Isn't This Picking on Honest People?!

"Your tea stall really is convenient for the public. Give me a bowl!"

"I'm from Tangshan. Whose idea was this? It's a great one!"

"Your cooperative won't get shut down tomorrow, will it? Oh, there are so many people in Qianmen. It's nice to have a tea stall."

"This is jasmine tea, isn't it? I could tell with one sip. Here's a tip: boil a big pot of it ahead of time, then pour it into the teapots and use that stove to keep it warm. That way, you can open for business as soon as you get here each day..."

Once someone had taken the lead, the others stopped hesitating.

These days, spitting on the ground could draw a crowd, let alone something new like this. Whether they were thirsty or not, everyone came for a bowl. After all, it was only two fen, and nobody complained about the poor taste, though many still made it clear they looked down on outfits like the cooperative.

Nobody had appointed her, but Huang Zhanying naturally became the one holding everyone together. She served tea with one hand, collected money with the other, and called out to customers all the while, so busy her feet barely touched the ground.

"Yingzi! Yingzi!"

A young man suddenly darted over and said, "We've sold a whole pot already. Should we boil another?"

"Already?"

Huang Zhanying went over and had a look. Sure enough, one pot was empty. She hadn't expected much, never imagining so many people would buy tea. She hurriedly said, "Yes, boil another, quick! Don't let us run out!"

Once she'd given the order, she turned her head for another look, and anger flared in her heart.

"Chen Qi! What are you doing?"

"What's wrong?"

"Everyone's busy out of their minds, and you're squatting here?"

"I'm busy too!"

Chen Qi, squatting off to one side like an old dog, pointed at his head and said, "I'm working something out. Don't disturb me."

"You!!"

Huang Zhanying really wanted to kick him, but for the sake of their revolutionary friendship, she held back and turned to attend to the customers.

Chen Qi remained squatting there, his eyes fixed unblinkingly on the stream of passersby. He watched how frequently people passed the archery tower, what they wore, whether they walked, rode bicycles, or even rode in cars, and whether there were any foreigners...

Ownership of the tea stall was rather murky.

They had scraped together forty yuan to start it: everyone had chipped in a little, and the street administration had contributed some too. In principle, it belonged jointly to the street administration and everyone involved, but there were no detailed rules at the time, so it was generally assumed to belong to the street administration.

For now, Auntie Wang had said that the street administration would take overall responsibility for profits and losses, and each person would receive a monthly wage of thirty-six yuan. Whether they made or lost money, all earnings had to be handed over to the street administration.

But cooperatives like this all made money, and having the street administration assume overall responsibility for profits and losses could easily lead to unfair distribution and discontent. So the following year, the state issued a document making them responsible for their own profits and losses.

Chen Qi did a rough calculation.

At thirty-six yuan per person, thirteen people came to 468 yuan a month. Adding operating costs, he reckoned on no more than 600 yuan.

At two fen a bowl, 30,000 bowls of tea would bring in 600 yuan, or 1,000 bowls a day.

Come on!

This was Qianmen!

A thousand bowls a day? Who were they looking down on? Several times that would be no problem.

This shabby tea stall had a bright future.

Chen Qi intended to run off, and leaving Huang Zhanying here alone would inevitably weigh a little on his conscience. So he pondered how to improve the business, so he could leave with a clear conscience.

One wave of people came after another, unable to get enough of the novelty.

In the blink of an eye, it was noon. Seeing them grow more and more proficient, Auntie Wang had already gone back. Huang Zhanying finally had a chance to rest. She came over with two coarse-grain buns and sat down on the ground. "Phew! I'm exhausted!"

"Thanks for your hard work! This is lunch?"

"What else?"

"That's way too plain!"

Chen Qi took a bun and bit into it. It was dry and coarse. He asked, "Forget fish and meat, don't we even have a little pickle?"

"Pickle? I'll ask..."

Huang Zhanying asked a young woman, who brought over a small lump of pickled mustard root. She also shot Chen Qi a sidelong glance and muttered loudly enough for him to hear, "Everyone's busy, but certain individuals are shirking and slacking off. Who does he think he is, some young master? Hmph!"

Chen Qi couldn't help chuckling. Certain individuals.

Back when he was in school, he'd been the "certain individual" his teachers talked about. One buddy was called "some students," another was "what's more," and yet another was "I won't say who it is, but you know perfectly well." They were known as the school's F4.

Chen Qi silently split his bun open and tucked the pickle inside, making himself a Big Mac coarse-grain pickled-mustard burger.

Huang Zhanying looked at him and said, "I've noticed something. You're getting more and more obsessed with material pleasures, always turning your nose up at this and that. What's next? You want to drive a car, live in a fancy house, and bring back capitalism?"

"I don't have that kind of ability. That's all the wisdom of later generations."

He hurriedly shook his head and asked, "How many bowls did you sell this morning?"

"We haven't had time to count, but business has been good. I'm full of energy now... Oh, right, you need to do some work in a bit. Everyone's got complaints about you. Don't undermine our unity," Huang Zhanying reminded him.

"Mm-hmm, I'll work!"

Chen Qi gave her a vague answer as he gnawed on his Big Mac coarse-grain pickled-mustard burger and washed it down with a big bowl of tea made from tea dust. It was absolutely unbeatable.

Because it tasted so awful, he gnawed on it gently, more gently than he would suck on a girl's tongue.

He had only eaten half when an uproar suddenly broke out over there. Huang Zhanying sprang to her feet and rushed over at once. A large crowd was still gathered, but several frivolous young men were standing at the front, snickering.

