Making the most of everyone's talents

Shi Gui ran back to his friend's place as fast as he could, picked up the exam papers, and ran toward No. 1 Middle School.

Getting a foothold was the most important thing. If the students at No. 1 Middle School all used these papers, students and teachers at other schools would very likely choose this set too.

Wang Meng helped carry a bundle as well, but the run left him panting.

By the time they reached the back gate of No. 1 Middle School again, more than a dozen students were waiting there.

After a brief inspection, the representatives from several classes divided up every last paper.

Yang Rui had insisted on strict standards when mimeographing the papers. Stencils were discarded as soon as the print began to fade, and freshly printed sheets had to be thoroughly aired and dried. In terms of quality alone, they were more than several times better than the papers the school printed itself.

After all, neither the teachers nor the students had the energy or the awareness to exercise strict quality control over the papers they printed at school. Most made thrift their first priority.

Yang Rui, on the other hand, had visited quite a few large companies at home and abroad with his adviser, and simple production-line procedures were easy enough to design.

Shi Gui stood on the curb by the back garden collecting money. Before long, loose change filled his trouser pockets.

No. 1 Middle School was the largest secondary school in Xi County, with twelve graduating and repeat-year classes totaling more than six hundred students. Its teaching quality and college admission rate were both far higher than Xibao Middle School's. Last year, more than twenty students had gained admission to junior colleges or above, including six admitted to undergraduate programs. Students from the surrounding area fought tooth and nail to get in, all for that small chance.

Correspondingly, the county's No. 1 Middle School had much higher requirements. Students who had not previously attended the school had to pay an extra fifty yuan in tuition or miscellaneous fees to join its repeat-year classes, ten times what other ordinary secondary schools charged.

Even so, families in the county who could afford it still did their best to send their children there.

Compared with the other hefty expenses, twenty cents for a set of exam papers was a perfectly ordinary purchase. A mere hundred and fifty-odd sets amounted to little.

Leaving the last few sets with Wang Meng, Shi Gui also gave him a pack of cigarettes and said, "Keep an eye on things at the school for me. If anyone else wants some, make a note of it. I'll send a telegram to Xibao right now and have them deliver more papers."

Wang Meng cheerfully agreed, watching enviously as Shi Gui ran out of sight with uneven strides.

Shi Gui chose to send a telegram without hesitation. To explain the situation, he used a full sixteen characters: "Sold out. Two hundred sets presold. Send new stock to Gear Factory immediately."

The post office charged three cents per character for telegrams, so sixteen characters cost forty-eight cents, plus one cent for the telegram form, for a total of forty-nine cents. That was more than a pack of Daqianmen Cigarettes.

Paying hurt Shi Gui a little, but the thought that he had sold 150 sets of papers almost before he knew it cheered him up again.

The 150 sets brought in thirty yuan, of which he would receive six. That was already quite a sum. Adding the two hundred extra sets people had ordered meant another eight yuan waiting for him.

And this was only the beginning.

Shi Gui felt as though he had grasped something important.

His only worry was whether production on Yang Rui's end could keep up.

Two hundred sets meant 2,400 sheets. Expanding sales would naturally require producing even more papers. Shi Gui was already beginning to regret not having insisted on finding a printing house.

Of course, it was only a thought. With the strict procedures printing houses required, Yang Rui might be able to get things done through his contacts, but Shi Gui would have contributed nothing. His share might end up shrinking again.

At that thought, Shi Gui stopped in his tracks and reconsidered the question of shares that Yang Rui had raised.

At noon the next day.

Shi Gui met the two students who had come to deliver the papers. They had taken the early bus and hired a three-wheeler. Its cargo bed was packed full, leaving them room to sit only along the sides.

"Please sign for these." One student handed Shi Gui a slip that looked like a receipt. It was mimeographed too.

Shi Gui pointed at himself in surprise. "Don't you recognize me?"

"We do."

"Then why do I need to sign?"

"If you don't sign, how will Brother Rui know whether you took the papers or I did?" The student held out the receipt again.

Shi Gui signed his name irritably before asking with concern, "How many sets did you bring?"

"Four hundred." The two students pulled back the cloth covering the rear cargo bed, revealing neatly bound bundles of exam papers between stiff cardboard covers.

"That many?" Shi Gui had thought getting two hundred sets delivered would be good enough.

The two students exchanged glances and laughed. The slightly sturdier one, who had spoken earlier, said first, "Brother Rui said you'd ask that. For the next month, we'll be producing at least this much."

