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

It was early spring of 1982, and the winds of reform had just begun to blow: vendors selling candied hawthorns, hauling goods by tricycle, repairing radios, and dealing in cloth and grain coupons were popping up everywhere; real estate was still just a blueprint, and opening a factory was even more dauntingly difficult—unless you were affiliated with a state-owned enterprise, you could only go to Shenzhen; but that place was more than a thousand miles from Beijing, a two-day train ride, and few dared to go. At that time, the most practical ways to make a living were four: setting up a stall, opening a shop, acting as a middleman, and reselling goods.

After listening, Li Wenguo didn't even frown: "Guotao, it's good that you have an idea. Our Li family isn't lacking in guts, nor are we afraid of losses. If you're going to do it, don't do it on a small scale. I'll call Guoding in Hong Kong right now and have him send people, provide the money, and set up the team for you—the whole package."

"If you need anything in the future, just contact him directly."

"Okay, thank you, Dad!"

Less than three days later, as Sha Zhu was squatting at the Xidan intersection eating a sesame seed cake, he looked up and saw a truck with a temporary "Shuxiangxuan" sign painted on it parked on the side of the street. Looking up again, he saw a five-story gray brick building with sparkling clean windows. Each floor was a full 1,000 square meters, and the property certificate clearly showed Li Guotao's name.

The renovation team arrived that same day, with plumbing, electrical work, carpentry, and tiling proceeding separately. Less than half a month later, the restaurant manager sent from Hong Kong arrived. He was in his forties, impeccably dressed in a suit, carrying a leather folder. His first task was to lead the team to take measurements, draw up the flow of traffic, finalize the menu, recruit waiters, and train them in greeting techniques.

A month later, "Shu Xiang Xuan" officially opened. The location was cleverly chosen, right across from Xu Damao Electrical Appliances City. The red plaque with gold lettering hung up, looking particularly bright under the shade of the plane trees. The name was decided by Sha Zhu—he said that Sichuan cuisine is spicy and flavorful, yet has a touch of scholarly elegance. "Shu Xiang Xuan" sounded good and was easy to remember.

How should the shares be divided? Sha Zhu originally said, "I'll just contribute my cooking skills, and I'll take 10% of the shares, enough to eat."

Li Guotao didn't try to persuade him further, but simply pushed the contract over: "Twenty percent, write it down. Plus two hundred yuan a month in salary—the chef is worth this price, not a penny more or less would be unfair."

The entire store cost over three million yuan, with the bulk of the investment going towards the land and building, accounting for 80%, all under Li Guotao's personal name; he covered the rest of the equipment, manpower, and initial operations.

On its opening day, following the "20% off everything" approach of Xu Damao Electronics City, Shuxiangxuan also put up a banner that read "20% off on the first day, free drinks." Li Guoxian, dressed in suits and ties, and his dozen or so scions of young men from the compound booked the entire second floor, their laughter deafening. Middle-class families came with their children to try it out, forming a 20-meter-long queue at the door. Even the old lady selling roasted sweet potatoes at the alley entrance stood on tiptoe to peek inside.

Sha Zhu hadn't straightened his back once since he started chopping minced meat at six in the morning. He emptied the soy sauce bottle three times and went through four woks. It wasn't until ten at night that he finally plopped down on a mahogany chair in the corner of the hall, wiped his sweat, and his hands were still trembling slightly.

"Guotao, how much did you make today?" His voice was a little hoarse, but his eyes shone like lamps.

Li Guotao handed over a handwritten receipt, a smirk playing on his lips: "Thirty-two thousand eight hundred and sixty yuan. After the discount."

"After deducting costs, the gross profit is 30%, and the net profit is a little over 10,000."

"At this rate, with a turnover of over three million yuan a year, it won't even take a year to break even."

Sha Zhu grinned, his smile so wide that his teeth were almost invisible, even his back teeth were showing.

