Chapter 111: A Coincidental Opportunity

At the carriage junction, there were few people; listening to the clack‑clack of the iron rail outside, Lu Cheng took out a cigarette and handed it to the other person.

"Thank you."

The middle‑aged man, named Li Minghao, politely took the cigarette; the lighter he used to light it was an iron‑made French‑style wide‑band "Dunhill" lighter.

Lu Cheng had a feeling that the man in front of him was far from ordinary; even just this box of Magnetic Tape wasn't something an average person could obtain.

He declined the lighter offered, and Lu Cheng flicked the match in his hand: "Where are you from?"

"Guangcheng."

Lu Cheng exhaled a puff of smoke directly onto the man's face: "Be more specific."

"Close to the port; you can swim over."

Lu Cheng nodded: "You are indeed frank, so you know this box of Magnetic Tape is contraband, yet you still dare give it to me—aren't you afraid I might arrest you right now?"

Li Minghao smiled: "Group Leader Lu, no need to be so tense; I bought this box of Magnetic Tape on the way from the Guangcheng black market when I arrived."

Lu Cheng glanced: "You are indeed clever, knowing how to phrase it to shirk responsibility."

Li Minghao's mouth curled in a smile: "Group Leader Lu is the clever one; when you interrogated those two swindlers earlier, even I didn't expect you could use that method."

Lu Cheng fell silent, and Li Minghao also said nothing; the two merely stared at the scenery receding outside the window, smoking.

After finishing a cigarette, Lu Cheng dropped the butt, stamped it out, and finally said: "Speak up—what do you want by contacting me?"

Sending a box of smuggled Magnetic Tape for no reason clearly tests the limit.

Li Minghao was not at all surprised by Lu Cheng seeing through his motive.

"Group Leader Lu truly is clever and also a straightforward person; to be frank, I want to cooperate with you."

Lu Cheng turned his face, wearing disdain: "Cooperate with me? You've got the wrong person. I do like using unorthodox methods, but I can still keep the line of breaking the law."

Li Minghao, smiling, said: "Group Leader Lu, don't phrase it so absolutely; although the timing now is off, it doesn't mean we can't get into the right time later."

No wonder, living around the island port, this mindset is different.

Lu Cheng patted his chest: "A word of advice—don't end up in my hands; I won't spare any feelings. And this box of Magnetic Tape, confiscated!"

Watching Lu Cheng's departing back, Li Minghao shouted: "Then, Group Leader Lu, could you look after two people for me—meaning in a humanitarian way that doesn't break regulations…"

Two days ago, I had two friends who were arrested for selling some gloves, hats, and a few pairs of shoes, deemed Speculative Profiteering, and were locked up in your Railway Bureau; I couldn't see them on this trip to the Capital City.

"What do you mean? You want me to rescue them?"

Li Minghao waved his hand: "No, no, I just hope Group Leader Lu can, when they are released, give them this money so they can afford a ride home."

Li Minghao produced the cash; seeing Lu Cheng not take it, he said: "Group Leader Lu, rest assured, this money is clean."

Lu Cheng merely glanced, then turned and left, leaving Li Minghao sighing.

Li Minghao didn't get angry either; after all, Lu Cheng had no obligation to help him, nor any reason to deal with someone like him.

As Lu Cheng was about to return to the Bunk Car, Jiang Mengmeng suddenly jumped out, reaching out to stop him.

"Group Leader Lu, give me the Magnetic Tape, will you?"

Lu Cheng waved the tape; to him, he had grown tired of it in his previous life, but for Jiang Mengmeng, who already loved a modest‑budget vibe, the tape was a treasure.

"Is this decadent music? Aren't you afraid I'll get you arrested?"

"I'm not listening on the train; I'll take it home and listen in secret."

Jiang Mengmeng reached to snatch it, but Lu Cheng lifted it too high for her to reach.

"If you want it, that's fine; I'm a bit tired, so why don't you give me a shoulder massage?"

"Ah, that's not really appropriate, is it?"

"Just a shoulder massage, and I won't let you do anything else; go to your Broadcast Room, the passengers won't see."

Jiang Mengmeng hesitated, ultimately unable to resist the tape's lure: "Fine, I'll give you a shoulder massage if you give me this box of Magnetic Tape, no backing out."

