Rebirth: The Tumultuous Year of 1979

"Fifteen dollars?"

Upon hearing this, Lu Guoqiang gasped sharply, "My God..."

In those days, the average person's monthly salary was only thirty yuan, and only factory workers could earn that much. For educated youth like them who had just returned from the countryside, without jobs and just loafing around all day, it was considered good if they could get ten yuan a month.

Now, this radio is actually selling for fifteen yuan—equivalent to half a month's wages for a worker!

"Gurgle!" Lu Guoqiang trembled with fright.

Zhong Wei pointed to the radio: "In the department store, a good radio costs thirty yuan. Ours is a bit old, but fifteen yuan isn't expensive. The key point is—you can buy it without a coupon."

Back then, with the reform and opening up just beginning, it wasn't like you could buy anything just because you had money. It was still the planned economy era; grain coupons, cloth coupons, meat coupons… you needed coupons for almost everything – food, drink, housing, and transportation. For big-ticket items like radios and televisions, state-run department stores wouldn't even look at you without coupons. If you had the goods and weren't restricted by coupons, it would be strange if things didn't go well.

"If you have fifteen dollars, would you buy it?" Zhong Wei asked, staring at him.

"Buy..." Lu Guoqiang stared longingly at the radio, nodding like a chicken pecking at rice. Of the dozen or so households in their courtyard, only one or two owned a radio. If he really had the money, he would definitely buy it.

"From now on, you'll be in charge of finding those broken radios that are about to be thrown away. If someone is reluctant to throw them away and is willing to sell them, you can buy them back for a dollar or two," Zhong Wei said with a smile, seeing through his thoughts.

"Brother!" Lu Guoqiang nodded immediately, "I understand. I'll bring back the radio for you and fix it from now on..."

"Pfft!" Zhong Wei almost spat out a mouthful of blood. "Me, fix it?" He pointed to himself—dream on! He wasn't the kind of middleman who would fix things and then resell them; that was too low-class. Looking at Lu Guoqiang's honest face, Zhong Wei was so angry he almost kicked him.

"Take it back and find someone to repair it. You'll get two dollars for each one repaired, then sell the radio," Zhong Wei said speechlessly.

Lu Guoqiang was taken aback: "Brother, you're not kidding, are you? Of all the people I know, you're the only one who knows how to fix radios! Where am I supposed to find someone else?"

"Stupid!" Zhong Wei cursed.

"Uh..." Lu Guoqiang scratched his head, stunned. He was not angry at being scolded by this young man who was a year or two younger than him. Instead, he was convinced and felt that this man was his opportunity. If he seized it, he might be able to soar to great heights.

"Here's three hundred yuan." Zhong Wei took the money out of his pocket and threw it to him. "Take it, go rent a yard nearby, put the radio you collected in there, and then find someone to repair it."

"Ah! So much money..." Lu Guoqiang's arms sank, and he was stunned when he saw the ten and five yuan bills. He had never seen so much money at once in his life!

"Gulp!" He opened his mouth in shock, turned his head with difficulty to look at Zhong Wei, his eyes full of gratitude.

"Brother...this...this money..."

"It's nothing, just consider it seed money. Do as I say," Zhong Wei said helplessly. If he hadn't just been reborn and wanted to defy fate and prevent the Zhong family from suffering another calamity, why would he, the third young master of the Zhong family, be in this situation? But in order to make a lot of money in the short term, he had no choice but to use the Zhong family's name for now. In the future, he would definitely recruit talented underlings like Xu Hengda, Ma Xiaoyun, Wang Wanda, and Guo Fuxing, and have a cloud of fierce generals under his command... For now, he would make do.

"Brother!" Seeing Zhong Wei's face darken, Lu Guoqiang's heart tightened. But then he thought, what's the point of taking it back if no one can fix it? Just bury it like a treasure? He gritted his teeth and asked, "Brother, how can we find someone who can fix radios?"

"Simple," Zhong Wei said calmly. "Go to Tsinghua and Peking University, find science students, give each of them two yuan for repairs, and you can pick any number you want."

"This works too..." Lu Guoqiang stared wide-eyed.

