Chapter 47: Chapter Forty-Seven: A Warning

“Stop chopping! Stop chopping!... Oh no... Li Ye, have you ever cooked before?”

In the small storage room behind the Second Grain Store, Li Ye swung a thick-backed cleaver, hacking violently at the half-slab of ribs with a steady “crack-crack-crack.”

Outside, it was freezing cold; Jin Peng and the others had bought the ribs from a rural market, and they’d frozen solid on the journey—yet even Li Ye, who boasted of being a “fist expert,” found it hard to chop through them.

And perhaps because the knife wasn’t sharp enough, or perhaps because Li Ye swung too slowly, after his wild, wind-sweeping slashes, many meat fragments flew off the blade and landed on the ground.

Not only did Jiang Xiaoyan feel heartbroken, but Hu Man and the others also muttered complaints about Li Ye’s wastefulness.

But it wasn’t really Li Ye’s fault.

Originally, Jiang Xiaoyan had been assigned to cook, and she was quick-handed—no one else was supposed to touch the rib-chopping task.

To respect her pride, Li Ye had deliberately sent everyone else to set tables and arrange chairs, planning to stay out of it entirely.

But when he saw Jiang Xiaoyan chop a whole bowl of radishes yet only cut three or four taels of ribs to go with them, Li Ye couldn’t take it anymore.

Why had Li Ye asked Jin Peng and the others to buy groceries and cook for themselves?

Was it really because the canteen meal service took too long?

Bullshit—it was just because he was hungry.

Since his arrival in this era, Li Ye had grown to despise the cooking habits of everyone around him.

Canteen meals cost a few fen per serving, with barely a drop of oil to be seen; a meat dish cost twelve fen, barely enough to qualify as meat.

Even when he returned home occasionally, and his grandmother would say, “My eldest grandson’s back! Let’s make something special today,” it only meant a few extra slices of fat in his bowl.

This was still Li Ye’s family—back then, if a household didn’t have a wage earner, measuring oil with chopsticks was nothing unusual. (My father experienced this: Grandma would dip a chopstick into the oil bottle, flick the oil off into the wok, then start stir-frying.)

So even though Li Ye ate three dishes a day, his soul-deep Chinese foodie genes had already raised banners and protested a hundred times over.

Before, there was no way; now that there’s a way, why still suffer?

By the end of 1981, private meat vendors were already selling meat at rural markets; a few days ago, Li Ye told Hao Jian and Jin Peng that while selling candy in the provincial capital, they should stop by the market and stock up—chicken, duck, fish, meat, anything they could find.

It was winter anyway, a natural refrigerator—food wouldn’t spoil for days; with several markets within ten li, as long as you had money, food was never lacking.

If food wasn’t lacking, why count out meat bits like pennies?

Besides, ribs weren’t worth as much as lean meat back then, and lean meat wasn’t worth as much as fat—only a few jiao per jin? What was there to save?

So Li Ye shooed Jiang Xiaoyan away, grabbed the cleaver himself, and chopped through two or three jin of ribs before finally stopping.

“From now on, cook according to this standard—one jiao per meal! We’ve got to make sure the guys know what real value means.”

Li Ye wouldn’t cook himself, but he’d direct the recipe.

“Blanch out the blood first, then fry in oil, add water and stew—simple...”

“Did you use your own oil? With so little oil, the ribs are burning! We can’t cheat people, right?”

“Good, good, add the spices, ready to serve.”

Li Ye guided Jiang Xiaoyan step by step, correcting every stingy habit, and when the big pot began bubbling, everyone gathered around, eyes wide, lips sealed, swallowing saliva.

You spent a whole jiao on a special meal, and this is what you give us?

Engengeng, Li Ye, you’re truly a good man.

Li Ye underestimated his classmates’ appetites—by the end of the pot of ribs stewed with radishes, only broth remained.

Hu Man, Han Xue, and even Jiang Xiaoyan—the girls—had at first hesitated, embarrassed to eat heartily.

But once the rich, fatty flavors burst on their tongues, even the most demure girls lost their composure, opening their mouths wide and wolfing down food like Jin Peng and Li Dayong.

