Flip the table and divide the family property! Take his wife and daughter into the mountains and eat

Zhao Shanhe looked at Zhang Dali, who was looking anxious, but did not reply immediately.

He took out a box of "Daqianmen" cigarettes from his pocket, pulled out one, and handed it to Zhang Dali.

"Brother Dali, have a smoke."

Zhang Dali was taken aback, quickly wiped his hands on his clothes, and accepted the gift with a flattered expression.

Zhao Shanhe took out another match, struck it with a "sizzle," and lit it for Zhang Dali.

This set of actions was polite and dignified, giving Zhang Dali plenty of face.

But then, Zhao Shanhe exhaled a smoke ring, his tone gentle yet undeniably authoritative:

"Brother Dali, I know your skills. You've been a worker for decades, and you're a master at your job."

"The fact that everyone wants to work for me shows that they think highly of me, Zhao Shanhe."

At this point, Zhao Shanhe paused, his gaze sweeping over the expectant faces, and gently shook his head:

"But this time, I'm truly sorry."

"The place is full."

These words were like a bucket of ice water, poured directly onto the newly kindled flames of hope.

"Full...full?"

Zhang Dali's hand holding the cigarette froze in mid-air; he didn't even feel the ash burning his fingers.

"Yes, it's full."

Zhao Shanhe flicked his cigarette ash, his tone calm:

"You see, there are only a few trucks. San Lengzi and his gang are loading and unloading, and the militia platoon is escorting them. The current formation is so cramped, there's not even room to insert a needle."

"If I hire more people now, I'd be letting down the old brothers who started with me, and I'd be letting you down."

Zhao Shanhe's words made sense, and his attitude was sincere.

But to Zhang Dali, these words sounded like a court judgment.

It’s over.

It's out of play.

The bravado of begging that I had just displayed vanished completely in an instant.

Zhang Dali lowered his head, looked at his worn-out cotton shoes, and his shoulders slumped.

The men behind him were even more miserable. Some sighed, and some turned to leave. The despair of being shut out of a good life was worse than starvation.

The pot of meat in the yard was still bubbling away, and the aroma kept wafting into my nose.

But now, the aroma only smells bitter.

"OK……"

Zhang Dali's throat tightened, and he lost all interest in smoking his good cigarette. He gave a bitter smile:

"Since it's full, then we're just not lucky enough to be here."

"Shanhe, I apologize for disturbing you."

Zhang Dali turned around, his back hunched, looking as if he had aged ten years in an instant.

"Let's go home and have some congee."

Just as this group of people were dejected and about to leave the courtyard,

"Wait a minute."

Zhao Shanhe's voice suddenly rang out. It was unhurried, yet exuded a steady and reliable quality.

"Brother Dali, we're not hiring anymore."

Zhao Shanhe took two steps forward, looking at the group of men with piercing eyes:

"But I have a few other jobs here, and I don't know if you'd be willing to do them."

"Other jobs?"

Zhang Dali turned around abruptly, his eyes lighting up again: "What kind of work? I'll do anything, even shovel manure, as long as I get paid!"

Zhao Shanhe laughed, pointed to the truck behind him, and then to Uncle Liu, who was sitting under the eaves smoking a pipe.

"I don't lack laborers, but I lack goods."

"out of stock?"

"Yes, leather."

Zhao Shanhe held up one finger:

"The Russians over there are short of furs; they'll take as many as they can get, as long as they're good quality."

Upon hearing this, Zhang Dali's eyes dimmed again, even though he had been full of hope.

"Shanhe, aren't you just making fun of me?"

Zhang Dali threw the cigarette butt hard on the ground and stomped it out.

"Who doesn't know leather is valuable? But it's not easy to get."

"Foxes and sables—those are mountain spirits! How could people like us possibly catch them?"

"Don't even mention that we don't have guns or dogs. Even if we did, we might not run into a single hair even after lying in wait in the mountains for ten days or half a month. We can't make that kind of money."

The men behind them also joined in the commotion:

"Yeah, Shanhe, those things are too clever. Last year, Old Li went into the mountains to set traps and lost two toes from frostbite. He didn't even see a rabbit hair."

That's the truth. If money were so easy to find in the mountains, everyone would be rich by now.

Zhao Shanhe looked at the group of dejected men and suddenly laughed.

He walked over, kicked a stone at his feet, and said casually:

"Who gave you permission to capture the sable?"

"What?" Zhang Dali was taken aback. "If we don't catch sables, what should we catch?"

Zhao Shanhe held up two fingers and waved them in the air:

"Grey squirrel."

"What?!"

A burst of laughter erupted from the crowd, as if they had heard some incredibly funny joke.

"Shanhe, are you kidding me?"

Zhang Dali pointed to the back mountain, his face a mixture of amusement and exasperation:

"Those squirrels scurrying all over the mountain? Are those things worth anything?"

"The year before last, I caught dozens and took them to the supply and marketing cooperative to sell. The buyers didn't even look at them; they only offered 15 cents for top-grade pelts! They wouldn't even take a single one with a bullet hole!"

"I went through all that trouble skinning and tanning, but it didn't even cover the cost of the gunpowder! In the end, I fed it all to the dogs!"

Others echoed this sentiment:

"Exactly! Those things are thin-skinned; they break easily with the slightest pressure. Nobody wants to buy them!"

"The supply and marketing cooperative said that thing can't be made into an overcoat, it can only be used to make a calligraphy brush, and it's worthless!"

