Chapter 8

Chapter 9

I knew that Peking University's campus network would gradually be completed in 1992, that "political obstacles" would block China's connection to the Internet that year, and that the Patent Law would be amended for the first time. In 1992... I was in fourth grade, and Zhang Xiaotong was in her second year of junior high. She had truly blossomed into a graceful young woman, and love letters from male classmates would turn up in her desk from time to time.

I couldn't help scratching my head... Damn it, how come I didn't remember boys being so bold back then?

Zhang Xiaotong had grown prettier and more confident. She often told me, "You gave me my confidence and my knowledge, so you're the only person I support." That moved me quite a bit. There were practically no secrets between us; she told me absolutely everything she knew. Whenever I had nothing else to do, I would sigh over how the greatest temptation in the world was a beautiful girl with her guard down. Wasn't she just leaving me to wrestle with myself...?

After New Year's Day, I had Zhang Xiaotong release the novel before her exams and demand a rate of 100 yuan per thousand characters. If nobody could meet that rate, nobody would get it. She did as I said. A few private publishers called and offered as much as 120 yuan per thousand characters. I told her not to agree yet, and to give the opening of the novel, free of charge, to the editorial offices she had previously had the best relationships with.

Once the opening was published, news of a new work by the gifted young writer Zhang Xiaotong exploded everywhere. Calls about publication tripled. I told her to hold her ground, then publicly invite the highest bid after thirty thousand characters had been serialized and donate all the proceeds to the disaster-stricken areas of Anhui. Anhui had suffered severe flooding in 1991, accounting for over twenty percent of the nation's flood losses. Her little bit of money couldn't accomplish much; it might even get spent on food and drink. But that wasn't the point. Yet another unexpected move from Zhang Xiaotong sent her flagging popularity soaring. The negative public commentary changed direction entirely. I told her to keep refusing most interviews and not to make exceptions for television stations either. Unplug the phone, remove the mailbox, and move if that wasn't enough. The two of us secretly revised another work I had already written. We had to strike while the iron was hot.

After Zhang Xiaotong had spent nearly a month dodging people, half a month into the school's winter break, another of her works, "Black and White, Following the Wind," was born. Nobody had ever written a youth novel about Go before. Although some questioned "whether fiction like this conformed to the facts," there was no denying that it was a good read. This coincided with the excellent opportunity presented by the nationwide campaign to study the Southern Tour speeches in depth. Her work embodied the characteristics of reform and opening up, so it was readily accepted. There were a few faint dissenting voices, but they were drowned out by the unanimous praise.

We couldn't donate to disaster relief this time. Even a million Zhang Xiaotongs couldn't cover the losses from the East China floods. She sold the manuscript to the Times Youth Newspaper for the high rate of 150 yuan per thousand characters. In the dead of winter, the two of us sat staring blankly at this bank account that truly belonged to us. It already held over a hundred thousand yuan in cash, an absolutely staggering sum for an ordinary wage-earning household in 1992.

"Sis, let's open a shop."

"A shop?" Zhang Xiaotong looked a little confused. "What kind of shop?"

"I've thought it through carefully. We don't have enough money for a cinema, and that business is too messy anyway. I couldn't bear to have you doing that. A bookstore makes money too slowly, and watching students steal books every day would probably get on your nerves. Arcades and pool halls always bring more trouble. As for a casino, that might be possible in a few years..." I counted them off on my fingers. "After thinking it over, I found something that suits you best."

"What?"

"A Western-style cake shop," I said. "Beiguan City has almost five hundred thousand people. How many birthdays do you think there are every day?"

Before Zhang Xiaotong could reply, I continued, "Don't worry. I'm planning to open it in your name, and it won't interfere with school. The investment and profits will all be yours. We'll hire relatives from the family as staff. Once they feel they aren't earning enough, we'll bring in outsiders to run it, then sell the business for a high price. That way, we can make sure we raise a fairly substantial sum within two years. What do you think?"

