Chapter 76: I Won

Yangcheng is the terminus of the Beijing-Guangzhou railway, China’s major north-south artery, so around the railway there are many repair plants, supporting factories, and rolling stock depots.

These units are all large, with sprawling residential areas packed full of railway employees, their children, and family members.

These people see each other daily, and though they may not know each other’s ancestral lineage, any rumor or joke is guaranteed to spread across several compounds within days.

In these few days, several rural folks from the north have arrived in this residential area, selling sesame candy and collecting scrap.

Though they sell little candy and collect little scrap each day, they persist, occasionally asking if anyone in the compound is from the north.

These rural folks are, of course, Hao Peng and his group, “carrying a pig’s head to find the temple gate.”

Hao Jian sent Li Ye a telegram for help, but Li Ye isn’t a god—he can’t wave a hand and solve their troubles, so he only offered a viable direction.

Li Ye told them to find a local to help, but not just anyone—they mustn’t pick blindly, because by now, swindlers have spotted the “opportunity,” and getting cheated is a matter of minutes.

People in unit residential areas have simpler backgrounds; everyone belongs to a unit. If you swindle someone today, word spreads across the whole compound tomorrow, and that’s not just about losing face—it could get you dragged off by the xx Department and crushed.

Of course, people with units don’t much care for Hao Jian, a petty trader barely better than a vagrant, so the specific group of “northern fellow countrymen” becomes crucial.

Large state-owned units can’t possibly be all locals; the fathers’ generation likely came from all corners of the country.

So if even one fellow countryman shows willingness to help, Hao Jian won’t hesitate to pay generously and give them a satisfactory reply.

It’s just like Jin Peng helping his wife get a job—you fear only not finding someone who can get things done; once you find them, no problem is unsolvable with money.

People of later generations might not understand the meaning or power of “northern fellow countrymen,” but when Li Ye was still young in his past life, he’d actually witnessed it firsthand on a train.

It was a green-skin train from Daoshan to Yangcheng, mostly standing-room-only tickets—anyone who grabbed a seat kept it.

A man from Dongshan had sat down halfway, when three thugs came to take his seat.

A towering man, flushed and furious, reluctantly stood up and said something oddly comical.

“I’m from Dongshan xx. Today, stranded away from home, I’m not asking anyone to fight for me—just hope fellow Dongshan men and boys will bear witness: they started it.”

Then the man prepared to roll up his sleeves and fight.

But no fight broke out.

Because after he spoke, more than half the carriage stood up.

No one shouted or yelled—just stared coldly.

The three thugs never dared to move.

Li Ye was stunned—he was in the late 90s, yet the Dongshan folks’ righteous, stubborn spirit hadn’t vanished yet!

So he figured that in 1982, there were still a few warm-hearted fellow countrymen; if Hao Jian put in the effort, his success rate shouldn’t be low.

But Li Ye most feared that Hao Jian had already begun thinking of retreating.

In the 80s, clever people were as numerous as fish crossing a river, yet how many ended up blending into the crowd?

Why? Many were satisfied with small wealth—once they escaped poverty and hunger, with wife, children, and a warm bed, they were content.

Isn’t it sweet enough to earn a thousand yuan a month when the sesame candy business is booming?

Why risk traveling thousands of miles for a venture that could wipe out all capital—or land you in prison?

So the phrase “those who refuse to submit to fate” was really written for Hao Jian.

But Li Ye underestimated Hao Jian’s ambition—he’d locked onto two viable candidates in less than a week.

“Old Hao, that’s enough—I think that Comrade Bai is good enough; his hometown is only two hundred li from ours.”

“Even if his wife looks down on us, if we go to his door, nine times out of ten, as long as we get help with shipping, we’ll make money.”

“We’ve been out nearly a month already—if we don’t go back, our business at home will fall apart.”

Jin Peng missed home—especially his wife—and just wanted to get back as soon as possible.

The garment wholesale merchants are hard to deal with? Then pay more. Back home, we’d still make a hundred percent profit—what more could you want?

But Hao Jian felt something was missing, saying only: “Wait a bit longer. Let’s look a few more days. If nothing better turns up, we’ll go to Comrade Bai.”

A few days passed, and no better options appeared. Hao Jian and the others arrived early at the repair plant’s residential area, waiting for Comrade Bai to finish work so they could pay him a visit.

It was a weekday, and Hao Jian’s group arrived too early—the residential area was quiet, almost empty.

The four men found a corner and squatted together, smoking.

At that moment, from a building nearby, a wheelchair rolled out and stopped directly in a sunlit patch against the wall.

On the wheelchair sat a young man in his twenties, squinting at the sun—likely blinded by its glare.

But then he closed his eyes contentedly, clearly savoring the warmth on his skin.

Hao Jian’s eyes lit up.

The young man’s clothes were clean—not the ragged attire of someone neglected at home.

His hair was neat, his complexion ruddy—he clearly lived well.