"Hehe!" Zhong Wei's lips curled into a playful smile. In any era, students from Tsinghua and Peking Universities are always the cream of the crop. But in 1979—just a few years after the resumption of the college entrance examination—Tsinghua and Peking University students were among the most hardworking in history. They had experienced the most difficult times, some even so poor that their entire families shared only one pair of pants. Therefore, the two-yuan repair fee for a radio was very attractive to them, and many were willing to do it.

After giving Lu Guoqiang's contact information, Zhong Wei left the Lu family.

Just moments ago, he carried a "huge sum" of money—enough to buy an apartment in the Second Ring Road area, with future appreciation potential exceeding 100 million yuan. But now, his pockets are empty.

However, Zhong Wei was not worried. He believed that the money would double or even multiply several times in a short time.

"call--"

He exhaled a long breath and looked at the deep alley. Suddenly, a thought popped into his mind: What if I bought the whole alley in the future?

"hiss--"

Thinking of this, he gasped. In the future, a single courtyard house could easily cost hundreds of millions, or even billions, of yuan, and the value of an entire alley would likely be tens of billions.

"Tens of billions..."

Zhong Wei smiled slightly, "That seems like a good idea. We can connect all the houses together..."

Uh—he paused, wondering if this was too arrogant. Wouldn't living in a place worth hundreds of billions attract unwanted attention or even trouble?

He walked through several alleys and returned to a nine-story residential building—considered a high-end apartment building at the time. This was the dormitory area for government departments, and Zhong Wei lived here. The Zhong family's old house was a courtyard house, now mainly inhabited by the old man, while Zhong's father and eldest uncle usually lived in their respective work unit's apartment buildings.

Zhong's father is currently a deputy third-rank official in his department. He was allocated a two-bedroom apartment on the third floor, which is 70 square meters and has no elevator.

Zhong Wei climbed the steps.

"Snap!"

The door opened, and he went inside.

Mr. Zhong was away in Beijing on a railway research trip; Mrs. Zhong, who worked at the Women's Federation, was also away on a business trip to a neighboring province. During this time, he was home alone.

On the living room table, a red-headed document was prominently displayed.

Regarding the construction of railways nationwide…

Zhong Wei took a closer look and saw it was the national railway construction plan that had been released recently. He frowned slightly—this was during the early stages of reform and opening up, when the new leadership was decisive and efficient, and people across the country were full of energy.

In his past life's memories, although the country later invested heavily in railway construction, due to the backward technology and lack of foresight in the early stages, most of the railways built in the past ten years did not meet the operating conditions of later bullet trains and high-speed trains, resulting in a large number of sections having to be replanned and rebuilt, which wasted funds and slowed down the modernization process of railways.

Thinking of this, Zhong Wei's lips curled up slightly.

My father is in charge of planning, and he holds a position of deputy third rank. He can use the railway to advance his career to the next level.

He harbored a certain degree of "hoping his father would become a dragon." According to the trajectory of his previous life, his father would soon be transferred to the department with the weakest influence in the Zhong family due to a job adjustment, which would limit his development. Even after the Zhong family's decline and his father's unexpected death, he would still be a deputy third-rank official.

"In this life, I will never let this tragedy repeat itself."

Zhong Wei said in a deep voice.

He picked up the document and examined it closely; its contents were almost identical to those of his past life. The more he looked, the more his brow furrowed—the document was considered top-notch design by today's standards, but in his eyes, its limitations were also quite obvious.

He thought that perhaps he could be bolder.

"How about..."

With a sudden thought, he took a deep breath, grabbed the documents, and returned to his room, where he retrieved a stack of letter paper. Looking at these sheets of paper, which would be replaced by emails and electronic documents in the future, a faint sense of excitement welled up within him.

"Swish, swish, swish!"

He picked up his brush and wrote with vigorous, powerful strokes, like coiled dragons—this beautiful handwriting was inherited from his grandfather, Grandpa Zhong. Grandpa Zhong had spent his life in the military, achieving numerous military exploits, but unfortunately, he wasn't very literate, so he was extremely strict with his grandchildren's handwriting. Zhong Wei and his eldest brother from his uncle's family can both write beautifully with both pen and brush.

The First Railway Speed ​​Increase Plan

He wrote the title with effortless grace. This idea, which originally only emerged in 1997, was put into writing twenty years ahead of schedule. Decades later, this plan was hailed as the starting point for the take-off of railways in Country A and will be remembered by future generations.

