The door of the courtyard house has been welded dead

Society is changing too fast.

Some of those who ventured into business seized the opportunity and rose to prominence, enjoying immense success.

Some people's thinking is still stuck in the past, and they haven't kept up with the times. As a result, they are being left further and further behind, and the gap is getting bigger and bigger.

For example, Bang Geng didn't have much of an impression of banks before, feeling that they were far removed from him. Now he suddenly discovered that he could get interest on his money, and the key point is that the interest rate is not low.

A bank employee gave a simple example: if you deposit 100 yuan and leave it untouched for eight years, you can withdraw 172 yuan when you do.

This deeply moved him. He realized that as long as he had money, he could make money even without working, by depositing it in the bank.

For someone like Xu Damao, if he deposits 10,000 yuan and withdraws it when it matures, he will have 17,200 yuan. In eight years, he will have earned 7,200 yuan in interest alone.

On average, it's more than what a regular office worker saves up in a year through hard work. The key point is that this is legal. Where can you go to seek justice?

A person's perspective determines their life.

Within the gang, Bang Geng, as a key technician, has received a considerable amount of money over the years. However, in this environment, spending money extravagantly has become a habit.

Saving money, but what kind of money?

If I get arrested by the police and end up in jail before I've even spent all my money, I'll be at a huge loss.

Live for today, for tomorrow we may die; if we run out of money tomorrow, we'll steal again. After all, we don't have to do any actual work, let alone deposit money in the bank.

After earning over a thousand yuan this time, Banggeng learned his lesson and followed Xu Damao's example, depositing his money in the bank. He figured he wouldn't lose it anyway, and it wouldn't matter if he lost the passbook, since the bank kept records anyway.

With a toothpick dangling from his mouth, Banggeng emerged from the People's Bank of China in a cocky manner. He glanced back at the counter, which was full of people handling deposit and withdrawal transactions. If you were to ask where there was a lot of money, this was definitely the place.

"Damn, how come I never noticed before? Everyone coming and going here is a rich person!"

He squatted down under the shade of a tree across the street, opened his savings book and looked at the 350 yuan he had saved. Banggeng even flicked it with his finger.

Xu Damao deposited his money in two different banks. He followed suit, but since it was his first time, he didn't dare to deposit too much. He didn't have a work unit certificate and was afraid people would ask him where the money came from.

As a result, without even asking any questions, the bank employee said that three hundred yuan was not a lot of money, and after opening an account, they recommended an eight-year deposit plan.

With the expectation of receiving 252 yuan eight years later, Bang Geng didn't hesitate and set the timeframe for that long.

In the past, none of the people he had met knew that there was such a business where you could make money while lying down. If he had known earlier, the money he received each year would have been enough for him to sit at home and live off the interest.

You have to learn from rich people. Rich people are really smart; they make money from money.

Banggeng put the passbook into his pocket, looked around, and prepared to go to the next Industrial and Commercial Bank of China to deposit another 500 yuan, but this time for a shorter period of five years. Finally, he would deposit the rest into the Agricultural Bank of China.

“Crack~!”

Before Banggeng had gone far, he saw a car parked in front of the bank.

Inside the bank, a woman walked out, carrying a cloth bag in her hand and holding it protectively in front of her chest, which attracted a lot of attention.

Looking over there, what catches the eye is that cloth bag, bulging and bulging inside, and what's more, it has sharp edges and corners when it's stretched open. Let's not talk about what's inside.

"That must be worth at least 100,000 yuan, right?"

Bang Geng was dumbfounded. He originally thought that Xu Damao's ten thousand yuan was already a big fat sheep, but it turned out that there were even more powerful people out there. No wonder they looked down on those who only had three or five hundred yuan in their savings.

The woman was very cautious; she opened the car door and got in, and the car sped away.

"Wow, how come everyone's so rich these days?!"

He can't distinguish between public and private funds; in Banggeng's eyes, it's all money, regardless of its value. He's still smug about a thousand-odd yuan, while others easily have tens of thousands. Can someone who steals, especially street thieves who stab people in the back, ever amount to anything?
Bang Geng's eyes turned red, and his breathing became heavy. These rich people could earn more interest in a year by simply putting their money in the bank than he could earn by working hard for several years.

