Entertainment: 1990

Chapter 1: Gone, Died, Ended

"Nine out of a billion people are business owners, and another one hundred million are about to open for business. Hai Zi's tragedy is not that he himself was rich or poor, but that everyone else only cares about money!"

On Sunday morning, April 1, 1990, at nine o'clock, 23-year-old Zhang Yan was squatting behind a book stall on a street lined with stalls next to the Hengjiang City Department Store, talking fluently.

Because a few days ago marked the first anniversary of the famous poet Hai Zi's suicide by lying on the railway tracks, and newspapers were filled with articles commemorating and remembering him, this topic has once again become a hot issue.

"Is anyone here? How much is the paper money?"

Just as they were having a lively discussion, an old lady from the next stall started making a fuss. Zhang Yan quickly got up and replied, "Yes, yes, ma'am, what kind would you like?"

It turned out he wasn't the owner of the bookstall, but the man next door who sold ghost money.

The old woman glared at her and said, "Who are you calling 'elder sister'?"

Zhang Yan pretended to look at the other person carefully, then quickly bowed: "Oh, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm a little nearsighted. I just heard that you were so energetic and dressed so neatly, so I thought... Please don't mind, I'll round it down for you later."

Hearing him say that, the old lady was clearly very pleased.

However, after browsing through the stalls and asking about the prices of each item, the old lady's face turned from sunny to cloudy, and she muttered, "How come even paper money has gone up in price? How are people supposed to live like this?"

Zhang Yan shrugged: "There's nothing we can do. Look around, is there anything that hasn't gone up in price in the last two years?"

The old lady knew that's how things were, but she still couldn't help complaining a few times, and then asked, "Are there any cheaper options?"

"This……"

Zhang Yan hesitated for a moment, and seeing that the old lady was about to leave, he gritted his teeth and said, "Please wait!"

As he spoke, he turned around and laboriously pulled out a thick stack of yellow paper from a sack leaning against the wall. He spread it out in front of the old woman and whispered, "These are all printed. I originally wanted to keep them for my own grave visits. Anyway, when we visit graves, it's all about the sentiment. As long as the sentiment is there, that's enough."

The old lady took a closer look and saw that the edges of the yellow paper were somewhat torn and the hole in the copper coin in the middle was not very neat, so she immediately believed it to be 70% true.

Then he said in a dramatic tone, "Of course you have to use it yourself. You can't sell this piece of junk even if you want to—why don't you just give it to me cheaply?"

"But it can't be too cheap, otherwise I'd rather burn it for my ancestors..."

After some back and forth, the two sides finally reached a compromise price and completed the transaction. Before leaving, the old lady even grabbed two extra old newspapers for packing.

Watching the old lady walk away triumphantly, the owner of the bookstall next door chuckled and teased, "Little Zhang, you've sold nothing but defective goods all morning. Do you have enough left for yourself?"

Zhang Yan put the money in his pocket and pointed to the sign standing on the stall, which read: "Factory Direct Sales, Retail and Wholesale".

"The entire factory only serves me, do you think that's enough for me?"

If possible, Zhang Yan would not want to focus on producing defective products. The problem is that the printing factory workers are reluctant to print ghost money, which leads to a consistently high defect rate.

However, the small vendors who bought goods from him in bulk refused to accept these defective products, forcing him to find his own solution.

Just as Zhang Yan had finished his banter, another person squatted down in front of the ghost money stall. This was a genuine older woman, and she was dressed quite elegantly.

She glanced at the yellow paper and heavenly coins displayed on the stall, noticing her hands were covered in the color. Disgusted, she pulled out a handkerchief to wipe them clean and casually asked, "Young man, do you have anything better here?"

"This one……"

Zhang Yan hesitated for a moment, then pulled out several stacks of ghost money from the sack and reluctantly placed them on the stall: "Big sister, these are all for my own use. If it weren't for the fact that you are a person of principle like me, I definitely wouldn't have taken them out."

