Chapter 430: Wanshang Community

In the spring of 1983 in Beiping City, willow catkins began to drift.

The scene was white as if a gentle snow were falling, sticking to pedestrians' hair and clothes, and to the newly budded phoenix tree leaves. The moat water turned green, reflecting the weeping willows on the bank and the silhouettes of a row of brand‑new buildings along the river.

It was the first residential community built by Wanshang Real Estate—Wanshang Garden.

Fifteen six‑story buildings, with white walls and red tiles, were neatly arranged. The spacing between buildings was wide; there were lawns, flowerbeds, and also pavilions, covered walkways, and a children's playground.

At the entrance of the community there was a reception office and a flowerbed, where newly planted roses had already formed buds.

In Beijing in '83, this was the first of its kind.

There were no tube‑shaped apartments, no large communal courtyards, no shared water taps or public toilets. Every household had its own kitchen, bathroom, balcony, and south‑facing windows.

More importantly, the community had supporting facilities—a kindergarten, a small shop, a medical room, and an activity center equipped with a ping‑pong table, a Chinese chess board, and a television. The basketball court was cement, marked with white lines, and the backboards were freshly painted.

The news spread like a spring breeze, reaching all of Four Nine City overnight.

The sales office of Wanshang Garden was set up in a row of bungalows at the main gate of the community.

The walls were red brick, the windows large glass panes, and a sign reading "Sales Center" hung on the door. Inside stood a sand table, its miniature buildings, roads, and landscaping so delicate they looked like toys.

On the wall were floor‑plan charts—two‑bedroom one‑living‑room, three‑bedroom one‑living‑room, four‑bedroom two‑living‑room—various sizes, each marked with area and price.

On the first day of opening, before dawn, a line had already formed at the entrance.

They were not young people, mostly middle‑aged and older. Wearing Zhongshan suits and Liberation caps, they clutched cloth bags that held house deeds, household registration books, bank passbooks, and the money saved over half a lifetime.

Li Ping'an stood in the second‑floor office of the sales center, looking down through the window.

The black‑mass crowd, like a tide, surged forward, then receded a bit, forming a long line in front of the cordoned area set up by the staff.

Some stood on tiptoe to peer inside, some whispered to each other, some wore faces full of anxiety.

"Director Li, there are too many people," said the sales office manager, a capable woman in her thirties named Sun Lijuan, wiping sweat as she entered. "At this rate, the five hundred sets of materials prepared for today won't be enough."

"Print more," Li Ping'an said. "Also, have the security keep order. For the older folks, arrange seats for them to wait. Prepare some hot water."

"Understood."

Sun Lijuan hurried back downstairs.

Inside the sales office, the atmosphere was as lively as the New Year.

"Comrade, take a look at mine!" a gray‑haired old man, trembling, fished a yellowed house deed from his cloth bag. "I have a bungalow in Gulou, twelve square meters. How big a unit can I exchange it for?"

The staff took the deed and examined it carefully.

"Sir, your house is inside the Second Ring, a good location. According to our 'old‑for‑new' policy, you can exchange it for a two‑bedroom one‑living‑room unit in Wanshang Garden, fifty‑six square meters. However, you'll need to pay the price difference, eighty yuan per square meter."

The staff rattled away on the abacus, clack‑clack.

"You need to pay… two thousand two hundred forty yuan."

The old man's hand trembled.

"How much… more?"

"Two thousand two hundred four," the staff explained patiently. "We appraise your bungalow at two thousand two hundred yuan. The total price of the new house is six thousand seven hundred two yuan; after deducting the old house payment, that's the amount you need to make up."

The old man counted on his fingers.

He had retired from a street factory, receiving a pension of forty‑two yuan a month. Over two thousand yuan represented four or five years of his pension.

But looking at those floor‑plan charts on the wall, at the beautiful miniature buildings in the sand table, and imagining never having to queue for public toilets again, never having to light a stove in winter…

"I… I'll exchange!" the old man gritted his teeth. "My son works in Shenzhen and sends money back!"

Many residents of Siheyuan No. 95 showed up.

Liu Haizhong stood with his hands behind his back, pacing three circles around the sand table.

"Can people actually live in these units?" he asked the man beside him, Yan Bu Gui.