Zhong Wei's wrist, gripping the Hero fountain pen, was already numb and sore. The blue-black ink seeped through the manuscript paper, mirroring the turbulent thoughts swirling in his mind. On his desk lay the "Six Major Speed ​​Increase Schedules of China's Railways," compiled in his previous life. The first speed increase was to 140 km/h on April 1, 1997, and the sixth speed increase was to 200 km/h on April 18, 2007… These numbers, etched in his memory, were now flowing from the tip of his pen into a "blueprint for the future" in 1979.

"The Velaro platform from Dongmen (Siemens), the 0-series bullet trains from Japan's Shinkansen, and the TGV-M from France..." He dipped his brush in ink and wrote down the key points in the "Technology Introduction" section: "Learn from the barbarians to control them—in the past, China's railways relied on 'introduction-digestion-innovation' to create the CR400 'Fuxing' bullet train, which was then exported to Africa and Southeast Asia."

The pen suddenly stopped. He stared at the words "Beijing-Tianjin Intercity Railway to reach 350km/h before the 2008 Beijing Olympics" on the manuscript paper, and his Adam's apple bobbed. In this era, even the word "high-speed rail" had not yet been invented, and what he was writing was not a plan, but the future of the Zhong family, and even the entire railway of China.

"Phew—" Zhong Wei put down his pen, his wrist feeling like it was made of lead. Accustomed to typing on a computer, suddenly gripping a fountain pen made his knuckles ache. He rubbed his wrist and walked to the window. On the red brick wall of the apartment building was a banner that read, "Unite and revitalize China," and in the distance came the cry of an ice cream vendor: "Creamy ice cream, three cents a piece!"

Unfortunately, he didn't have the funds to invest in Apple or Microsoft. His eyes narrowed slightly—in Silicon Valley in 1979, Steve Jobs was tinkering with the Apple I in his garage, and Bill Gates was writing BASIC programs for IBM. These future trillion-dollar giants were, at that moment, just "small startups." If he could have invested, he would have been a billionaire long ago. But the Chung family had strict rules. His grandfather, a veteran courier during the War of Resistance against Japan, held his hand before his death and said, "The Chung family members cannot make money through crooked means."

"The Zhong family cannot be ruined in my hands," he muttered to himself. In his past life, in Beijing in the late 1990s, many red families like the "Zhong family" fell into ruin because they "could not keep up with the pace of reform and opening up"—some guarded their old houses and waited for demolition, while others held onto their secure jobs and refused to go into business, ultimately being swept away by the tide of the times.

He turned and walked to the bookshelf, placing a thick stack of plans between his father's frequently read "An Introduction to Railways" and "Das Kapital." The three characters "Zhong Jianguo" on the spine were written by his father with a brush, vigorous and powerful. Zhong Wei's lips curled into a smile: "Dad, don't let me down this time."

"Ring ring—"

The rotary landline phone suddenly rang loudly. Zhong Wei strode over, picked up the receiver, and called out, "Third Brother!"

"Third Brother! Haven't seen you for days. The newly opened 'Red Coral Dance Hall' in Houhai opens tonight. Tickets are five yuan each. All the brothers went!" The person on the other end of the phone was Wang Kai, known in the circle as "Wang Er". He wore bell-bottoms and sunglasses. His father was a deputy third-rank official in the Transportation Bureau, and his grandfather was a second-rank official.

Zhong Wei stroked his chin—in 1979, the dance hall was a "trendy landmark," and young people were scrambling to get in to dance "disco," but you needed a ticket, which could fetch ten dollars on the black market. "No," he smiled, "I'll take you somewhere else."

Half an hour later, Wang Er arrived on a Forever brand bicycle, sunglasses hanging from the handlebars. The two rode through an alleyway filled with the aroma of fried noodles with soybean paste. Aluminum lunchboxes sat on honeycomb briquette stoves against the walls, and several naked children chased after them, shouting "Reform is here!" Zhong Wei stopped at the entrance of the courtyard house, number "Jia 12"—Lu Guoqiang had said a few days ago that his sister, Lu Xiaomei, needed a follow-up examination and he wanted to earn more money.