Only Wen Leyu was different—she wasn’t shy, but her small mouth moved like a rabbit grazing, chewing rapidly, yet somehow maintaining an elegant grace.

Li Ye had already said the manuscript fee included her share as proofreader.

But she refused money, only asking for meals—every day since, Li Ye had brought her a portion from the canteen.

Slow and steady, sticking with Li Ye, she felt she’d earn more in the long run.

Li Ye stood and ate the last piece of radish, then went out for a walk with Hao Jian.

In the chilly night, two cigarette ends glowed faintly; after a long silence, Hao Jian finally spoke.

“Our shipment volume this past half-month has exceeded our estimates again. Do you think... something’s going to happen?”

Li Ye took a drag, tossed the half-smoked cigarette on the ground, and crushed it under his foot.

“What do you think will happen?”

Hao Jian stared at the crushed half of a “Da Qianmen” cigarette, felt a flicker of regret for a fraction of a second, then pulled a “newspaper brick” from his coat.

Wrapped tightly in newspaper, like a brick—it contained the cash Li Ye was due for this issue.

Hao Jian handed the money to Li Ye and said gravely: “We’re making too much money...”

“Pfft~”

Li Ye laughed, hefted the “brick,” and asked: “How much? Close to ten thousand yuan yet?”

Hao Jian nodded quietly: “Almost. Not this year, but next year for sure.”

Li Ye smiled again: “You read newspapers every day—tell me, is being a ten-thousand-yuan household illegal?”

In an era where average monthly wages were thirty to forty yuan, “ten-thousand-yuan household” was the absolute synonym for “ultra-rich.” A ten-thousand-yuan household might not match today’s “small goal” achievers, but it was equivalent to a millionaire.

But the first publicly reported ten-thousand-yuan household was in 1979; now it was 1981, and even melon seed peddlers had millions in assets—what was there to fear?

So Li Ye believed that by 1981, being a ten-thousand-yuan household no longer crossed any red lines—no reason to panic.

But Hao Jian stared at Li Ye and said slowly: “Ten-thousand-yuan households aren’t illegal... but what about a hundred-thousand-yuan household? A hundred-thousand-yuan household isn’t illegal... what about a million-yuan household?”

Li Ye was stunned, looking at the suddenly agitated Hao Jian, and reevaluated him.

When he first met Hao Jian, Li Ye had already held him in higher regard.

But Li Ye never imagined that in just a few days, this shrewd merchant had gained such courage and ambition.

In 1981, anyone who dared to dream of becoming a millionaire was either delusional or a genius.

The latter, if he didn’t fall, would inevitably become a major figure.

Li Ye pulled out a cigarette, thought about lighting it, then put it back in the pack.

Like an interviewer assessing a senior executive, he asked Hao Jian: “The candy business isn’t high-barrier—how do you expect to make so much?”

Hao Jian seemed prepared: “Yes. Maybe candy won’t make that much, but the distribution channel will—the one you mentioned.”

Li Ye smiled: “You finally understand what a ‘channel’ is?”

Hao Jian grew fully excited: “I’ve figured it out these past few days—those people who distribute our candy aren’t just selling candy; they can sell anything. We only need to give them a little support...

A few days ago in the provincial capital, I met some southerners who secretly sold clothes at night. They could sell, so can we—only they sell retail, we can do wholesale...”

Li Ye looked at Hao Jian and couldn’t help but admire this man with only a junior high education.

Though his grasp of “channel” was vague, his mind was sharp, and his commercial instinct was keen.

Previously, lack of capital had limited his actions; now, with capital growing steadily, his horizons had widened—and his ambition naturally swelled.

Hao Jian spoke at length before finally falling silent.

Li Ye nodded with a smile, approving: “Good. But don’t rush. Until the candy business hits a bottleneck, stick to developing retailers.”

Li Ye turned to leave, but Hao Jian called out urgently: “Li Ye, our business is growing—can I... meet your grandfather?”

“Hm?”

Li Ye slowly turned back, staring at the anxious Hao Jian, his face cold, no trace of a smile.