In the days that followed, the restaurant was packed almost every day. The reason was simple: with Sha Zhu in charge of the kitchen, the shredded pork with garlic sauce was crispy and tender without being greasy, the mapo tofu was spicy and fresh, and the Kung Pao chicken with crispy peanuts and perfectly coated in sauce. Customers would eat there and then bring their relatives; after the relatives finished eating, they would invite their friends; and when the friends came, they would insist on ordering his signature "Premium Stewed Pork".

Li Guoxian was even more straightforward. For holidays, comrades-in-arms gatherings, and classmates reunions, he would always specify Shuxiangxuan: "I don't recognize any other place, I only recognize the smell of Shazhu's stove."

Those kids from wealthy families are extravagant; a single banquet can easily cost five or four hundred yuan, equivalent to ten meals for an ordinary family. If you cater exclusively to them, your business is halfway guaranteed.

While some people cheer, others are naturally annoyed.

Xu Damao's ten chain appliance stores in Shizhuang were doing well for the first month, with a turnover of seven or eight hundred thousand yuan.

But in the second month, troubles came one after another.

First, various inspection teams came one after another, rummaging through boxes and cabinets, picking and choosing, daring to bring up any problem—the shelves weren't polished, the price tags were crooked by two millimeters, the inventory slip was missing a stamp... Xu Damao had no choice but to grit his teeth and have his employees make changes according to the list, making changes again and again, until even the cleaning lady squatted by the counter to measure the spacing.

What came next was even more outrageous: they claimed that the gaps between the goods "did not comply with industry standards."

—What kind of regulation is this? The official documents from the Bureau of Industry and Commerce don't even mention "centimeter-level spacing"! It's just something they made up on the spot.

Xu Damao already had a pretty good idea of ​​what was going on, but he still didn't say anything. He moved all the shelves around and tried seven or eight different sizes, but the other person just waved his hand and said, "It still won't work."

Finally, they simply sealed the shop at the designated time and ordered it to cease operations for rectification.

He knew perfectly well that someone was pulling the strings behind the scenes. He didn't bother going to different departments to submit materials or plead his innocence—that would all be a waste of time.

He just sat in the shop smoking and waiting.

Sure enough, the day after the store closed, people came knocking on the door.

Three men in jackets and gold chains stood at the door and immediately offered to buy ten shops along with all their inventory for a flat price of one thousand dollars.

Xu Damao almost burst out laughing—this isn't a business deal; it's practically stripping you naked in the street, leaving you with nothing but the lining.

He refused on the spot, then turned around and dialed Li Guobiao's number, asking, "Do you know anyone in Shijiazhuang?"

"Hehe, no matter how much money you have, you still can't move an inch without connections."

In a private room on the second floor of the state-run "Spring Breeze Pavilion" restaurant, a man with a buzz cut crossed his legs, tapping his wine glass with his fingertips, and gave the group at the table a sinister smile. "Trying to make money here? We'd better skin you alive!"

"Exactly! Everyone knows the principle of not flaunting wealth, yet he rents shops, buys goods, and puts up signs with such fanfare, as if he's afraid no one will see how many coins he has in his pocket!"

The man in the floral shirt next to him smiled and chimed in, casually peeling a lychee and popping it into his mouth.

"How many days do you think he can hold on?"

"Five days at most." The square-faced man draped his arm over the back of the chair, his arm around the woman in the red dress beside him, and slowly exhaled a puff of smoke. "We can't leave Shijiazhuang, that's the hard truth."

On the first day, I bought it out for 1,000 yuan;

The next day, they simply broke the lock and moved the goods.

On the third day, they led men to block the back alley and took action.

On the fourth day, they waited outside the police station, ready to accuse him of "attempted theft" the moment he showed up...

He's getting tougher every day; I don't believe he's not spineless.

"Clang—!!!"

The door to the private room was kicked open suddenly, and the wooden frame bounced violently.

The group jumped up in shock, their faces still contorted with anger, but when they looked up, they were stunned—

It felt like someone had ripped out his spine, making him shrug down, and he even forgot to put out his cigarette.

"Young Master Ding!"

Several people hurriedly stood up, their voices tense.

Ding Shao strolled in with two attendants, didn't look at anyone, and simply sat down in the main seat, lightly tapping his fingers on the table: "I heard that someone has been eyeing a newly opened electronics store?"