"Why not?" Yan Bu Gui adjusted his glasses. "Look at this layout: it's north‑south ventilated, the living room faces the sun. The bathroom is inside the unit—so convenient. These used to be commercial apartments only for cadres; now we have a chance to live in them too."

"What about the houses in our courtyard…"

"I've looked into it," Yan Bu Gui lowered his voice. "My two side rooms can be exchanged for a three‑bedroom one‑living‑room unit. Just pay a little over a thousand yuan in difference. I've done the math; selling the houses and adding the savings over the years is enough."

Liu Haizhong fell silent.

He watched the miniature buildings in the sand table, feeling a mixture of emotions. He had lived in a Siheyuan for most of his life, accustomed to blue‑brick gray‑tile roofs, to the old locust tree in the courtyard, to cooling off at the doorway in summer and warming by the fire inside in winter.

But his sons had already said—Liu Guangtian had married and was cramped with his mother‑in‑law in two bungalows. Liu Guangfu fared worse, still living in a work unit dormitory. They all wanted an apartment.

"Old Liu, the times are changing," Yan Bu Gui patted his shoulder. "Living in an apartment is the trend."

Just then, Jia Zhangshi entered, pulling Bang Geng along.

"Comrade, how big a unit can we exchange our west side room for?"

The staff glanced at the deed—No. 95 Nanluoguxiang, one west side room, totaling forty square meters.

"Madam, you can exchange it for a three‑bedroom one‑living‑room unit, seventy‑eight square meters. The price difference… three thousand six hundred yuan."

Jia Zhangshi's eyes widened like copper bells.

"Three thousand six hundred? That's extortion!"

"Grandma," Bang Geng held her, "let's calculate: we have that one house—I'll take one, you and Mother each take one. Fortunately Xiao Dang and Huaihua are married, otherwise there wouldn't be enough space. If we exchange the house for a new one, when I get married and have children, we'll have a place to live!"

Qin Huairu, following behind, whispered softly, "Mom, Bang Geng is right. Moreover, the apartments have heating and bathrooms; at your age you'll live comfortably."

Jia Zhangshi looked at the sand table, at the beautiful models, then at the yellowed deed in her hand, and, for the sake of her grandson being able to marry, gritted her teeth and resolved to exchange.

She stamped her foot.

"Exchange!"

That night, Houhai Siheyuan.

Li Ping'an's family ate dinner.

On the television a news program was playing, followed by a commercial—for Wanshang Garden. The footage showed beautiful apartments, a tree‑shaded community, children playing in the playground, and elderly people…

"Dad, our community is selling like crazy today," Li Yaoyang said between bites. "Our classmate Wang Xiaojun's father exchanged two bungalows in Dongsi for a three‑bedroom unit, paying a little over two thousand yuan in the difference."

Lin Xueqing served a dish to her son, "Eat slowly. Your father knows."

Li Ping'an indeed knows.

Today, Wanshang Garden sold three hundred twenty units. Seventy percent of them were "exchange old for new"—using old flat houses and Siheyuan inside the Second Ring as replacements.

That means he reclaimed three hundred twenty properties inside the Second Ring.

Those dilapidated flat houses, those crowded large courtyards, those Siheyuan that now seem worthless.

He knows that in twenty years, every inch of those places will be gold.

"Ping'an," Lin Xueqing said, "the supermarket side is also crazy busy. The Dongdan store's shelves are empty in half a day. Especially refrigerators and televisions, many people line up to buy."

The Wanshang Supermarket, located at the Dongdan intersection, has three floors, ten thousand square meters.

This is Beijing's first true large‑scale supermarket—not a department store, but a supermarket. Customers push carts, pick items themselves, and pay at the exit.

On opening day, there were seas of people.

Many people weren't there to buy anything; they came to see the novelty—look at the shelves stacked like walls, the refrigerators and freezers flashing cold light, the staff in uniform.

But seeing makes them want to buy.

Imported chocolate, Shanghai White Rabbit, Guangdong biscuits, Tianjin Ma Hua… and the hottest appliances—Snowflake brand refrigerator, Peony brand television, shipped one by one from the south, snapped up instantly.

"Supply cannot meet demand," Li Ping'an put down his chopsticks, "we must expand the scale."

"How to expand?"

