I Want So Badly to Get Ahead

At six thirty in the morning, Chen Qi dragged himself out of bed.

It was too noisy outside. Everyone was bustling about, cooking and getting ready for work. There was no way he could sleep.

He reached for his nylon socks and put them on, then tucked his long johns into them. The socks were blue and checkered, with a pronounced section at the heel. They were sturdy, easy to wash, brightly colored and stretchy, but they didn't absorb sweat, so they could make your feet stink.

Especially in winter, when you took your feet out and held them over the stove, they'd sizzle and smoke.

A single pair of nylon socks cost two or three yuan, more than most people could bear to spend. In later years, cotton products were expensive and synthetic fibers were cheap, but now it was exactly the opposite: cotton was cheap, and synthetics were expensive.

The famously named "dique liang," for instance, was really just polyester.

So what kind of socks did poor people wear these days? Cloth socks. They had no stretch and slipped down easily, so they came with two ties that could be fastened around the calves, just like in ancient times. Monks and Daoist priests wore cloth socks like these too.

Some years later, when the textile industry had developed, every household would have nylon socks. People born in the seventies, eighties and nineties had probably all worn them. There was a little rhyme back then: "Cropped pants, little white shoes, half your nylon socks on view." Now that was seriously cool...

"Stay at home and don't cause trouble!"

"If anything happens, come find me at the bookstore!"

After breakfast, his parents left for work. Yu Xiuli gave him instructions as though he were a little child. In their parents' eyes, children never grew up: at twenty, they were still told not to open the door to strangers, and at thirty, their parents would still buy them treats...

Chen Qi continued being a left-behind child.

But he was busy. He shut the door, pulled the manuscript paper out from under the bedding, and sat down at the table to continue writing, occasionally checking the Geographical Atlas.

In his previous life, he had worked for a media company and later started his own business. He had written plenty of things, long and short, and was no slouch with a pen. Now, though, he was deliberately writing a little less skillfully, because he wanted to freeload!

Educated people were highly sought after these days and received generous treatment.

Whether it was a novel or a screenplay, if a magazine or film studio saw potential in it, they would invite the author over to revise the manuscript, reimburse the travel expenses, cover room and board, and provide a daily living allowance.

Take Yu Hua, for example. He was still a green young dentist when he submitted a piece to Capital Literature.

An editor called him long-distance and said, "Your writing is good, but the ending isn't very bright. Could you make it a little brighter?" Yu Hua replied, "As long as you'll publish it, I'll make it bright from beginning to end!"

Off he went, happy as could be, freeloading food and drink at the magazine's guesthouse and getting a two-yuan allowance every day. He stayed for a whole month, and when he went home, not only was he no poorer, he had several dozen yuan more in his pocket.

But as far as Chen Qi was concerned, one month was far too little!

He measured his freeloading in years!

That would be difficult at a magazine, but a film studio would be no problem. Those screenwriters made the studio their home year after year; they were all freeloading monsters. That was why Chen Qi wasn't writing a novel, but a literary screenplay.

The payment for a screenplay was much higher than for a novel-unless it was a full-length novel.

"I don't want to live in a hutong!"

"I want to live in a guesthouse!"

He bent over his work, striving to avoid having to empty chamber pots. As he wrote, Huang Zhanying's voice came from outside again, edged with tears. "Chen Qi, are you there?"

"I'm here, I'm here!"

"Oh, what happened?"

He opened the door and saw tear tracks on her face and a gloomy look on her face. He hurriedly invited her in and asked, "What happened?"

"Auntie Wang came to our place yesterday too, to talk about selling tea. My parents actually agreed!"

"Why did they agree?"

"They work at the same place, and there's only one position for one of us to take over. They decided long ago to give it to my younger brother. He just graduated from middle school, didn't get into another school, and he's unemployed at home too... Boo-hoo, I don't want to sell tea..."

Huang Zhanying wiped her eyes. It was hard to tell whether she was crying over selling tea or over her parents' favoritism.