Cold sweat instantly covered his forehead.

They immediately assumed that the man surnamed Xu had already climbed up to this Buddha.

"Oh my, I had no idea this place was under Young Master Ding's protection! If we had known, we wouldn't have dared to lay a finger on it even if we had ten lives!" The man with the buzz cut smiled, beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

"Right, right, right! Young Master Ding, why didn't you give us a heads-up beforehand? What's this called? Family fighting family, making a fool of ourselves, isn't it?" The square-faced man quickly chimed in, his mouth stretching to his ears.

Ding Shao glanced around and said in a flat tone, "The shop isn't mine. But from now on, I'll be in charge of it."

After saying that, he got up and left without even taking a sip of tea.

The remaining people stood frozen in place, looking at each other in bewilderment.

A storm raged within him: Just who was this out-of-town Boss Xu? How could Mayor Ding's son personally come to "greet" him?

That's right, this young master Ding is the youngest son of Ding Xiaoqi, the current mayor of Shijiazhuang.

Ding Xiaoqi was Li Wenguo's personal bodyguard back then. After Li Wenguo surrendered, he was ordered to lead his troops to garrison Shijiazhuang. After being demobilized, he first served as the director of the Public Security Bureau, and then, with the help of He Shuting, he eventually became the mayor of a city. He will be transferred to the provincial party committee next year.

A truly powerful figure.

Xu Damao was cornered and immediately called for help from Li Guobiao; Li Guobiao made one phone call and Ding Shao arrived that same day.

After the matter was settled, those previously arrogant "young masters" immediately set up a whole table of food and wine at Chunfeng Pavilion and personally presented Xu Damao with wine cups to apologize.

During the meal, the conversation was veiled, with the speaker subtly inquiring: "Mr. Xu, were you and Young Master Ding... acquainted before?"

Xu Damao didn't even lift his eyelids, only smiled and swirled his wine glass: "We've known each other for a long time, it's not good to go into details. Some things, those who understand will understand."

He neither acknowledged kinship nor distanced himself from the situation, but instead veered into a deeper, more ambiguous tone, deliberately leaving out half a sentence: "That old debt from two years ago, if it weren't for Young Master Ding helping to suppress it..."

Upon hearing this, the group felt a chill run down their spines—it turned out that the other party had already set a trap, but hadn't pulled it yet.

Although they are the sons of leaders of various bureaus and can be considered local tyrants, they are a whole level below Ding Shao.

Xu Damao later secretly learned that Ding Xiaoqi would be promoted to the provincial party committee next year. He was immediately alarmed and sighed inwardly that Li Guobiao's network was truly capable of covering the sky.

Later, Xu Damao hosted a private dinner for Ding Shao.

He was prepared to take a loss—even if it meant giving up 20% of his profits, he was willing to accept it.

To everyone's surprise, Ding Shao only drank and listened to stories the whole time. When he left, he didn't even smoke a single cigarette, let alone ask for anything.

Xu Damao was completely puzzled: Li Jiazhen was just a third-generation descendant, yet he still wanted a share of the profits; Ding Shao's father held power in the city, yet he didn't take a single penny?

Little did he know that the entire Ding family were already firmly established loyal followers of the Li family. How dare a servant lay a finger on his master's property? He'd be asking for trouble.

Years later, he witnessed Ding Shao respectfully pouring wine for Li Jiazhen at a dinner party in Beijing, and then bowing his head to help Li Guobiao with his chair.

It was at that moment that he truly understood.

After the storm subsided, Xu Damao breathed a sigh of relief and finally came to his senses.

Want to open an electronics store in Shijiazhuang? Money alone isn't enough; without powerful connections, you won't even get a scrap of food.

From then on, whenever he went to a new location to prepare for the opening of a new store, the first thing he would ask Li Guobiao was, "Is the relationship stable?"

If yes, enter immediately; if not, it's better to wait than to force your way in.

He was certain that the Li family's roots were in the north, close to the capital, and that as long as they asked, there was no relationship they couldn't reach.