"Beijing, open one in each district. From the Second Ring to the Sixth Ring." Li Ping'an said, "Then Tianjin, Shanghai, Shenzhen, Guangzhou… all major cities must have Wanshang Supermarket."

Li Nuanqing interjected, "Dad, how much would that cost?"

"Money isn't the problem," Li Ping'an said, "the problem is people—management talent, logistics system, supply chain… those are the fundamentals."

The Telephone rang.

It was Chen Jianghe calling from Guangzhou.

"Brother, over in the Soviet Union… the situation isn't right."

Chen Jianghe's voice came through the line with static and a hint of unmistakable tension.

"Take your time."

"I went to Moscow again last month," Chen Jianghe said, "the stores were completely empty, truly empty, the shelves only had dust. Ordinary people queued for bread, a line lasted four to five hours. I saw with my own eyes people fighting over half a sausage."

Li Ping'an walked to the map.

On the wall hung a world map; the Soviet part was circled with a red pen. Next to it were several photos—Moscow Red Square, Lenin Mausoleum, and a dilapidated factory.

"What about the army?" he asked.

"Worse," Chen Jianghe said, "Yi Wan Nuo told me their division hasn't paid wages for three months. Soldiers' meals went from three meals a day to two, meat is seen only once a month. Many officers are secretly selling things—military coats, leather boots, even… weapons."

There was a silence on the line for a while.

"Brother, I think… the Soviet Union is about to have a big incident."

Li Ping'an said nothing.

He stared at the massive red shape on the map.

He knew Chen Jianghe was right. But he also knew this was not a bad thing.

Crisis, crisis, opportunity within crisis.

"Jianghe," he began, "prepare, next month we'll go to the Soviet Union."

"Go to the Soviet Union?"

"Yes." Li Ping'an said, "to Moscow, to Kyiv, to Leningrad. See with our own eyes what actually happened."

"But…"

"No 'but.'" Li Ping'an said, "Arrange to find Yi Wan Nuo, have him ensure our safety. Also, prepare a batch of goods—light industrial products, white flour, medicines, the more the better."

"Why bring so many things?"

"Clear the way." Li Ping'an said, "What the Soviet Union lacks most now are these items. We send them, and what we get back will be more valuable."

The next day, Wanshang Real Estate's conference room.

Li Ping'an summoned all the company's senior executives.

"The Wanshang Garden model must be replicated quickly." He pointed at the Beijing map on the wall, "Inside the Second Ring, Third Ring, Fourth Ring… every area must have our projects. Layouts can be diversified—small units for young people, large units for upgrading families."

He circled several locations.

"These places, focus on acquiring land. Especially those old factories, warehouses, shantytowns. Prices can be set high, but the process must be fast."

The project manager raised his hand: "General Li, will the funding pressure be too great?"

"Use bank loans." Li Ping'an said, "Mortgage existing projects, borrow money, acquire new land. Rolling development, the bigger the better."

He paused.

"Additionally, the 'exchange old for new' policy must continue. Focus on acquiring Siheyuan and flat houses inside the Second Ring. Especially those well‑preserved Siheyuan, prices can increase by twenty percent."

Someone asked in confusion: "General Li, those old houses, broken and shabby, why acquire them?"

"Later you'll understand." Li Ping'an gave no further explanation, "Proceed."

At the same time, inside the Wanshang Supermarket warehouse, it was as busy as a battlefield.

Trucks rolled in one after another, unloading. Home appliances, food, daily necessities piled like mountains. Workers pushed forklifts, sorting and neatly stacking the goods.

The warehouse manager was a veteran named Zhao Tie Zhu, formerly a soldier under Wang Dahu. He held an Intercom, his voice booming.

"Warehouse No. 3, bring in fifty more refrigerators!"

"Food area, restock biscuits!"

"Load outbound trucks, ship to Tianjin!"

Tianjin's first Wanshang Supermarket will open next month. Stock must be prepared in advance.

When Li Ping'an entered the warehouse, Zhao Tie Zhu was scolding—a young worker had accidentally dropped a case of canned goods while moving.

"What are you eating! This is all money!"

"Manager Zhao." Li Ping'an called out to him.

Zhao Tie Zhu hurried over: "President Li, why are you here?"

"Just looking." Li Ping'an said, eyeing the bustling warehouse. "How's the preparation over in Tianjin?"