As he spoke, he vigorously rubbed the joss paper, then showed his clean hands to the woman opposite him. Seeing her nod slightly, he pressed on, saying, "I don't bother arguing with ordinary people. Actually, when we worship our ancestors during Qingming Festival, it's all about the sentiment. If we only care about saving money, wouldn't that be like 'burning newspapers at the grave—fooling the ghosts'?"

puff~
As soon as he finished speaking, a young woman in front of the bookstall laughed out loud. Zhang Yan glanced at her and vaguely remembered that she was there when he talked about "Hai Zi" earlier.

But at a bookstall, many people browse for a while without buying anything. So Zhang Yan didn't pay much attention.

He readily exchanged money and goods with the older woman, and after seeing the customer off, he leisurely returned to the bookstall next door, ready to continue his sermon.

"Your feelings are really fickle."

At this moment, the young woman suddenly questioned in a serious tone: "Isn't doing this a rip-off? Is this how everyone in your line of work, or...?"

"How is this considered fooling people?"

Zhang Yan retorted unhappily, "I'm just going along with the customer's words. Does that mean I have to be sullen and indifferent like in a department store to avoid fooling people?"

The girl had already seen that Zhang Yan was sharp-tongued, and even after being rebuffed, she remained calm and composed, continuing her questioning: "Do you know that the government is cracking down on the chaos in the funeral industry? The things you sell are included in that crackdown!"

Zhang Yan frowned slightly, looked the girl up and down, and then suddenly asked, "Are you a reporter from the TV station or the Hengjiang Daily?"

The young woman was taken aback and asked in surprise, "How did you know I'm a reporter from the Daily News?"

"Nonsense, would an ordinary person know this news? And besides reporters, no one else would bother me with such trivial matters and come here asking me all sorts of questions!"

After Zhang Yan finished speaking, he visibly breathed a sigh of relief, turned around and went back to his stall, then beckoned to the female reporter and said, "Let's talk in private."

Seeing that the female reporter was frowning and hadn't moved, he added, "You're Reporter Feng, who just started her internship at the beginning of the year, right?"

Feng Tingting was taken aback. She could deduce the reporter's identity through logic, but it was truly magical and unbelievable that this unscrupulous merchant could recognize her surname so readily.

She was filled with a mix of shock, wariness, and curiosity, but since they were on a bustling street, she wasn't worried about Zhang Yan doing anything reckless. In the end, curiosity prevailed. So she carefully circled around to the back of the ghost money stall, trying to keep a safe distance.

At this moment, Zhang Yan stuck his head out and, before she could avoid it, said in a low voice, "We're one of you. I'm a special commentator for our newspaper."

"what?!"

Feng Tingting was even more dumbfounded.

Zhang Yan then dropped another bombshell: "I'm a typesetter at the Third Printing Plant. As for these things on the stall... you know what I mean."

After saying that, seeing that Feng Tingting didn't seem to be moved, Zhang Yan couldn't help but shake his head inwardly. Sure enough, she was a newcomer who dared to go in without knowing anything.

He then added, "The Third Printing Plant was originally an asset under the Hengjiang Daily, and it was not separated until 88. Therefore, most of the employees in the plant were family members of the newspaper staff."

In fact, Zhang Yan was also the son of a newspaper employee; his father, Zhang Xingguo, was the art editor of the Hengjiang Daily.

Zhang Yan graduated from high school in 85 but failed to get into university. He was unwilling to let his father take early retirement and take over his job, so he had no choice but to work as a typesetter in a printing factory.

This could be considered a case of the son following in his father's footsteps, since being a typewriter requires some basic graphic design skills.

Upon hearing this, Feng Tingting finally understood what was going on, and then her rationality and emotion began to fight each other.

But how many young, impetuous girls don't act on their emotions?
So she finally couldn't help but question, "Aren't you breaking the law?!"

"Or else?"