"Yo! Where'd these aimless drifters come from?"

"What aimless drifters? Show some respect. They're called self-employed workers!"

"I heard self-employed workers were all released from prison, huh?"

"Oh, my!"

The term "aimless drifters" had appeared as early as the 1950s in a document titled "Instructions on Persuading Farmers Not to Blindly Pour into Cities." Simplified, it gave birth to this highly derogatory term.

Huang Zhanying bravely stepped in front and shouted at the young man leading them, "What are you here for? If you're not drinking tea, get lost!"

One look at the way he dressed showed he was someone raised on a good job. He cried out in an exaggerated voice, "Whoa, this woman's fierce! Just what you'd expect from someone self-employed!"

"You don't know anything. They're not self-employed. It's called a cooperative!"

"Oh~~ So it's called a cooperative!"

The group burst into laughter.

They mocked the workers with sarcastic jibes, and even the onlookers laughed. Not one person stepped forward to stop them, because everyone accepted the divide between these kinds of jobs: state-owned work units offered an iron rice bowl, while collective work units were loathed by people and dogs alike. The self-employed? Sorry, they were lower than dogs.

You couldn't count on everyone to be kind, especially with the enormous prejudices of the era...

Their fellow workers couldn't take it and spoke up one after another. "You're so rude!"

"How can you talk like that?"

"That's right, our work is legitimate too!"

"What legitimate work? You're unemployed young people! Think we don't know? They just found you some random job to give you somewhere to go. So there really are people selling tea!"

"Hey, won't they shut you down tomorrow? You'll have to roll up your bedding and get lost!"

"How did that song go again?"

The young man in the lead grew even more pleased with himself and began singing with an animated expression:

"Abalagu~

Abalagu~

Oh, oh, oh..."

It was an interlude from the 1950s Indian film The Vagabond, called The Song of Raju. The film had been shown in China and rereleased the previous year, causing an enormous sensation. The song's melody was infectious and catchy, and it spread through every street and alley.

Xu Jingqing drew on it to write Indian Maiden, and Bai Zhantang had sung it in My Own Swordsman too.

Practically everyone of their parents' generation had heard it.

Translated, it went: "Wandering everywhere... wandering everywhere..."

As soon as they sang it, one of the girls on the team burst into tears. Several of the young men turned ashen with anger, but didn't know how to strike back. Huang Zhanying's eyes went wide with fury, and she was on the verge of overturning a table and beating someone up.

Her clenched fists trembled, and the little sense of accomplishment she had just felt vanished like smoke beneath their sneers and jeers.

But alongside her anger, she also felt inferior. Why do I have to come here and sell big bowls of tea???

She was a girl, after all. A jumble of feelings surged up inside her, and her eyes reddened, but she forced herself to hold back.

"Comrades, which work unit are you from?"

Just then, a voice suddenly asked the question from a corner of the tea stall. A young man lazily rose to his feet, walked forward a few steps, and asked again, "Which work unit are you from?"

"What do you mean?"

The young man in the lead thrust out his neck and shot the question back. Seeing him approach, he sneered. "What, you looking for a fight?"

"A fight? No, no. I just want to find your leaders and ask them to their faces whether their employees are taught to discriminate against working people like this. Whether their employees disregard unity, sneer and jeer at their brothers and sisters, and feel a sense of class superiority here."

"Don't you dare!"

The young man's expression changed.

"How could I be as daring as you?"

Chen Qi pointed behind him and said, "Take a look. We're from the Dashilan Production and Service Cooperative, thirteen of us in all. You called us aimless drifters and said we'd come out of prison. Do you know how many unemployed young people there are in this city?

"Four hundred thousand!

"Four hundred thousand people, and you've insulted every one of them!

"You're something else!"

Chen Qi gave him a thumbs-up and went on like a string of firecrackers. "The newspapers have said it: finding jobs for unemployed young people is national policy, the number one priority this year.

"From the leader at the top to the street cadres at the bottom, they've worked their hearts out and finally found everyone a way forward. And what happens? In the end, we have to suffer discrimination from garbage like you, standing here making snide remarks and mocking us?

"What's wrong with selling tea? We earn our pay through our own labor, and we're proud of it!

"You discriminate against tea sellers and working people. What, were your ancestors landlords? Or were they fucking capitalists?

"How many years has it been since old China fell? Have the three great mountains come back already?

"Are you fucking trying to bring back capitalism?!!!"

"Y-you, d-don't talk nonsense!"

The young man's face turned green, and he retreated in little steps.

Chen Qi moved first and grabbed him, raising his voice. "The thirteen of us here haven't stolen or robbed anyone. We've each got a red heart devoted to the motherland. Wherever the organization needs us, that's where we go, and what do we get? You standing here spraying shit from your mouths at us!

"Were we wrong to listen to the organization? Were we wrong to serve the people?

"Should we fucking stop being honest? Should we fucking cry and scream until the organization finds us a good job? How the hell does that make any sense?!!

"Speak! Which work unit are you from?! I'll go to your gates and put up a big-character poster today. I'll make sure everyone sees..."

Chen Qi waved his arms, the veins bulging in his neck. At that moment, the souls of Zhang Mazi and Counselor Tang possessed him, and he shouted himself hoarse:

"Isn't this picking on honest people?!!!"

(Thanks to jamesxu-SBZ for becoming an alliance leader. That's all...)

(End of chapter)