In the tiny Broadcast Room, Lu Cheng relaxed solidly; having someone knead his shoulders and back felt good.

It was already hard traveling with the car; from now on I have to keep Jiang Mengmeng under control—she loves hearing gossip, so next time I'm tired, I'll tell her about those two swindlers, the brother‑in‑law and sister‑in‑law affair; Jiang Mengmeng will definitely be interested.

That gives me another chance for a shoulder‑and‑back massage.

Back in the Bunk Car, Lu Cheng lay on the small bed, his mind filled with Li Minghao.

People like that are only selling a few daily necessities to make a living; Lu Cheng, who came from his previous life, holds no strong prejudice—just the current policy restrictions.

And once Reform and Opening Up arrives, such people will spread their wings like a great roc, instantly becoming those who stand at the windward edge.

I hope there will be a chance to meet again; Lu Cheng also believes there definitely will be.

But unexpectedly, after this car‑accompanying trip ended, the opportunity arrived.

This time the car duty was relatively swift; five days later we returned to the Capital City.

Lu Cheng came home in the evening carrying a sack of dirty clothes; his mother was cooking, his father lounged in a chair reading the Newspaper, neighbors came and went, the sunset bathed the courtyard—a scene of gentle tranquility.

No wonder Lin Qingyan said living here has a homely, lively atmosphere.

Lu Cheng kicked open the Xi Er Fang door, casually tossed the sack of dirty clothes into Lu Ying's arms, then flopped onto the bed.

"Sister, wash the clothes for me."

Lu Ying said nothing, walked to the door, and threw her satchel out.

"Quickly get up; you're all filthy, don't lie on my bed."

Lu Cheng sat upright: "Comrade Lu Ying, watch your attitude!"

"Tsk, you still want me to serve you? I've already started working at the Tea Stall."

"Alright, Lu Ying, I've seen through your face; I use people forward, not backward."

Seeing the brother and sister bicker again, Lin Qingyan laughed nearby and said: "Okay, you two, Lu Cheng, put your clothes there first; later I'll wash them for you."

"If I don't wash them for him, don't mind him; let's keep watching."

Two graceful silhouettes leaned over the desk, studying something.

Lu Cheng asked curiously: "You two sit with your backs arched like oil cans—what are you looking at?"

Hearing Lu Cheng's teasing, Lin Qingyan hurriedly straightened up, while only Lu Ying didn't care about her image at all.

"Researching poetry, huh? You still don't get it! Hey Qing Yan, look how well this line is written—chopping wood and feeding horses, it's basically my ideal life."

Lin Qingyan lightly nodded: "Hmm, I prefer the last line, facing the sea, spring blossoms, so atmospheric."

Lu Cheng interjected: "Sis, didn't you say you weren't going to the Poetry Association anymore?"

Lu Ying didn't turn her head, casually said: "I didn't go, but I never said I don't like poetry; poetry is my soul, I can't abandon it. Hey Qing Yan, why do you think this poem is written so well?"

"Don't look, that's my writing!"

Hearing Lu Cheng's words, Lu Ying slowly turned her head, her eyes seemed to roll up to the sky.

"You wrote it? No way, it's from a dung‑remover. Look, his work environment is dirty, but his soul is clean. Look at you, all dressed pretentiously, you only write crappy poems."

Lu Cheng, having been teased by his sister all his life, felt nothing at all.

"Fine, fine, I'm an eyesore, okay? Then give me a Bath Ticket, I'm going to take a bath."

"Here, here, here, you stink to death."

Lu Ying flipped open the ticket holder, just about to hand it over, then remembered: "By the way Lu Cheng, the weather's getting colder, right? I suggested to Uncle Zhao Bin that maybe we could sell some cotton shoes and hats; they'd sell well."

"But when I went to those state‑run factories that make cotton hats, they all thought the Tea Stall too small and refused to supply. Do you know anyone?"

Lu Cheng nodded. I must say, sister really has a knack for business; ever since that poet broke her heart last time, that business knack instantly awakened.

Unfortunately, the awakening came a bit early; in this era, individuals can't do business—everything emphasizes a nationwide unified board, all serving the collective.