Chapter 425: Mao Porcelain

When Li Ping'an pushed open the Siheyuan gate, an old locust tree in the courtyard was shedding a leaf.

The leaf twirled and drifted to his feet.

It's been ten years; this tree has witnessed countless joys and sorrows, and now it remains lush and leafy.

"Dad!"

Li Yaoyang was the first to rush out; the twelve‑year‑old boy vaulted higher than the doorframe and clutched his father's waist.

In four years, the kid grew from eight to twelve, and his features already resembled Li Ping'an's when he was young.

Lin Xueqing stood under the eaves, her eyes slightly reddened, yet she smiled.

"Back?"

"Back."

The simple three words rippled through the courtyard like a stone dropped into a calm lake.

The Xi Kua Yuan was piled high with gifts.

A pearl necklace rested on Lin Xueqing's neck, its warm luster making her skin appear even whiter. Li Nuanqing and Li Anning tried on new dresses, twirling in the courtyard as the skirts fluttered.

"Dad, this dress is really beautiful!"

"Uncle, this book is the original English edition!"

Sha Zhu's hands trembled when he received the cigar box. Cuban-made, the finest brand, one stick worth a day's wages. He couldn't bear to smoke, bringing it to his nose repeatedly, as if holding a priceless treasure.

"Brother Ping'an, this… this is too valuable."

"Smoke it," Li Ping'an laughed, "you earn money, you should enjoy it."

Chen Jianghe's tie was Italian, dark‑blue with subtle pattern, matching his suit perfectly. Li Pingle's watch had a Swiss movement, its dial set with tiny diamonds that glittered under the light.

Even Ma Dongmei received a set of Shiseido cosmetics; holding the bottle of cream, she whispered, "How much does this cost?"

"Just use it," Li Ping'an waved, "you earn money to spend."

Dinner was at Tan Family Lao Wei, in a private room.

The dishes arrived, and the door closed.

Li Ping'an raised his glass.

"This time out, I saw the world and did some things. But everyone here is family; some words, once we leave this door, should not be mentioned again."

Everyone set down their chopsticks.

"If the neighbors ask, just say I'm heading south to survey the market, see if there's business to be done. Anything else, I know nothing."

Li Yaozong nodded, "Dad, I understand."

"Especially matters concerning Japan," Li Ping'an lowered his voice, "the Sino‑Japanese relations are good now, but public sentiment is complicated. We should quietly make big money, without flaunting."

Sha Zhu slapped his chest, "Brother Ping'an, rest assured, my mouth will stay shut tight when it needs to."

Chen Jianghe added more cautiously, "Brother, I'll instruct the men below."

The next day, in front of a newly built six‑story office building on Wangfujing, three signs were hung.

Left: Wanshang Real Estate Development Co., Ltd.

Center: Wanshang Security Service Co., Ltd.

Right: Wanshang International Trade Co., Ltd.

The three companies occupied three floors.

Li Ping'an stood in the first‑floor lobby, watching over a hundred newly hired people.

Young faces, eager eyes, dressed in brand‑new white shirts or suits, standing upright.

"Everyone," Li Ping'an began, his voice low but each word clear, "as of today, you are Wanshang people."

The lobby fell silent.

"Wanshang Real Estate, registered capital one million. Your mission is to travel the country and find the best land."

He stepped to the map, his finger sweeping over city after city.

"Beijing, Zhongguancun, and those promising Siheyuan districts."

"Shanghai, Pudong New District—still farmland now, but I believe in a few years it will become skyscrapers."

"Shenzhen, Guangzhou, Hangzhou, Suzhou, Nanjing, Tianjin, Chongqing, Chengdu… every city's prime spots must have our projects."

"Salary starts at one hundred; do well and there's no ceiling."

A collective inhalation rose from below.

One hundred yuan in 1985 was double the wage of an ordinary worker.

The security company side felt even more solemn.

Wang Dahu stood at the front of the line, his back as straight as a javelin. He had been the Steel Rolling Mill Security Department Section Chief; when Li Ping'an resigned, he wanted to follow, and now the chance finally arrived.

Fifty people stood behind him.

All were veterans: some from field armies, some from border defense, and a few former special forces. The oldest was thirty‑eight, the youngest twenty‑two, all with a soldier's sharp gaze.

"Dahu," Li Ping'an said, "these people are yours."

"President Li, don't worry!" Wang Dahu saluted, "they're all good soldiers!"

"The first mission, go to Shenzhen," Li Ping'an said, "Pingshan Industrial Park is under construction and needs supervision. The equipment is valuable; no mistakes allowed."

"Understood!"

"Salary one hundred, meals and lodging included. Good performance leads to promotion and raise."

Someone in the ranks had their eyes light up.