He had only one leg, yet wore brand-new pants and a single polished leather shoe, even fresh socks.

Hao Jian’s cigarette had fallen unnoticed to the ground. He suddenly stood and strode over.

Jin Peng and the others rushed after him.

The young man, eyes closed, felt footsteps and opened them to find the four men advancing in a spearhead formation.

He swiftly pulled a cane from under his wheelchair and executed a sharp “thrusting spear flourish.”

Jin Peng, who’d trained briefly with Li Zhong, silently praised him—this thrust alone could handle stray dogs and cats.

Hao Jian quickly waved his hands in front of his chest, apologetic: “Brother, don’t misunderstand—we’re not bad people.”

“We’re honest folks from the north, selling sesame candy and collecting scrap. Many people in your unit know us.”

The young man held his cane steady, unmoved.

Hao Jian sighed and continued: “We’re truly not bad people. Look, we have letters of introduction—we came to Guangdong to trade clothing, but unfortunately...”

Hao Jian cut straight to the point, honestly explaining his predicament and making clear his willingness to pay for help.

If someone’s this wary, do you really think flattery and false familiarity will work?

Nonsense. Lay out the cards and talk plainly.

But after Hao Jian chattered on for a long while, the legless youth said not a word.

What’s the point of talking?

Hao Jian’s throat was dry. He glanced helplessly at Jin Peng.

Jin Peng smiled, pulled out a Daqianmen cigarette, and offered it.

“Brother, want a smoke?”

The young man said nothing, didn’t move.

Jin Peng was puzzled—he noticed a faint mark on the young man’s right middle finger, clearly someone with a strong smoking habit, at least in the past.

But since the man wouldn’t take the bait, he couldn’t force it.

Jin Peng pointed at the cane and asked with a smile: “Brother, is that a bayonet drill?”

“I trained a few days with an old man before, but my family wouldn’t let me join the army...”

Jin Peng judged this cripple was very likely a veteran from the southern front—the short military haircut, cold gaze, all carried that unique aura.

But no matter how much Jin Peng chattered, the cripple remained silent.

Jin Peng shrugged helplessly to Hao Jian: “Forget it. Our Mandarin’s too thick—he doesn’t understand.”

Hao Jian and Jin Peng both had heavy accents; they only got by because Mandarin is based on northern dialects—even then, talking to Guangdong folks required guessing and hand gestures.

That’s the best case. If it were reversed, you’d be completely lost.

Try speaking your Huguang dialect up north—good luck if a northerner understands even a single word.

Seeing communication was impossible, Hao Jian had no choice but to agree with Jin Peng: they’d go see Comrade Bai.

But as they turned to leave, he placed a pack of sesame candy carefully on the young man’s wheelchair.

“Sorry, brother—we’re rough folks, desperate and clumsy, scared you. My apologies.”

Hao Jian and the others turned away.

The young man in the wheelchair watched their retreating backs, and a faint sneer curled his lips.

“Hey, why do you think I can help you?”

Hao Jian and Jin Peng had already walked far when they heard the young man’s voice.

Perfect Mandarin.

Hao Jian turned back, looked at the cripple, and after a moment’s thought said: “Because I think... you’re someone who refuses to submit to fate.”

The cripple tilted his head left, studied Hao Jian for a moment, then tilted it right.

Then he shook his head: “That’s not something you said.”

Hao Jian was embarrassed, but pressed on: “Why isn’t it?”

The cripple sneered: “Because you said it without conviction.”

“.........”

The cripple added: “Also, when you said that, your friend behind you was smiling.”

Hao Jian whirled around and glared at Jin Peng.

[I’m trying to play it cool here—why are you messing it up?]

Hao Jian turned back to the cripple: “May I ask your name, brother?”

The cripple didn’t answer, instead asked: “You want a freight car? How many cars?”

Hao Jian nearly grinned—two ten-thousand-yuan goods wouldn’t even fill half a car!

“Ahem~”

Hao Jian cleared his throat: “We mainly need help with transportation. If we could also get connected to the garment wholesale market, that’d be better...”

“Those merchants are too insular—they give me four yuan for a jacket, but only two yuan and twenty or thirty to others...”

The cripple interrupted: “Two yuan.”

Hao Jian: “What?”

The Lame Man: “Two kuai. I can get you two kuai per piece. But what can you offer me?”

“........”

Hao Jian and Jin Peng exchanged a glance, skeptical but willing to give it a try.

Hao Jian quickly ran the numbers in his mind, then remembered how Li Ye had originally tricked him.

“Brother, are you after a lump sum payment... or a share of the profits?”

The Lame Man stared at Hao Jian for several seconds, then said: “I want equity.”

“........”

Hao Jian was stunned again—this young man might be lame in the legs, but his mind was sharp.

He pressed on: “Then how much capital are you prepared to invest?”

“Huh~”

The young man chuckled and said: “I won’t put in any money. I take equity—fifty-fifty split.”

【Damn, you’re even worse than that dog heir Li Ye!】