"How did you manage that?"

"After your telegram arrived yesterday, Brother Rui paid the part-timers' wages out of his own pocket. Ten cents an hour-the first-year students went wild for it." The other student lowered his voice. "Brother Rui only gave the repeat-year classes ten part-time slots. Otherwise, even five hundred sets would be a breeze."

"Then will there be even more next month?" Shi Gui promptly asked.

The student shook his head. "Brother Rui said we might put out another set next month, depending on when the market gets saturated."

Shi Gui nodded without quite understanding.

Still, he soon put the matter out of his mind. Selling the four hundred sets on the vehicle was what mattered most.

While Yang Rui was raising funds for his teaching, Zhao Dannian also arrived at the city education bureau to seek funding and support for Xibao Middle School.

The school itself did not make a profit. Even with tuition and miscellaneous fees, the amount fell far short of covering its expenses, not to mention that tuition had to be handed over to the authorities.

Zhao Dannian made several trips to the education bureau every year. This time, he had an additional task: asking about the publication of the latest supplementary teaching materials.

Although his rank was low, he had seniority and knew plenty of people in the bureau. Seeing an open door to a deputy director's office, he slipped inside.

"Oh, Old Zhao, you're here?"

"Old Feng? You've been promoted?" Discovering that it really was an old friend, Zhao Dannian smiled happily.

"Just a division-level official, and fifty years old at that. Not much use. Come, come, sit down." Old Feng set down his pen and came around his desk.

Zhao Dannian sat on the sofa without ceremony and asked, "Are you in charge of money?"

Pouring water, Old Feng answered decisively, "No."

"Personnel?"

"Personnel matters all go to the director."

"So you're not in charge of that either?" Zhao Dannian said whatever came to mind.

Old Feng chuckled and nodded.

Zhao Dannian's eyes shifted. "What about infrastructure?"

"No."

"Then what use are you?" Zhao Dannian puffed out his mustache in annoyance.

Feeling rather wronged by this, Old Feng thought for a good while, then continued pouring water. "I used to work on textbook compilation, and I still do. They made me deputy director to sort out my pay and benefits."

"Textbook compilation, textbook compilation..." Zhao Dannian repeated it a couple of times, then slapped his thigh. "Textbook compilation will do too. As it happens, I wanted to ask you whether the province has put out any new internal materials recently. For the college entrance exam."

"There's nothing like that." Old Feng put down the teapot, speaking with certainty.

Zhao Dannian did not believe him. "Don't you fool me."

"Why would I fool you? Honestly, Old Zhao, you just can't rest easy unless you're getting some advantage or pulling a few strings, can you?" After teasing him a little, Old Feng slapped his forehead. "I almost forgot. There's something I wanted to ask you. If you hadn't come, I'd have had to call you."

Zhao Dannian looked at him in puzzlement. "What did you want to ask me?"

"Does your school have a teacher named Yang Rui?" Old Feng asked quite seriously.

The student Yang Rui flashed through Zhao Dannian's mind. Then he shook his head. "There's no teacher named Yang Rui."

"You're not playing fair, Old Zhao." Old Feng leaned forward slightly, his smile like a wilted flower. "I'm not asking you to give him up. Just lend him to me for a few days."

Zhao Dannian grew even more wary. "Tell me why first."

"You don't know?"

"Know what?" Afraid Old Feng would misunderstand, Zhao Dannian explained, "I came to the city a few days ago. I haven't had time to call the school yet."

Seeing that he did not seem to be pretending, Old Feng got up, went to the newspaper rack, and fetched a stack of papers. He pulled out the top one and laid it on the coffee table. "Look, there's an article in this issue of the Middle School Student Herald, credited to Yang Rui of Xibao Middle School, Xi County, Hedong Province. I've read it twice. It's very clearly written, well organized, and develops step by step... Leaving talent like that out in the countryside... Why not lend him to me first, and let everyone put their talents to full use..."

He talked until his mouth was dry before stopping to pick up his cup, only to find a strange expression on Zhao Dannian's face.

Thinking he had a chance, Old Feng hurried on. "Don't be so reluctant to let him go. That reluctance could hold back a young man's future. The Middle School Student Herald is a solid provincial academic journal, not the same thing as those little newspaper pieces. It counts toward professional title evaluations and awards. Writing an article like this wasn't easy for him. You ought to be considerate, shouldn't you?"

Zhao Dannian's expression grew stranger still.