After discharge, many were assigned to street factories, earning thirty‑forty yuan a month. Now it's one hundred, with meals and lodging—like a pie falling from the sky.

The foreign trade company was on the third floor.

Chen Jianghe's office was the largest; a world map hung on the wall, with the Soviet section circled in red.

Brother, what do you mean?

"Yes." Li Ping'an stood before the map, "The Soviet Union is currently short on light industrial goods; we'll transport southern clothing, alcohol, and food there, exchanging them for their heavy industrial equipment, technology, and even... talent."

Chen Jianghe frowned: "Over there in the Soviet Union, connections are hard to manage."

"That's why I asked you to come." Li Ping'an patted his shoulder, "You're steady, can keep your composure. First go scout the route, establish a channel. When the time is ripe..."

He didn't finish, but Chen Jianghe understood.

The time being ripe might just be when the Soviet Union collapses.

Then, that's when the real show begins.

In the afternoon, Li Ping'an made a trip back to the siheyuan to move.

"Moving?" Lin Xueqing was somewhat surprised, "We're living fine—why move?"

"It's too noisy." Li Ping'an said, "People come and go in the courtyard, making conversation inconvenient. Over at Houhai it's quiet, the courtyard is also big, giving Yaoyang a place to practice his boxing."

More importantly, he wants to install a telephone.

Installing a telephone is now difficult; you need a quota, have to wait in line, and need sufficient justification. But Li Ping'an obtained the quota through connections—specially approved by the Economic and Trade Commission to facilitate "foreign trade."

The siheyuan at Houhai already has its wiring laid.

"When are we moving?"

"Tomorrow." Li Ping'an said, "We don't need to bring much; everything over there is already prepared."

Lin Xueqing looked at the house she'd lived in for over twenty years, feeling reluctant.

The flowers on the windowsill, the family portrait on the wall, the children's height marks carved into the door when they were little...

"Mom, the new place has a bigger yard." Li Yaoyang exclaimed excitedly, "Dad said we can grow grapes!"

Lin Xueqing laughed.

"Alright, let's move."

The move caused quite a commotion.

Two Liberation trucks, load after load, hauled things out. Everyone in the courtyard came out to watch.

Jia Zhangshi leaned against the doorframe, saying sourly, "Well, look at you—struck it rich, moving into a big courtyard."

Bang Geng smoked at his own doorstep, silent. His business has grown; he opened a small shop next to the cinema, earning four or five hundred a month, but in front of Li Ping'an he's still a petty witch compared to a great one.

Xu Damao's snack stall had just packed up; seeing the trucks, he spat.

"What's showing off? Sooner or later you'll have to move back!"

Liu Haizhong stood with his hands behind his back, watched a while, then shook his head and went back inside. He has now fully accepted his fate—just an ordinary retired worker, passing his days playing chess and listening to the radio.

Yan Bu Gui, on the other hand, came over to help.

"Boss Li, need a hand?"

"No need, Third Elder." Li Ping'an handed over a pack of cigarettes; old grudges were settled, and Yan Fugui was merely an old man who liked to take small advantages.

Yan Bu Gui took the cigarette, his hand trembling slightly.

Daqianmen, the best cigarettes.

"Boss Li, you're too kind... too kind..."

The siheyuan at Houhai really is different.

Gray brick flooring, covered walkways, five main rooms, three side rooms each on east and west. The courtyard has a grape arbor, a fish tank, stone tables and stools, a private bathroom, a kitchen, and in the corner two crabapple trees are planted.

Most importantly, the main hall has a telephone installed.

A black dial telephone sits on the redwood tea table, like a work of art.

Li Yaoyang curiously fiddled with it.

"Dad, can this really call Shenzhen?"

"Yes." Li Ping'an dialed a number, waited a few seconds, "Hello, Yaozong?"

From the other end of the phone came Li Yaozong's excited voice: "Dad! It's really you! The phone actually works!"

Lin Xueqing listened from the side, her eyes welling up again.

His son was thousands of miles away, yet the voice sounded as if it were right beside his ear.

This is the power of technology.

Once settled, Li Ping'an's life fell into a routine.

In the morning he went to the company to handle affairs for three firms.

In the afternoon he went to Panjiayuan, browsed the Shigu Zhai shop, and also wandered the ground-level stalls.

Shen Wenyuan now fully supports the shop's business; he has sharp eyes, wide connections, and has even taken on two apprentices—Wu Mingyuan can already independently appraise ordinary items.

That afternoon, Li Ping'an stopped before an inconspicuous stall in Panjiayuan.

The stall owner was a thin old man in worn military uniform, with assorted bottles and jars laid out before him.

What attracted Li Ping'an was a set of porcelain.

