the annual rent, agreed on no deposit since it was yearly, and got the keys.

After finishing with the house, it was already three in the afternoon.

He walked to an intersection and saw a young man in a suit sitting on a motorcycle, showing off.

The sleeves of the young man's suit still had the brand tags attached—back then, leaving the tags on suit sleeves was a trendy fashion statement.

Owning a motorcycle in this era was about the same as driving a Mercedes or Ferrari thirty years later, so this flashy rich kid looked pretty cocky. Fang Bai felt like kicking him.

"Damn, so what if you've got a motorcycle?"

"I've owned BBA cars before!"

Fang Bai couldn't help grumbling, but he had to admit that having a motorcycle now was really something—at least he couldn't afford one yet.

In this era, Fang Bai experienced the hassle and inconvenience of not having transportation. He wanted to buy a bicycle; constantly taking rickshaws was costly and, more importantly, inconvenient.

He hailed a rickshaw and went to the secondhand bicycle market. After a quick look, he noticed many bikes had no locks or license plates, and since most people back then were reluctant to sell their own bikes, he suspected they were stolen goods sold to the dealers by thieves.

"Little brother, this bike's practically new—only ninety bucks, a real steal!"

"Thanks, boss, I'll keep looking."

Fang Bai circled around, feeling that buying this kind of bike was practically encouraging the stolen-goods market. In the end, he didn't buy it and left the secondhand market, his plan to save money falling through.

He went to the department store and spent 265 yuan on a 26-inch bicycle and a rubber strap.

When buying the bike, he had to provide ID, register the license plate number, and link it to his ID card. Fang Bai walked away with a little blue booklet.

A few years earlier, buying a bike would've required a bicycle ticket or industrial coupon.

In some provinces, that system might still be in place.

Holding the little booklet, Fang Bai felt a bit like he'd just bought a car.

He strapped his luggage to the rear rack, mounted the new bike, and felt a different kind of joy.

"Riding a bike is way better—good exercise, eco-friendly, and you can feel the fresh air directly, none of that hassle of rolling down a car window."

He pedaled along, heading home, thoughts drifting.

Leaving the county town, the villages he passed were surrounded by terraced fields and endless green mountains. A clear stream ran through the village, its leisurely gurgle filling the air.

The sounds of fieldwork, the calls of livestock, and the clatter of tools wove together into a unique rural symphony.

After about half an hour of riding, Fang Bai's rear end started to feel sore from the bumps, especially on the rough, potholed dirt roads of the countryside.

His right hand still couldn't grip the handlebar properly, lacking strength.

Every now and then, a gust of wind swept through, carrying yellow dust that left Fang Bai covered in grime.

"Ah, a car would still be better!"

"Damn it, this crappy dirt road—if it rains, the mud's gonna be a nightmare."

Grumbling aside, Fang Bai kept riding. He passed plenty of people on the road, some walking, others riding horse-drawn carts.

Seeing that, Fang Bai figured having a bike wasn't so bad after all. He rang the bell—ring-ring-ring—a crisp, light, cheerful sound.

As villagers saw the young man on his new bike, some spat at his back: "What's so great about a new bike?"