"Everything's set!" Zhao Tie Zhu said. "The shop renovation is done, staff training is finished, and the goods start shipping today. We'll guarantee opening on the eighth of next month, on time!"

"Good." Li Ping'an patted his shoulder. "Tianjin is the pilot. Once successful, Shanghai, Guangzhou, Shenzhen will open one after another."

He walked to the warehouse doorway and looked at the trucks parked outside.

The side of the vehicle bore the four bold characters "Wanshang Logistics."

This is Wang Dahu's fleet, now comprising fifty trucks, operating day and night, transporting southern goods to the north and eastern goods to the west.

Logistics are the supermarket's arteries.

When the arteries flow freely, the supermarket can survive.

One month later, Beijing Railway Station.

Li Ping'an and Chen Jianghe, along with a security detail for the cargo, boarded the international train bound for Moscow.

A green‑painted carriage, private compartment, frost clinging to the windows. Inside, the heating was full blast, mixing the scents of leather, tobacco, and the distinctive body odor of Russians.

The train slowly set off, pulling away from the platform.

Chen Jianghe looked a little nervous.

"Brother, this trip… could it be dangerous?"

"With Ivanov there, it shouldn't be," Li Ping'an said. "Besides, we're going with sincere intentions."

He pointed to the suitcase on the luggage rack.

Inside were samples—Jeans, shirts, white liquor, canned goods, flour, and basic medicines such as aspirin and penicillin. They were the items most scarce in the Soviet Union now.

The train crossed the North China Plain, the Mongolian steppe, and the Siberian forest.

Outside the window lay an endless white snowfield. Occasionally a small village appeared—low wooden houses with chimneys puffing black smoke. Soldiers stood guard beside the tracks, clad in heavy greatcoats, their faces frozen bright red.

After five days and five nights, the train entered Moscow Yaroslavl Station.

Moscow's winter was bone‑chilling.

The air cut like a knife against the face. Snow lay deep on the streets, crunching underfoot. Pedestrians wrapped in heavy winter coats kept their heads down, hurrying by. Long queues formed at shop doors; people waited in silence, their faces turning a frosty blue.

Ivanov waited for them on the platform.

He wore an old military greatcoat, but his leather shoes were polished to a shine. Two men in their forties followed him, eyes sharp, standing upright.

"Mr. Chen, welcome," Ivanov said in Russian, with a translator beside him.

"This is Mr. Li Ping'an," Chen Jianghe introduced.

Ivanov gave Li Ping'an a glance and extended his hand.

The hand was cold, yet strong.

"Mr. Li, we greatly need your cargo."

"The goods are on the train," Li Ping'an said. "Shall we talk first?"

"First talk," Ivanov nodded. "Come to my place."

Ivanov's "office" was in a villa on the outskirts of Moscow.

The villa was old but spacious. A fire burned in the fireplace, keeping the interior warm, though the furnishings were simple; the sofa's leather was torn, exposing the sponge inside.

"The conditions are modest," Ivanov poured three glasses of vodka. "Please."

The liquor was strong; one sip burned from the throat down to the stomach.

"Mr. Li, what do you want?" Ivanov asked bluntly.

"Technology," Li Ping'an set down his glass. "Heavy‑industry tech, military‑to‑civilian tech, and… talent."

"Be more specific."

"Steelmaking, automobiles, ships, aviation," Li Ping'an said. "Blueprints, equipment, engineers—I want them all."

Ivanov was silent for a moment.

"These items… are very sensitive."

"That's why I came to you," Li Ping'an said. "You have connections, I have money. Let's cooperate."

"Money?" Ivanov laughed, a bitter laugh. "Rubles are now worthless paper. We need US dollars, gold, and tangible assets."

"I've brought it," Li Ping'an gestured to Chen Jianghe.

Chen Jianghe opened the leather suitcase he carried.

Inside was cash in US dollars.

In the dim light it glittered with an alluring shine.

Ivanov's eyes lit up.

The two men behind him breathed more heavily.

"This is a Deposit," Li Ping'an said. "If the deal succeeds, tenfold."

The room was so quiet one could hear the crackle of the firewood in the fireplace.

Outside, Moscow night was pitch‑black and cold.

Yet inside, a transaction was being concluded.

Li Ping'an knew that from this moment, his scheme in the Soviet Union would enter a new phase.

And all this had only just begun.