Bowls, plates, dishes, cups—ten pieces in all. The glaze is white with a hint of blue, smooth as fat, the body thin and light; held to the light, you can see a shadow through it.

Mao porcelain.

Moreover, it's a premium Mao porcelain from the 1705 Factory—made for special occasions back then, extremely limited in quantity, with craftsmanship that has reached the pinnacle.

Li Ping'an crouched down and picked up a bowl.

It felt warm and smooth, the weight just right.

"Boss, how much for the set?"

The old man lifted his eyes and looked at him.

"Do you know your goods?"

"I know a little."

"Then you name your price."

Li Ping'an extended three fingers.

"Three hundred?"

"Three thousand," Li Ping'an said, "ten pieces, I'll take them all."

The old man's hand twitched.

"You… you really want them?"

"I really do," Li Ping'an said, "but I need to see if there are any others."

The old man stood up, looked around, and lowered his voice.

"In my house… there are five more sets of Li Ling porcelain. They're also from that era, and the condition is better."

Li Ping'an's heart raced.

Li Ling celadon porcelain is rarer than the 1705 porcelain.

"Take me to see."

The old man lived in a large courtyard compound deep within the Alley.

The house was dim, but tidy. He dragged out two wooden boxes from under the bed and opened them.

Inside were five sets of Li Ling porcelain.

The glaze was warmer and smoother, the painting finer; each set included a complete range of vessels: tea wares, wine wares, and tableware.

Li Ping'an picked up a teacup and held it to the light from the window.

Its walls were as thin as paper, the glaze like jade, and the bottom bore the faint characters "Li Ling."

"These… are you selling them all?"

"Selling," the old man sighed, "my son is going abroad and needs money. Keeping these things is just keeping them; better to exchange them for something tangible."

"Name your price."

"One set… a thousand?"

"I'll take them all," Li Ping'an said, "five sets, five thousand. Adding the ten pieces from before, that's eight thousand total. Cash, I can pay right now."

The old man widened his eyes.

Eight thousand yuan in 1985 could buy a small apartment in Beijing.

"You… you aren't bargaining?"

"No bargaining," Li Ping'an took out money from his bag, "because these items are worth that price."

Leaving the courtyard compound, Li Ping'an did not return to Shigu Study.

He went to the post office.

It wasn't just one; he went door to door. East Single Gate Post Office, West Single Gate Post Office, Wangfujing Post Office, Front Gate Post Office…

At each, he asked, "Do you have monkey stamps? Complete sheets."

Monkey stamps are zodiac stamps issued in 1980, face value eight cents. It's just been a year since they were released; they are still on the market, but complete sheets are hard to find.

"Comrade, why do you want monkey stamps?" the postal worker asked curiously.

"Collecting," Li Ping'an said, "I like monkeys."

The excuse was flimsy, but the money was real.

One place, two places, three places…

He ran around all afternoon, buying fifty complete sheets of monkey stamps, plus several dozen loose stamps.

When he returned to Houhai Siheyuan, night had already fallen.

Lin Xueqing was cooking, and upon seeing him return with a bunch of stamps, she was both exasperated and amused.

"Ping'an, why are you buying so many stamps? We don't even need to send letters."

"Collecting," Li Ping'an carefully stored the stamps, "in a few years you'll understand."

He recalled a news story from his past life where a single sheet of monkey stamps fetched a million‑dollar price.

Now, he had twelve sheets in his hand.

And fifteen sets of celadon porcelain.

These items will one day be worth more than gold.

At night, Li Ping'an sat in his study.

Three documents were spread out before him.

A real estate company's master plan, a security company's training syllabus, and a foreign trade company's Soviet trade route map.

The phone rang.

It was Li Yaozong calling from Shenzhen.

"Dad, the foundation of the industrial park is ready; next month we can start building factories. He Xiao said the automobile production line needs a few technicians from Japan."

"Transfer them," Li Ping'an said, "ensure the wages are sufficient; don't shortchange them."

"Also, the people Wang Dahu brought have arrived and are training. Everyone is skilled; with them, site safety is assured."

"Good."

He hung up and walked to the window.

The night at Houhai was quiet, the water surface reflecting the moonlight, glittering.

In the distance, the lights of Beiping City glittered brilliantly.

He knew his scheme had already unfolded.

Real estate, security, foreign trade, plus the earlier antiques and catering, as well as the Shenzhen industrial park and the Hong Kong investment company.

A vast net was quietly being spread.

And the center of the net is this siheyuan, is this black telephone, is his pair of eyes that have seen the future.

Li Ping'an lifted the teacup and took a sip of tea.

The tea was sent by Shen Wenyuan, pre‑Qingming Longjing Tea Tea, with a fresh and lingering fragrance.

Like this era, and like the path he is walking.

Lingering, yet full of hope.