Chen Qi wasn't very good at empathy and couldn't put himself in her shoes, but he was never a rogue when it was time to be serious, and never serious when it was time to be a rogue. He said, "So you're going to sell tea?"

"Yeah!"

"That's great! I'm going too!"

He looked delighted and said, "I've been scared stiff, wondering what I'd do all by myself. With you there, I won't be afraid. You're even better at fighting than I am."

"Listen to you! And you're supposed to be a man!"

Huang Zhanying curled her lip.

"I'm frail. Who's like you, as fierce as Zhang Fei? Actually, I think you'll do really well at this job. You're outgoing and bighearted, you've got a good head on your shoulders, and you were a leader among the educated youth when you were sent down to the countryside. It's just a shame you didn't have much room to show what you could do.

"Now that they're setting up a cooperative, I think you're better suited to it than anyone. This really is a vast world where you can accomplish great things. I absolutely support you!"

Some people liked to depend on others; others liked to be depended on.

Huang Zhanying was the latter. A little embarrassed by the praise, she said, "But, but we're only selling tea. What could we possibly accomplish?"

"There's a lot more to it than meets the eye!"

Chen Qi got up and looked outside, lest the walls have ears. In a low voice, he said, "Auntie Wang said there are eighty thousand unemployed young people in the district, right?"

"Right. What about it?"

"Do you know how serious a hidden danger to society it would be if those eighty thousand people couldn't find work?"

"Uh..."

Huang Zhanying thought for a moment and said, "I can understand that much. The government takes employment very seriously."

"More than seriously-it's a matter of the utmost importance! Let me tell you, policy is very flexible. It can change direction with the needs of the bigger picture. To find people jobs, the government has already relaxed a lot of restrictions.

"Don't think selling tea is just selling tea. For example, could we sell some melon seeds too? How about some salted broad beans? Could we add a few chairs so customers can rest? What if we even put on some performances, rented a place, and opened a proper shop?

"Or think even bigger. Guangdong has established the Shekou Industrial Zone, and China and the United States have established diplomatic relations. Foreign goods will pour in without end. Couldn't we get hold of some merchandise and bring it back to sell?"

Hiss!

Huang Zhanying sucked in a breath of cold air. "Wouldn't that be speculation and profiteering?" she said in alarm.

"Hey, remember what I just said: concessions can be made where the bigger picture is concerned. Of course, don't go too far. If you do it on a small scale, the people above will just turn a blind eye.

"What we need to do now is get our attitude straight. Don't think selling tea is shameful. Let the winds blow from every direction; I shall stand firm and unmoving."

"Goodness, how do you know all this?"

"I read it in some books. I only know a little about it myself."

"I don't entirely understand, but I think it's amazing."

Huang Zhanying was lucky. She got the first grand pie Chen Qi had painted since transmigrating, and spontaneously developed an entrepreneur's mindset. Excitedly, she said, "Tell me more about it from now on, Comrade Chen Qi. I want so badly to get ahead!"

Chen Jianjun and Yu Xiuli had been looking for ways to find their son a job.

Unfortunately, the employment situation was dire. The good positions had long since been spoken for, they didn't qualify even for the middling ones, and people were fighting tooth and nail over the poor ones. In the end, what remained wasn't even as good as selling tea.

It was rather like that all-too-familiar rat race of a 985 university master's graduate earning five thousand a month.

This moment was just like that one...

In any case, every family had its own difficulties. Only two days later, all thirteen unemployed young people Auntie Wang had taken responsibility for agreed to sell tea.

Other neighborhoods in Chongwen District also began setting up cooperatives one after another. There were people making bamboo blinds, sharpening knives and scissors, doing engraving and lettering, hand-knitting sweaters, painting doors and windows, and much more-everything imaginable. Like every previous campaign, it was launched in full swing.

A small number of individual business owners also appeared on the streets and in the alleys. They had no licenses and were not openly recognized, peering at this great tide of reform like rats in a gutter.

(An image was inserted in the article. I'd like to gather some feedback: does it interfere with normal reading?

That's all...)

(End of chapter)