"This is it?" Wang Er scoffed, kicking a lump of coal against the wall. "This run-down alley is so bad you can barely park a bicycle. Where's the 'top-tier circle' vibe?"

"Knock on the door." Zhong Wei didn't explain.

Wang Er banged on the door, his voice booming, "Open the door! Are you checking my household registration?"

A curse came from inside the door: "Who is it? Looking for death?!"

The door creaked open, and a burly man with a thick beard, wearing work clothes and a "City Construction Team" badge pinned to his chest stood blocking the entrance—it was Lu Guoqiang. When he saw Zhong Wei, his eyes lit up, and he shoved aside the craning-eyed young man next to him, rubbing his hands together and grinning, "Brother! You're here!"

Wang Er stood there, stunned: "Third Brother, this...this is Lu Guoqiang? The one you fixed the radio for last time?"

Zhong Wei patted Wang Er on the shoulder: "Come on, let's go in and take a look."

In the east wing of the courtyard house, Lu Xiaomei was doing her homework, her pigtails covered in chalk dust. Seeing Zhong Wei, she stood up timidly: "Hello, Brother Zhong."

Zhong Wei took out five yuan from his pocket: "Little sister, take this to pay for your medical bills. If Brother Guoqiang wants to learn how to repair radios, I'll teach you."

Lu Guoqiang's eyes suddenly reddened. He clutched the money, his knuckles turning white—yesterday, the hospital pressed for payment of his hospital fees, and he had to kneel before the foreman to borrow three yuan. "Brother, I...I will definitely study hard!" His voice trembled.

Wang Er stood at the door, watching this scene, and suddenly felt that the sunglasses in his hand were a little hot. He suddenly realized that Zhong Wei had not brought him to a "run-down alley", but to the most real "vitality" of 1979 - some people were dancing disco in the dance hall, some people were repairing radios in the alley to support their families, and Zhong Wei was using a pen to draw a blueprint for "railway speed-up" on the manuscript paper, trying to pull both groups of people into the same future of "revitalizing China".

The loudspeaker outside the compound was broadcasting: "...The State Council has issued the 'Opinions on Vigorously Developing the Transportation Industry,' requiring the acceleration of railway construction to meet the needs of economic development..."

As Zhong Wei watched the icicles under the eaves begin to melt, a smile crept onto his lips—he knew that this "breakthrough" had only just begun.

"Third Brother, what... what's going on?"

Wang Er was completely dumbfounded; his eyes almost popped out of their sockets.

"Let's go inside and talk."

Zhong Wei nodded slightly, and Lu Guoqiang immediately bowed respectfully and led the two into a small courtyard house.

Once the courtyard gate opened, the entire view was revealed. The left and right wing rooms, with the central building, comprised the whole scene. This was a warehouse rented by Lu Guoqiang, specifically used to store the old radios he had collected.

Zhong Wei strolled in.

"Brother, please have a seat." Lu Guoqiang hurriedly brought over a stool. After Zhong Wei sat down, Lu Guoqiang quickly introduced, "Brother, these two are my brothers, Zhang Qiang and Xiao Hu."

He patted the two of them on the shoulder, gesturing, "Call me brother."

"Brother!" Zhang Qiang and Xiao Hu immediately straightened their backs and respectfully called out in unison.

Zhong Wei's gaze swept over the two men with lightning speed. Zhang Qiang was burly and imposing, exuding an air of authority; Xiao Hu, on the other hand, was about eighteen or nineteen years old, with sharp eyes and a capable demeanor.

"Hmm." Zhong Wei nodded slightly in agreement.

Lu Guoqiang smiled apologetically from the side: "Brother, I can't handle collecting all these radios by myself. These two are my brothers who would risk their lives for me, they're absolutely reliable."

"It's a small matter, you can decide for yourself." Zhong Wei said calmly, then looked at Wang Er, who was still confused, and introduced him: "Wang Er, this is Lu Guoqiang. I asked him to do something for me."

"Third Brother?" Wang Er was so surprised he almost jumped up. "What did you ask him to do? Why didn't you ask me to come along?"

"Heh." Zhong Wei smiled calmly and uttered four words: "Scrap collector."

"What?!"

Wang Er was struck dumb, frozen on the spot, his mouth slightly open, a gulp coming from his throat as he swallowed hard, his face full of disbelief: "Third Brother, you...you're not kidding me?"

