Courtyard House: A Start with Black Gold Swallowing 100,000 Silver Dollars

Li Jiacheng poked at the pickled vegetable bits at the bottom of the bowl with the tip of his chopsticks and sighed, "Sigh, he's worked in the factory for fifteen years and is still just an ordinary fitter. But my Uncle Yu—his own brother—is the factory manager. He's given up a ready-made opportunity and prefers to just coast along with his eighth-grade worker's paycheck. If I don't push him to do anything, he can lie around until retirement."

"cut--"

Jianjun, standing next to him, picked up a piece of fried tofu and scoffed, "You have so many uncles, what does it matter if one more or one less is just coasting along? It actually frees up space so others can move up."

"Hahaha!"

Someone slapped their thigh and laughed.

The others joined in the laughter, their cheerful voices unrestrained.

They really don't care if there's one more person sharing the cake—the current situation is just beginning, they haven't even touched the edge yet, the cake is so thick that a knife can't cut it, so it doesn't matter who squeezes in.

Sure enough, Li Guojiang gave the tape recorder to his two colleagues that same day, casually mentioning the "ten yuan rebate for each unit sold" offer.

The next morning, the two of them waited for him at the factory gate. Each of them asked for two more tapes, and whispered, "Do you still have any tapes? My mother wants to listen to 'Small Town Story,' and the kids are clamoring for Teresa Teng's..."

"Of course we have tapes," Li Guojiang agreed, "but I don't know the market price yet, I'll have to come back and ask."

So, as soon as the bell rang to signal the end of the workday, he turned into the courtyard again.

"Uncle Guojiang, did you see that? I told you so, didn't I?"

Hu Yeming came up to him, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and he was waving a small notebook in his hand. "After you left yesterday, I made a note of something—six tape recorders, three days, net profit of five hundred and forty yuan."

He counted on his fingers: "For the first two machines, you sell them yourself and make a pure profit of two hundred; for the next four, you get a ten-yuan commission for each machine, so you'll pocket three hundred and sixty, making a total of five hundred and forty. That's three times more than your monthly salary."

Li Guojiang didn't reply, but reached out and patted him hard on the shoulder twice, grinning: "Good job, kid, quick-witted and sharp-tongued—you really didn't waste your time running dispatching on the railway."

After saying that, he took the newly calculated price list, glanced at it, and suddenly looked up to ask, "What price should I charge for those cassette tapes?"

The group exchanged smiles, but didn't answer. They simply pushed the freshly brewed hot tea towards him.

After hearing the account, Li Guojiang merely nodded slightly, his face showing no emotion whatsoever.

"Indeed, it's better than receiving a fixed monthly salary."

Everyone was taken aback—this reaction is strange.

Logically speaking, a thousand yuan every ten days, or a little over thirty thousand yuan a year, would make anyone's heart flutter and their eyes light up. But he was as indifferent as if he had heard someone say "the sky is overcast today," without even raising an eyebrow.

The young men, who had grown up in the compound, exchanged glances. One of them couldn't help but speak up: "Uncle Guojiang, do the math: 1,000 yuan every ten days, minus holidays, that's over 30,000 yuan a year, right? Doesn't that even pique your interest?"

"Oh?"

"Thirty thousand...that's a lot?"

His tone was flat, without any inflection, and there was not a trace of perfunctoriness. His expression showed that he truly didn't take it seriously.

Li Jiacheng chimed in with a laugh, "Oh my, you guys don't know? Uncle Guo Shen from Hong Kong, who is brothers with Uncle Guo Jiang, sends back HK$10,000 every year without fail—he's already saved over HK$100,000, and the dowry he received for his wedding alone was HK$80,000!"

Li Guojiang chimed in, casually picking up his enamel mug and taking a sip of tea: "Yeah, the money's just sitting there, taking up too much space even when stored away. What's the point of having so much?"

As soon as the words were spoken, the young men fell silent. The young man who had been doing the accounting earlier had his ears turn slightly red as he fiddled with the seams of his trousers—he had thought he was quite confident because he had worked hard for almost a year and earned tens of thousands of yuan; but it turned out that the other man's savings alone were several times greater, and that was his hard-earned, untouched capital.

Just then, Li Jiacheng added, "By the way, all the goods we bought, including those tapes, came from Uncle Guo Shen's factory."

"hiss--"

A collective gasp filled the air.

Everyone turned to look at Li Guojiang, their eyes filled with sudden realization: so the money they had made from selling so well was half thanks to his brother and the other half thanks to this "Salted Fish Uncle"!

The Li family members are indeed not easy to fool.

Outside the textile factory gate, Sun Qiang waited by the roadside with his hands in his pockets. When he saw Li Guojiang coming over, he immediately went up to him and said, "Guojiang, give me fifteen more tape recorders, and fifteen copies of each of the singer's cassette tapes."

Lü Wei quickly added, "I want eighteen units, and eighteen cassette tapes as well."

The two men were colleagues of Li Guojiang in the same workshop at the factory. Ever since he started helping them with sales and giving them commissions per order, their appetites grew like bamboo shoots after a spring rain. What's even more remarkable is that they actually figured out a way to make money—following Li Guojiang's example, they also recruited a few acquaintances to help sell the goods, giving each new customer a five-yuan commission for every unit sold.

Although the net profit per unit was only five dollars, the sales volume soared, and the total amount received actually doubled compared to before.

"Okay, I'll have someone deliver it to you first thing tomorrow morning." Li Guojiang nodded in agreement, then turned to walk towards the courtyard to check the delivery order with his nephew, Li Jiacheng.