My vision seemed to broaden, my perspective broadened. How much money could I steal from an ordinary person? This was a big deal. I could pull off one heist and leave immediately. Why would I have to live in fear afterward?

Like Xu Damao, if he gets a color TV, a VCR, and opens his own video arcade, gradually turning the money he earns into "his own," he too can become a superior person.

I bought a pack of cigarettes from a roadside shop. After figuring things out, my hand was trembling as I struck the match. I felt my idea was very bold, but doing this kind of big job required a team; it would be very difficult for one person to accomplish it alone.

I was hesitant at first, thinking that with this thousand-plus yuan, I could go to Tangshan or not. But now I think it's not impossible to go. It's precisely because the people there are rough around the edges that it's feasible.

How much money can you get by robbing ordinary people? If you're going to do it, go after the rich. I believe that after this burglary, Brother Pi and his gang will change their minds. No matter how much you steal from an ordinary person, it's only a few dollars or a dozen dollars.

"The bold get rich, the timid starve. There are so many rich people, why can't I be rich too?"

For a fat sheep like Xu Damao, as long as you keep watch outside the bank, you can take as much as you want. But breaking into a house is a bit too slow.

He threw the cigarette butt on the ground and rubbed it hard with the sole of his foot. A fierce glint flashed in Banggeng's eyes. He would go to Tangshan first to avoid the storm and then come back after things calmed down here.

In the afternoon, I deposited the money I needed to, kept some money on me, and took the train to Tangshan.

Instead of rushing to make contact with the Cleaver Gang, Bang Geng first found a hotel to scout out the city and familiarize himself with its history of earthquakes and steel production.

Seven or eight years have passed. There are not many ruins left on the streets. The new urban area is beautifully built, with square department stores, the Tangshan Hotel with more than ten floors, and the streets are bustling with traffic.

Unlike Beijing, where the middle of the intersection leads to the opposite lane, a green roundabout has been built, making the whole city look new and beautiful, and giving it a relatively prosperous appearance.

Only in the distant suburbs can one see the chimneys and rows of factories that dot the landscape of heavy industrial cities.

For Banggeng, who was visiting another city for the first time, he was quite satisfied with the city. It was somewhat different from Beijing, but the difference wasn't significant, and prices were much cheaper.

The next day, I ate breakfast at a steamed bun shop, my usual soy milk with fried dough sticks and meat buns, and I ate with gusto.

It was because of this breakfast that Banggeng finally understood what Pige meant when he said the locals' cooking methods were rough.

The breakfast stall was clearly run by an elderly couple with their child. There was a sign on the wall indicating that it was a sole proprietorship, and a red paper notice that read, "Please take good care of your belongings."

An elderly man fries dough sticks at his stall, while an older woman pours soy milk and wraps steamed buns. The younger man is in charge of the steamed buns and collecting money. It's a gradually emerging family-run business.

Early in the morning, there weren't many customers, but there weren't few either; the restaurant was about 50-60% full, and the diners were all wearing factory uniforms.

When we were halfway through our meal, a few young and strong men came and squeezed into the stall at the entrance.

They were either wearing cotton undershirts that showed down to their navels or shirts with the sleeves rolled up to their elbows, each with a crossbody bag slung over their shoulder. The aura they exuded was even more like that of a thug than the local bullies in Beijing.

Without any pretense, they picked up the fried dough sticks without any hesitation, stuffing them into their mouths without caring that they were hot, their contemptuous gazes sweeping over the diners eating inside.

The diners seemed used to it, continuing to eat their own food and ignoring the people at the door.

"Hey old man, it's time to pay!"

After finishing a fried dough stick in a few bites, the man in the lead didn't reach for his money. Instead, he reached for his military green satchel, tapped his knuckles on the table, and spoke in a very arrogant manner.

The shop owner's son, watching this scene, looked resentful and wanted to say something, but his mother forcibly dragged him inside.

"What, you're not convinced? Come on, let's see if your head is harder, or my knife is harder, *snap*!"

A young man, noticing the shop owner's son's displeasure, sneered, pulled a boning knife from his crossbody bag, and slammed it on the table.

A question mark crossed Bang Geng's forehead, because the other diners were still eating, completely oblivious to what was happening. (End of Chapter)