Zhang Xiaotong still said nothing. She just looked at me for a long time.

Her stare made me a little uneasy. "What's wrong with you...?"

"I know you can plan everything perfectly." After holding back for so long, her face finally blossomed into a smile. "But what about your share, my dear little brother?"

"Huh? Isn't what's mine yours?" I smiled at her. "Why draw lines between us? Didn't you say you'd support me in everything?"

"You..." She pressed my nose. "Don't you know women are fickle?"

"You call yourself a woman?" I sneered. "You're too green even to be called a girl."

"You dare call me green? Just watch how I deal with you!"

After laughing and fooling around, it was time for business. First came the business license.

While eating at home, Zhang Xiaotong suddenly asked my eldest uncle, "Uncle, I heard Auntie isn't working right now. I have an idea, and I'd like her help."

Everyone in the family knew by now that Zhang Xiaotong was a wealthy young writer. At her words, my eldest uncle immediately put on a broad, ingratiating smile. "Xiaotong, we're family. There's no need for formalities. Just tell us what you need."

Zhang Xiaotong set down her chopsticks and said quietly, "I want to invest a hundred thousand yuan in a shop specializing in Western-style cakes. I'd like Auntie to manage it for me."

A clatter ran around the table as chopsticks fell onto the tabletop or the floor. Feigning innocence, I looked around at the family: my parents, Zhang Xiaotong's parents, my second uncle and his wife, my youngest aunt and her husband... Everyone's eyes were fixed eagerly on Zhang Xiaotong.

My eldest uncle trembled. "How much did you say?"

"A hundred thousand," Zhang Xiaotong said. "I have some more if that isn't enough, but I've already worked it out. A hundred thousand will be plenty. If Auntie can't handle everything alone, she can hire more people. How about I pay her a thousand yuan a month?"

"Nonsense!" Her father was the first to lose his patience. "This is ridiculous! Having your aunt run a shop for you-how can you even say such a thing?"

"Dad, you said you'd give me a year to try things my way." Her expression remained unchanged, a composure forged through over a year of news coverage and verbal and written attacks. "You don't need to worry. Even if I lose it all, I can earn it back by writing books."

"Yes, yes, Xiaotong's right." My eldest aunt was the first to catch on. A thousand yuan a month-never mind working for her niece, what would it matter even if she were working for her own daughter? "I certainly have plenty of time. Xiaotong, if you aren't afraid I'll lose all your money, let me give it a try."

"Sister-in-law, aren't you just spoiling her...? Look at her..."

My eldest uncle spoke up. "That's enough, Chang Yu. Honestly, when it comes to ambition, our Xiaotong is second to none. Ask yourselves-which of you works as hard as she does? I asked Xinglu, and he said he couldn't write as many words as Xiaotong has even if you beat him to death or gave him his whole lifetime. The girl has learned a lot. When she has ideas, you should support her. How can you talk like that? Xiaotong, you have my support!"

I spat inwardly. You wouldn't be saying that if your wife weren't getting a thousand yuan a month, you old fox. Still, his words were sound. Everyone felt a little ashamed. Quite a few family members had benefited from Zhang Xiaotong's fame since the previous year, so none of them was in a position to object.

"Thank you, Uncle." Zhang Xiaotong forced out a smile. I understood how that felt. "How about this? I'll give Auntie the money tomorrow. She can get the business license and health permit for me first, while I use winter break to sort out the ingredient supplies. Dad, could you find me a couple of cake bakers?"

Her father gave a cold snort and said nothing. Her mother pinched him beside her. "Sweetheart, never mind your dad. I'll find them for you."

As I lowered my head to drink my porridge, I gave Zhang Xiaotong a thumbs-up under the table. "Impressive!"

She stuck out her tongue, making a show of being cute.

Once they saw the cash, the family's enthusiasm reached unprecedented heights. I was amazed by their connections and ability to get things done. The licenses were issued in less than three days, and Zhang Xiaotong and I had more or less settled on a place to rent. During that time, I used my memories to find several supply channels and lay the groundwork for her.