Zhang Yan spread his hands confidently and said, "Ever since the price reform, we've been getting less and less work from above. The Daily News isn't willing to raise prices for the printing plants. If we don't find a way to make some extra money, are you going to support us?"

Feng Tingting was speechless. After the price reform, similar chaos emerged one after another, with all sorts of crooked and shady practices. Making extra money by printing ghost money was already considered quite harmless.

She only saw that the higher authorities had issued guiding policies and felt that there was something to be done, so she took advantage of Sunday to conduct an undercover investigation, without obtaining any endorsement from above.

But Feng Tingting was really unwilling to back down, so she stubbornly insisted, "How do I know if what you're saying is true or false?"

"This isn't some state secret. Why don't you just scan the QR code at the newspaper and find out?"

"What if you take the opportunity to run away?"

"What do you mean? Are you trying to arrest me? Are you a reporter or a policeman? How about this, I'll take you to the printing factory. You'll have to go through all that trouble, so you can also give the editor-in-chief's second cousin a silver bracelet!"

As the two were arguing, a bicycle suddenly stopped in front of the stall. The girl riding the bicycle braced herself on one side with her long legs, called out "Brother" to Zhang Yan, and then curiously looked at Feng Tingting.

Feng Tingting then realized that she was about to be face to face with Zhang Yan, and hurriedly took two steps back, blushing.

Zhang Yan scolded her impatiently, "Xiao Fang, why aren't you at home studying? What are you doing here?"

The visitor was Zhang Yan's younger sister, Zhang Fang, who was in her second year of high school.

Seeing her brother's rude attitude, she curled her nose in displeasure and said, "You're biting the hand that feeds you! I've brought some big news!"

As she spoke, she couldn't help but glance at Feng Tingting sideways, curiously asking, "Who is this lady?"

Zhang Yan casually replied, "This is reporter Feng, who just joined the newspaper. We're discussing an article—the commentary I published on the front page of the daily newspaper a few days ago."

"Oh, oh~ it's that article, 'Gu Cheng is Gone, Hai Zi is Dead, the Era of Poetry is Over,' right?"

Zhang Fang gave an exaggerated response, but she was clearly half-believing and half-doubting, after all, the posture and distance between the two just now could be considered quite ambiguous in today's society.

So she got off the car with one leg and whispered in Zhang Yan's ear, "Brother, I just saw Uncle Zhou and Aunt Li arguing. It seems that Sister Zhou ran away from home last night."

"What?! Zhou Nan, she..."

Upon hearing this, Zhang Yan's expression changed drastically. He darted from behind the stall to the front, mounted his bike, and shouted as he pedaled, "Keep an eye on this stall for me. If anyone wants to place a long-term order, write down their contact information!"

"elder brother!"

Zhang Fang chased after him anxiously, shouting, "I haven't finished my homework yet!"

But Zhang Yan had no time to care about any of that; he had already disappeared on his old bicycle.

Zhang Fang could only mutter to herself as she returned to the stall, looking at the ghost money on the ground with disgust.

Although she didn't think, like some people, that her brother was making money off the dead and disgracing printing factory workers, she absolutely didn't want acquaintances to see her selling paper money at a stall.

At this moment, Feng Tingting suddenly leaned over and asked curiously, "The Zhou Nan you were talking about earlier, is she Zhou Nan, the daughter of Deputy Editor-in-Chief Zhou? What's your brother's relationship with her?"

Although she was new to the job, she had long heard of the deputy editor-in-chief's daughter, who was said to be even more beautiful than a movie star and had countless suitors.

“There’s no connection. He just rose through the ranks from a high-ranking hospital.” After saying that, Zhang Fang realized that her statement was a bit weak, so she added, “It’s just unrequited love on his part. They’re both innocent.”

After saying that, the little girl secretly observed Feng Tingting's reaction, but after looking around, she couldn't find the change she wanted. She could only shake her head secretly, thinking that her brother's marriage was probably still a big worry.

(End of this chapter)