In his mind, who was Zhong Wei? The third young master of the Zhong family! Although not the eldest grandson, the Zhong family was a top-tier wealthy family in Yanjing. With Old Master Zhong still alive, Zhong Wei's generation wielded immense power in Yanjing. Compared to the Zhong family, his own small business was utterly insignificant!

But now, this nobleman has actually admitted to "collecting junk"?

This stark contrast caused Wang Er's brain to freeze instantly, leaving him utterly shocked.

"That's right," Zhong Wei confirmed with a smile. "I asked Guoqiang to collect some old radios."

"Brother..." Seeing Wang Er's stunned expression, Lu Guoqiang quickly went into the house, brought out a heavy canvas bag, and carefully placed it in front of Zhong Wei. "This is the money I saved from selling radios this week."

Zhong Wei glanced at it casually and saw that the bag was stuffed with colorful banknotes, mostly ten-yuan and five-yuan bills, a thick stack that exuded the smell of money and the atmosphere of the times.

Wang Er glanced at it secretly and immediately gasped.

So many?!

"How much...is it in total?" His voice trembled slightly. Collecting scrap, can you really earn that much in a week?

"Brother, it's nine thousand seven hundred yuan in total." Lu Guoqiang untied the cloth bag and neatly stacked the money in stacks, his movements filled with reverence.

"Nine...nine thousand seven?!" Wang Er felt like his soul had flown away. He looked at Zhong Wei, utterly bewildered, and asked in a dry voice, "Third Brother...is collecting scrap really that profitable?"

He was completely dumbfounded. He, a so-called "third-generation" family, couldn't even save that much money in a year working hard at his own factory. Yet Zhong Wei could earn nearly a thousand yuan a day a week just by "collecting scrap"? In this day and age, a government employee's monthly salary was only thirty yuan! That money was enough for an average family to live on for several years!

"Gurgle!"

He swallowed hard once more, feeling his worldview being challenged like never before.

Zhong Wei frowned slightly, keenly sensing something was amiss. The profit margin on old radios couldn't possibly be that high. His voice turned cold, carrying an undeniable authority: "Guoqiang, the money's not right. You can't sell that many radios, what's going on?"

"Brother..." Upon hearing this, Lu Guoqiang immediately lowered his head, his tone tinged with fear. "You're right. This money... wasn't all from selling radios. I saw a young man from the south selling electronic watches in an alley. His products were good, but nobody knew about them, and his stock was all tied up. I thought there was a profit to be made, so I used the capital from the radios to buy all his stock, resold it, and made a fortune."

"Southerner? Digital watch?"

A glint flashed in Zhong Wei's eyes, sharp as a hawk's. In 1979, southern merchants had already extended their reach into the alleyways of the north! What kind of information gap and huge business opportunities lay behind this?

"What about that southerner?" he pressed, his tone surprisingly excited.

Seeing that Zhong Wei was not angry at all, but rather very interested, Lu Guoqiang boldly replied, "That man's name is Zhang Guoqing. We took all his goods, and he said he's out of stock now and has to go back to the south to organize another batch. He'll probably be back in Yanjing in the next couple of days. He'll come looking for us then."

"Good!" Zhong Wei slapped his thigh, a businessman's sharpness and decisiveness flashing in his eyes. "Listen carefully, next time he comes back, no matter what conditions he offers, he has to buy all the goods! From now on, he's one of us. If he wants to get goods, he must go through you, Lu Guoqiang, and then you distribute them to Yanjing, and then throughout the entire North China region!"

"hiss--"

Lu Guoqiang gasped, his scalp tingling from the grand vision Zhong Wei had described: "Brother, this...this is too big a deal! With our limited resources, I'm afraid..."

"Wang Er".

Zhong Wei's gaze shifted to Wang Er, who was still in shock.

"Third Brother, what are your orders!" Wang Er snapped out of his daze, his eyes now filled with undisguised admiration as he looked at Zhong Wei. Only one thought remained in his mind: My third brother is amazing! He can make a living out of a simple scrap-collecting job, earning nearly a thousand a day!

"Is your uncle the district head of this district?" Zhong Wei asked casually.

"Yes...yes, Third Brother!" Wang Er straightened his back subconsciously.

"hiss--"