"Wait, Kunie!"

Sun Qiang called out to him and winked at Lü Wei.

Lu Wei immediately stepped forward, rubbing his hands together with a grin: "Uncle Guojiang, it's like this—we've been following your example, bringing in our own customers, giving away five yuan per order, leaving us with very little. Do you think... we could loosen the reins a bit? After all, we've put in a lot of effort running errands, wearing out our shoes, staying up all night sorting goods and carrying boxes."

He took the initiative to say it—Sun Qiang was too shy to say it.

Li Guojiang paused slightly, not in a hurry to reply.

He's not short of money, really. He's not obsessed with numbers, nor is he greedy for profits. Helping his nephew promote his goods is the only thing he wants to do. But he understands the ways of the world: if you agree too readily, they'll ask for more next time; if you give in just the right amount, that's how you make a long-term deal.

"Since you're giving five yuan to your next customer for each order, I'll also give you five yuan."

"hiss--"

Sun Qiang and Lü Wei were stunned on the spot. They looked at each other and sighed inwardly: This guy is unbelievably straightforward!

But then they thought again, the profit margin on tape recorders was already substantial, and if they lowered the price by five dollars, there would still be room for negotiation. The two of them quickly accepted their offer and didn't dare to say another word.

That evening at the delivery point, Xiao Zhi arrived on time with his canvas bag. Sun Qiang took the goods, then suddenly remembered something and grabbed Xiao Zhi's arm: "Young man, if I may ask—were these goods really handled by Uncle Guojiang personally?"

The implication was clear: they wanted to bypass the middleman and connect directly with the factory.

Lu Wei's eyes lit up, and he immediately perked up his ears.

Xiao Zhi shook his head, his voice soft but clear: "No. Uncle Guojiang is one of our partners. Even if you bypass him and come to us directly, the price you pay will be exactly the same."

He had already received instructions from Li Jiacheng: elevate Li Guojiang's status and solidify the relationship. Being a shrewd man, how could he not see what the two were plotting?

The next day, Sun Qiang placed another order, this time for over twenty tape recorders. At the end, he scratched his head and casually asked, "Guojiang, besides tape recorders, does the factory make anything else? Like radios or televisions?"

Li Guojiang wanted to say "no," but he suddenly paused—the 14-inch Feiyue brand color TV and the Hongdeng brand radio on the cabinet were right there.

A thought flashes through my mind, and my ideas come to life.

"I'll go back and ask around to see if they have any."

"Over there" naturally refers to whether Li Jiacheng could smuggle the two appliances out of his older brother Li Guowu.

A short while later, Li Guojiang entered the courtyard, handed the list to Li Jiacheng, and casually asked, "Do you sell televisions or radios?"

"A television? A radio?"

Li Jiacheng paused, his pencil hovering over the paper. "Uncle Guojiang, your two clients... do they still need this?"

He had initially assumed everyone was just doing something easy, earning a little pocket money with tape recorders and cassettes. But upon hearing this, it was as if a gong had been struck in his head—that's right! These are legitimate household appliances; how many families in Beijing are waiting to replace them?

"Hmm. My brother's factory also produces these two things. Can you get some?"

"Yes! Of course you can!"

Before he could finish speaking, Weihao, who had been listening at the table, jumped up and slapped his thigh: "Jiacheng! This is a sure thing! Get more radios and TVs over here—this whole operation in Beijing should have started a long time ago!"

"Yes, if we stock up on more goods, we definitely won't have to worry about sales."

These children of high-ranking officials, having tasted success, would say "give it a try" but had already handed over their orders, urging others to add more varieties and expand their operations.

Radios and televisions were gradually brought into the city.

……

Radios were alright, their price wasn't much different from tape recorders; but televisions were different—they cost several hundred dollars, and color TVs were even more frighteningly expensive. Ordinary people wouldn't even dare to touch one, only the island's elite dared to bring them into their homes.

With these two additions, the business that Li Jiacheng and the children of the compound partnered up tripled in size. The turnover skyrocketed, and the money in the accounts also became much thicker.

Especially on Li Guojiang's side, his two colleagues, Sun Qiang and Lü Wei, seemed to have finally figured it out. They expanded their network, sold more goods, and had a dense order book. Just over three months later, both of them had pocketed several thousand yuan. After discussing it privately, they decided to take unpaid leave—to do this job first, and then go back to their jobs once they had saved enough.

That evening.

……

Cui Jingjing went home after get off work.

Having already reached the rank of section chief in charge of the island, she walked with a brisk pace, her shoulders and back straight, and even the way she raised her eyes and lowered her hands exuded a calm and composed air. To others, she seemed like a woman of few words, who never showed her teeth when she smiled, and who never revealed her thoughts on her face.

Pushing open the door, one sees Li Guojiang squatting by the table, counting a stack of banknotes: there are brand new ten-dollar "Great Unity" notes, as well as old and wrinkled five-dollar, two-dollar, and one-dollar notes, a mix of new and old, scattered all over the table. At a rough glance, it probably amounts to tens of thousands.

It wasn't stored at home.

She frowned slightly, didn't say anything, and changed into slippers first.

"Jingjing's back? Come on, lend a hand and help me get ready."

Li Guojiang looked up and greeted her, casually pushing a few loose bills toward her.

"Where did this money come from?"

Her voice was calm, neither hurried nor angry; she simply asked.

It wasn't given by Grandma Jinhua—the old lady was always efficient, a bundle of ten-yuan bills tied with a rubber band at the corners. These were clearly loose change collected here and there.