We left all the face-to-face meetings to my eldest aunt. We were too young; people wouldn't trust us if they saw us. She was riding high those days. Everyone treated her with the utmost respect, leaving her feeling extremely pleased with herself. Well, of course, I thought. Give me money, and I'll treat you with the utmost respect too.

After more than a week of running around, most of it was settled. Zhang Xiaotong personally designed the cake shop's sign, while I suggested that she advertise on television and contact the city television station to propose a paid song-request service.

Beiguan City Television had only just established its cable television division in 1992. Its first advertising director was an older friend of mine from my previous life. I had Zhang Xiaotong call him and simply introduce herself, saying she wanted to discuss something with him. As soon as he heard it was the nationally famous young writer, he agreed.

Zhang Xiaotong took me to meet Dong Qinghua in the cable station's still rather shabby office. I studied his face carefully. There weren't so many wrinkles around his eyes and brows yet. He was only thirty-three now, in the prime of his ambition and confidence. Unfortunately, the good times hadn't lasted. Later, amid personnel infighting, he had pulled out.

Zhang Xiaotong explained her purpose very clearly. She wanted to advertise on cable television, but not on a short-term basis. She gave Dong Qinghua a proposal she had written. If he thought it workable, he could follow it; if not, they could forget it.

From what I knew of Dong Qinghua, he wasn't the sort to steal someone else's ideas and claim the credit. So I had detailed the benefits and budget for launching a song-request channel in the proposal, even including how the money could be used for further development. After a quick read, his face was already full of astonishment. I inwardly scoffed. That was written in the proper format for corporate executives, with all the key points in the outline. One glance tells you how much of what you want this proposal can deliver. If I couldn't impress you with that, I might as well give up.

"Please take another careful look," Zhang Xiaotong reminded Dong Qinghua softly. Her manner resembled that of a mature woman brimming with charm.

Dong Qinghua lowered his head and read it again. This time, he hesitated no longer. Rising to his feet, he said briskly, "Miss Zhang Xiaotong, here's to a happy partnership."

In that proposal, I had suggested that the Snow Fate Western Pastry Boutique provide five free cakes each day, with winners drawn from readers of the city's Radio and Television Weekly. The city cable station's song-request channel had to add the words "Snow Fate Western Pastry Boutique wishes XX a happy birthday" to every requested song. Anyone who spent at least seven hundred yuan at Snow Fate would receive one free song request from the cable station. On the surface, the station seemed to be getting the worse end of the exchange, but I knew Dong Qinghua would consider the practical fact that very few people spent over seven hundred yuan on an individual birthday cake, so he would certainly agree. In fact, I knew even better that most of his attention was on the suggestions for allocating the song-request channel's resources sensibly. I was merely returning the media experience I had learned from him, intact-though a little early...

Promoting a product before it was finalized was my usual style. After settling things with Dong Qinghua, we began designing the interior. The premises we had chosen were already very close to what I wanted, so the decorating took only a few days.

Before the decorating was finished, word had already spread rapidly that the city's talented young writer Zhang Xiaotong was opening a birthday cake shop. Plenty of curious onlookers dropped by whenever they had nothing else to do. All the groundwork previously laid to promote her came into play now, with print and television media scrambling to cover the story. If she hadn't been so famous, I figured the advertising bills alone could have crushed us ten thousand times over.

Following Zhang Xiaotong's wishes-which were really mine-my eldest aunt hired eight people. Zhang Xiaotong explained that this was to handle deliveries. Since she was paying, everyone had to listen, even if they had private doubts.

After all that fuss, the birthday cake shop finally opened. These cakes didn't demand much technique; they just had to look good. By that standard, the bakers my youngest aunt had found were pretty decent.

I waited cheerfully on the sidelines to watch the show, calculating roughly when my eldest aunt would start getting other ideas.

The Spring Festival arrived.