“I’ve already arranged your rural cooperative processing permit—still not enough?”

“No, no... I just have some things I’d like to report to Director Li...”

Hao Jian stepped back several paces before speaking.

He didn’t yet understand “presence,” but suddenly, he felt Li Ye’s “kindness and benevolence” had vanished, replaced by “coldness and sharpness.”

Li Ye was indeed angry.

Hao Jian didn’t want to “report” to his grandfather—he wanted to bind himself to the Li family, sharing risk.

As Hao Jian said, ten-thousand-yuan households, even hundred-thousand-yuan ones, were low-risk if kept quiet.

But a million-yuan household? Uncertain—Qinghe County was a closed northern small town, not an open southern land.

Even if the candy business was profitable, Li Ye wouldn’t allow Hao Jian, an outer protective shell, to deeply connect with his grandfather, Li Zhong.

Li Ye finally lit another cigarette, exhaled a thin wisp into the winter night, and asked Hao Jian: “What could a regular cooperative processing household possibly have to report to my grandfather?”

Hao Jian’s throat went dry; he swallowed hard: “We’re making too much money, and it’ll only grow more—I want to hear Director Li’s advice.”

“Hmph~”

【You’re just after a guarantee, aren’t you?】

Li Ye smiled, blew smoke, spat a wad of tobacco residue on the ground, then nodded toward the storage room behind the Second Grain Store.

“Fine, I understand. Go in. Get Jin Peng out, alone.”

“........”

Hao Jian’s feet were nailed to the ground—he didn’t move.

And in the freezing winter, sweat broke out on his forehead.

【What’s he doing? Why call Jin Peng out?... He’s replacing me. I knew it, I knew it...】

These past days, Jin Peng had accompanied Hao Jian to the provincial capital, delivering goods to street vendors—he never spoke much, but he knew every single vendor by name.

Now Li Ye wants Hao Jian to go in and summon Jin Peng out—why?

Hao Jian couldn’t risk it.

If he lost, his ten-thousand-yuan, hundred-thousand-yuan dreams... would vanish.

These past days, seeing money flow like water, he’d felt invincible.

But now, Li Ye’s single casual sentence had shattered him, made him understand what “all for nothing” meant.

Li Ye watched Hao Jian standing frozen, and grinned: “What’s wrong? Too cold out here? Afraid to go in?”

Hao Jian struggled and twisted, yet still burst out laughing.

“I’m not really afraid, but… I’ve got a wife and kids.”

Li Ye stared at Hao Jian in silence for a long time before saying, “Do you know about this year’s enterprise contracting documents issued by the higher-ups?”

Hao Jian’s mind raced quickly: “There’s something to that, but how does it relate to us…?”

Li Ye said, “It doesn’t now, but it might later. If you contract a small collective enterprise, won’t that solve everything?”

A cold sweat broke out all over Hao Jian’s body, and he instantly felt relieved.

【You little scoundrel, you had this planned all along—why didn’t you say anything?】

Contracting a small collective enterprise would still require Li family help; knowing he wasn’t about to be abandoned, Hao Jian finally relaxed.

Li Ye brought Hao Jian back to the backyard of the Second Grain Store, where Wen Leyu, Hu Man, and several other girls were feeding leftover bones to a dog.

But the huge yellow dog, despite the pile of bones, didn’t even look at them—only growled softly at the girls.

Li Ye asked, “What are you doing?”

Wen Leyu replied, “This dog’s so vicious—we wanted to give it something tasty, or it’ll keep biting us—but it won’t even eat the bones!”

“Damn.”

Li Ye muttered under his breath, “You girls picked those bones cleaner than any dog could—how’s it supposed to eat? Dogs have dignity too, you know?”

Behind Li Ye, Hao Jian nearly stumbled and fell.

Only now did he finally see clearly, as if waking from a dream.

The candy business he’d partnered with Li Ye on had a 60-40 profit split—he’d already gotten fat off it.

“I should be content. I should be content. Damn it, why wasn’t I content? What an idiot.”

Hao Jian was filled with regret—and yet, endless relief.