Chapter 4: My Desperate Desire to Improve

At half past six in the morning, Chen Qi was already awake. Outside, it was too noisy—everyone was bustling about, cooking and preparing to go to work, making it impossible to sleep.

He reached for his nylon socks and put them on, tucking his long johns into the socks. The socks were blue with a checkered pattern, with a prominent heel patch. They were sturdy and easy to wash, brightly colored and elastic, but didn’t absorb sweat well, making them prone to foot odor.

Especially in winter, when he’d pull his feet out and warm them by the stove, the socks would sizzle and smoke.

A single pair of nylon socks cost two to three yuan, which most people found hard to afford. In later times, cotton products were expensive while synthetic fibers were cheap; now, the reverse was true—cotton was affordable, but synthetic fibers were costly.

The famous “Dacron” was actually polyester.

So what did the poor wear for socks? Cloth socks—non-elastic and slippery, which is why they had two straps to tie them around the calves, much like ancient times. Monks and Taoists wore such cloth socks as well.

A few years later, as the textile industry developed, every household had nylon socks. People born in the 70s, 80s, and 90s would have worn them. There was even a popular rhyme at the time: “Suspenders, pants, white sneakers, nylon socks showing halfway up—the height of cool…”

“Stay home and don’t cause trouble!”

“If you need anything, come find me at the bookstore!”

After breakfast, his parents left for work. Yu Xiuli reminded him like he was a child—parents always see their kids as never growing up, telling a 20-year-old not to open the door to strangers, buying snacks for them at 30…

Chen Qi continued as a left-behind child.

But he kept busy, locking the door and pulling out manuscript paper from under the bed, sitting at the desk to write, occasionally referring to the geography atlas.

In his previous life, he had worked at a media company, later started his own business, and had written extensively—his pen was strong. However, he purposely wrote with less skill now because he wanted to freeload.

In this era, intellectuals were highly valued and well compensated.

Whether it was novels or scripts, if a magazine or film studio saw potential, they’d invite the author to revise their work, covering travel expenses, providing accommodation, and giving a daily living stipend.

Take Yu Hua, for example. He was an inexperienced dentist who submitted to “Capital Literature.”

The editor called him long-distance, saying his writing was good but the ending was too bleak—could he make it more optimistic? Yu Hua replied, “As long as you publish it, I can make it optimistic all the way through!”

He eagerly went over, freeloading at the magazine’s guesthouse, eating and drinking on the house, getting a two-yuan daily stipend, staying for an entire month. When he left, he wasn’t short of money but actually had several dozen yuan more in his pocket.

But to Chen Qi, a month was too short!

He freeloaded by the year!

If the magazine was stingy, film studios were not. Screenwriters often lived at the studios year-round, masters of freeloading. So Chen Qi wasn’t writing novels—he was writing a literary screenplay.

Screenplays paid much better than novels—unless you were writing a long novel.

“I don’t want to live in an alley!”

“I want to stay in a guesthouse!”

He buried his head, trying hard not to spill his urine as he wrote. Suddenly, Huang Zhanying’s voice came from outside, tinged with sobs, “Chen Qi, are you there?”

“Yes, yes, I’m here!”

“Oh, what’s wrong?”

He opened the door and saw the girl with tear stains and a gloomy expression. He quickly invited her in and asked, “What happened?”

“Yesterday, Aunt Wang came to our house and talked about selling tea. My parents actually agreed!”

“Why did they agree?”

“They work at the same unit, and there’s only one spot to take over. It was already decided for my brother. He just graduated middle school, didn’t get into high school, and is unemployed at home… sob, I don’t want to sell tea…”

Huang Zhanying wiped her eyes, unsure whether she was crying because of selling tea or because of her parents’ favoritism.

Chen Qi’s empathy was limited—he couldn’t truly relate—but he was serious when it mattered and playful when appropriate. “So you’re going to sell tea?”

“Yes.”

“That’s great! I’ll go too!”

He acted joyful, saying, “I was worried about going alone. With you around, I’m not scared; you’re tougher than me in a fight.”

“You’re such a guy!” Huang Zhanying pouted.

“I’m physically weak. Who’s like you, like Zhang Fei? Actually, I’m quite optimistic about you doing this work. You’re cheerful, confident, and smart. You were the leader among the sent-down youth during the squatter camps, but just lacked a stage to shine.

“Now that we’re running a cooperative, I think you’re the best fit. This is a vast world full of opportunities. I absolutely support you!”

Some people like to rely on others; some like to be relied upon.

Huang Zhanying was the latter. Slightly embarrassed by the praise, she said, “But, but we’re just selling tea. What kind of achievements could there be?”

“There’s a lot going on here!”

Chen Qi stood and looked outside, lowering his voice to avoid eavesdropping. “Aunt Wang said there are 80,000 unemployed youths in the district, right?”

“Yes. So?”

“Do you realize how big a social risk it would be if these 80,000 can’t find jobs?”

“Uh…”

Huang Zhanying thought for a moment and said, “I understand this much—the government cares a lot about employment.”

“More than just care—it’s the top priority! Listen, policy is flexible. It can shift with the needs of the big picture. The government has already relaxed many restrictions to accommodate employment.

“Don’t think that selling tea is just selling tea. For example, can we also sell sunflower seeds? Some salted broad beans? Add a few chairs for customers to rest? Maybe even put on performances, rent a shop, open a proper store?

“Or think bigger—Guangdong has established the Shekou Industrial Zone, Sino-American relations have been established, foreign goods will flood in. Can we bring some goods back to sell?”

Sss!

Huang Zhanying sucked in a breath, alarmed. “Isn’t that speculation and profiteering?”

“Hey, remember what I just said—there can be appropriate compromises for the greater good. Don’t go overboard. Just a small operation, and the authorities will turn a blind eye.

“What we need now is the right mindset. Don’t think selling tea is shameful. No matter what the winds say, stand firm and unshaken.”

“Wow, how do you know all this?”

“I read some unofficial books. I know a little.”

“Though I don’t fully understand, I think it’s awesome.”

Huang Zhanying was lucky—she got a taste of the grand vision Chen Qi painted after he arrived. She naturally adopted an entrepreneurial spirit and exclaimed excitedly, “Tell me more, Comrade Chen Qi! I really want to improve!”

…

Chen Jianjun and Yu Xiuli kept searching for job opportunities for their son.

But the employment situation was severe. Good jobs were already taken; they weren’t qualified for average jobs; and the poor jobs were fiercely competed for. The last options were hardly better than selling tea.

It gave the impression of a 985 graduate with a master’s degree earning only 5,000 yuan a month, caught in a vicious cycle of competition.

At this moment, just as at that moment…

Every family had its difficulties. Just two days later, all 13 unemployed youths under Aunt Wang’s contract agreed to sell tea.

Other streets in Chongwen District also established cooperatives, including bamboo mat weaving, knife sharpening, engraving, hand-knitting sweaters, painting doors and windows—everything imaginable—flourishing like any previous campaign.

Meanwhile, a small number of individual entrepreneurs appeared on the streets. Without licenses and not officially recognized, they lurked like rats in the gutters, watching this wave of reform.

(An image was inserted in the article—please gather opinions on whether it disrupts normal reading.

None…)