Chapter 41: A Good Beginning

“Clap clap clap!” Zhou Andong clapped his hands, “Everyone, quiet down—how many of you are there?”

“We’re twenty-nine in total,” the young man called out again.

Zhou Andong said to the manager, “I’ll take them to Finance to pay. You handle the outbound registration and arrange a vehicle to deliver the liquor to the station.”

“Yes, yes!” The manager’s attitude toward Zhou Andong shifted completely—he became overly polite, suppressed his excitement, carried the 145 cases of liquor to the entrance, completed the outbound registration, then rushed back to Logistics.

“Old Zhao, what’s the rush?”

“Old Liu!” Manager Zhao gasped for breath, “The liquor’s sold—I’m going to find someone to load it onto a truck and take it to the station.”

Old Lai, with a scruffy beard and a bulbous nose stained by alcohol, could be smelled from afar—his whole body reeked of liquor.

“Really sold?” Old Liu sounded astonished. “Thirty-two yuan per bottle? There are really fools buying this?”

“What kind of talk is that?” Zhao frowned. “It’s sold—do you mean to imply you’re unhappy about it?”

“No, no!” Old Liu waved his hands quickly. “I just can’t understand it. Da Gaoliang used to cost 4.3 yuan per bottle, and no one bought it. Now it’s the same liquor, just new packaging and a new name, and suddenly they’re paying thirty-two? Isn’t that strange?”

Zhao snorted. “What’s strange about it? If Secretary Gu dares to do this, he knows exactly what he’s doing.”

Old Liu bristled. “Old Zhao, I’ve noticed you’re really a piece of work. When we first heard Secretary Gu was pushing reforms and needed big investments, you were the loudest one cursing—said the money should’ve gone to pay salaries for the New Year.”

Zhao’s face darkened. He swung his arm away. “I’m not wasting time with you—I’ve got work to do.”

The atmosphere in Finance was strange—only the rapid clatter of abacus beads broke the silence.

Zhou Andong sat on a chair, a cigarette dangling from his lips. The individual vendors stood to one side, while the Finance staff—whether knitting, reading newspapers, or cracking sunflower seeds—all stared up at the accountant He Xiaoling as she worked the abacus.

“Done!” He Xiaoling shoved the abacus aside. “Sealed Imperial Tribute: 165 yuan per bottle, six bottles per case, 990 yuan per case. Unsealed Imperial Tribute: 32 yuan per bottle, six bottles per case, four cases total 768 yuan. Grand total: 1,758 yuan.”

The other Finance staff drew in sharp breaths, counted the buyers, did quick mental math—one woman’s hand trembled, spilling a handful of sunflower seeds onto the floor.

One hundred forty-five cases, eight hundred seventy bottles—sold. In the past, at 4.3 yuan per bottle, 870 bottles totaled less than four thousand yuan. Now, with new packaging and a new name, they’d actually sold at a premium. It stunned them.

Then they remembered: yesterday, Secretary Gu had announced at the meeting that if the liquor sold, not only would salaries be backpaid, but everyone would get a 60-yuan raise. Now it looked real—they all suddenly grew excited.

“I’ll go first!” Jiang Aimin pulled a stack of cash from his bag and counted out 1,760 yuan.

He Xiaoling frowned. “Keep your own change—I don’t have any.”

“I’ll waive the two yuan,” Jiang Aimin said—he was infamous for being stingy, squeezing water from a penny—but today, unusually generous, he gave up two yuan.

Jiang Aimin rounded up. Others with loose change felt too embarrassed to pull theirs out. One by one, they paid, took their receipts, and left Finance.

Zhou Andong stood on the steps outside, took one last drag, flicked the cigarette butt with his finger—it shot into the sky with a spark, then vanished in the wind.

“Alright, I won’t see you off.”

The young man asked, “Can we just go straight to the warehouse to pick up the goods?”

All these people were individual vendors, mostly buying from secondary or tertiary wholesalers—this was their first time coming directly to the manufacturer. They’d brought plenty of cash, terrified of making the trip for nothing.

Zhou Andong said, “The receipt has two copies—one keep for yourself, one give to the manager. I’ve already told him to arrange a vehicle. Whether you’re taking the train or bus, just tell the driver.”

Inside Finance, everyone was buzzing with excitement.

“Enough noise—what’s this, a market?” He Xiaoling rechecked the receipts, her face grim. She snapped, stood up, and walked to Section Chief Liu Jian’s office.

“Pfft!” The woman spat her sunflower seed husk on the floor, sneering. “A piece of trash—if she hadn’t climbed into Liu Jian’s bed, she’d be nothing.”

“Enough, enough, stop talking,” a middle-aged man said. “Anyway, today’s a good start—it’s given us confidence.”

Liu Jian was reading a novel, didn’t look up when he heard a knock. “Come in!”

He Xiaoling pushed the door open. “Section Chief.”

Liu Jian looked up, saw He Xiaoling—and a flame ignited in his lower abdomen. He circled his desk, grabbed her, and kissed her.

Though He Xiaoling was forty, her figure was full, she dressed well, and she radiated unmistakable femininity.

“Oh, stop it!”

He Xiaoling loved the feeling of men being obsessed with her. Unconsciously, a smug smile curled her lips as she pushed Liu Jian away, half-resisting.

“I need to talk to you urgently.”

Liu Jian kissed her cheek. “What is it?”

He Xiaoling handed him the receipt. “Take a look.”

Liu Jian glanced at it—his face changed. “What’s this?”

He Xiaoling said, “I don’t know. Zhou Andong suddenly showed up with people saying they wanted to buy liquor. I couldn’t refuse—if word got out, the factory workers would tear me apart.”

“Damn it!” Liu Jian turned and stormed out. “I’m going to see the factory director. I’ll wait for you at the usual place tonight.”

He Xiaoling said, “Not today.”

Liu Jian stopped. “Why not?”

He Xiaoling said, “My husband’s back.”

“Fucking bad luck!” Liu Jian cursed, ran up three flights of stairs, and knocked on Zhang Deyou’s office door.

“Director, something’s happened.”

Zhang Deyou frowned. “What’s the hurry?”

Liu Jian caught his breath and placed the receipt on Zhang Deyou’s desk. “Zhou Andong suddenly brought a group to Finance to pay—sold 145 cases, a lot.”

Zhang Deyou’s heart sank. He examined the receipt again and again. “That’s odd—wasn’t it 32 yuan per bottle? Why is there a 165-yuan price?”

Liu Jian said, “Zhou Andong created a sealed version—just a seal sticker on the box. That one sells for more.”

“Bang!”

Zhang Deyou slammed his palm hard on the desk, startling Liu Jian.

“Nonsense!” Zhang Deyou’s face turned ashen. “Thirty-two yuan per bottle is already too high—stick a piece of paper on it and charge 165? What’s he trying to do? If he keeps this reckless nonsense, who’s going to take responsibility when things go wrong?”