That's the truth. The villagers aren't stupid. These things are everywhere on the mountain, but no one catches them because the effort and reward aren't proportional. They're only worth a little over ten cents a piece, and they have to be perfect. Who would bother catching those?

Zhao Shanhe waited until they finished laughing before his smile faded, and he said with a serious expression:

"The supply and marketing cooperative used to give 15 cents."

"That's because they don't know the industry, that's because they lack the channels!"

Zhao Shanhe took a step forward, his voice not loud, but carrying an undeniable certainty:

"It's cold in the Soviet Union. Their officers' overcoats and their wives' trench coats all need a light and warm inner lining."

"Sable is too expensive, and sheepskin is too heavy."

"Only gray squirrel fur is available—it's light, soft, and has a glossy sheen, making it the perfect material for linings! The demand over there is in the millions!"

Zhao Shanhe looked around at everyone and held up one hand:

"I want what the supply and marketing cooperative doesn't want."

"The supply and marketing cooperative gives 15 cents, and I'll give that amount."

"Five cents!"

Quiet.

A deathly silence.

The crowd that was just laughing and joking suddenly seemed to have been choked.

Zhang Dali's eyes widened, almost popping out of their sockets, and his voice trembled:

"How much...how much?!"

"Five cents!"

Zhao Shanhe said firmly:

"One bill is 50 cents! Two bills are a dollar! Four bills are two dollars!"

"As long as it's winter gray fur, and as long as the hide isn't rotten!"

"Even if it was clipped with clips or shot with a slingshot, a small hole is fine! The inner lining is pieced together, so it doesn't matter!"

"boom--!!"

This caused an uproar among the crowd.

Five cents a piece?!

These days, you can toil away in the fields all day for a meager living and only earn two yuan! The deadly work of carrying timber in the forest only pays five yuan a day!

And those gray squirrels are everywhere!

As long as you know how to set a trap, catching ten or so a day is as easy as playing around!

How much is that?

Five yuan!

That's equivalent to a strong laborer carrying timber in the forest all day!

Besides, this is a job that the elderly can do, and even teenagers can do it! If the whole family works together, they can easily earn more than ten yuan a day!

That's three or four hundred a month!

How much does a big factory manager in the city earn in a month?!

"Shanhe! You...you're not lying to us?!"

Zhang Dali rushed up and grabbed Zhao Shanhe's arm, his nails digging into his flesh.

"Five cents?! Cash only?!"

"Pay now!"

Zhao Shanhe pulled out a thick wad of ten-yuan notes from his pocket and slammed them heavily onto the millstone next to him.

"Snapped!"

That crisp sound was even louder than firecrackers during the Lunar New Year.

"The money is right here!"

"I, Zhao Shanhe, am making this clear: what the supply and marketing cooperative considers worthless is a five-cent treasure to me!"

"You didn't catch them before because they weren't worth much."

"Now, I'll show you the way. Those gray squirrels all over the mountain are like silver dollars running around everywhere!"

"I want as many as you have! There's no upper limit!"

Looking at the bright red bills, Zhang Dali's breathing became heavy, like a bellows.

The logic makes sense now. We didn't do it before because it was unprofitable. Now we're doing it because it's incredibly profitable! And it's such a high-profit margin that you can practically pick it up with a bend of your knee!

This isn't catching squirrels; Zhao Shanhe is throwing money at them!

"Mountains and rivers! So generous!!"

Zhang Dali roared, his eyes reddening.

He whirled around and yelled at the group of men behind him who were still stunned:

"What are you all standing there for?! Go home!"

"Find some wire! Make a snare! Get all the slingshots out of the house!"

"Anyone who can't catch a gray squirrel is destined to be poor!!"

In a flash.

The dozens of people who had been listless just moments before suddenly became as energetic as if they had been injected with adrenaline, and ran home like madmen.

"Erdan! Stop eating! Find your grandpa's mousetrap!"

"Wife! Hurry to the supply and marketing cooperative and buy all the wire! Buy it all!!"

In less than a minute, everyone had run away from the Zhao family's gate.

Looking at the suddenly empty doorway, Erga Zi, who hadn't said a word, was a little confused.

"elder brother……"

Ergai scratched his head, watching the group of people running away like madmen, still feeling a pang of regret:

"That gray squirrel... is it really worth 50 cents? We can't afford to lose money buying it like this, can we?"

Zhao Shanhe didn't say anything, but turned around and walked back to the stove, picked up a large ladle, scooped up a piece of stewed pork belly and put it in his mouth.

He chewed twice, swallowed, and casually wiped the grease from his mouth with his sleeve before looking at Ergaizi and giving him a sidelong glance:

"deficit?"

"Ergaizi, when have I ever made a losing deal?"

Zhao Shanhe pointed to the vast expanse of white mountains outside the window:

"Haven't you noticed? We've been harvesting fewer and fewer sables and foxes these past two months."

"The resources in the mountains are limited. Those creatures that have become spirits are becoming increasingly rare. If we rely solely on them, we'll eventually run out of resources."

Zhao Shanhe turned around, put the stack of ten-yuan notes back into his pocket, and patted Ergaizi on the shoulder:

"But this gray squirrel is different."

"This thing is everywhere on the mountainside; you cut it down and it grows back."

"Five cents?"

"Once we get to Moscow, this five-cent piece of leather can be exchanged for two or three dollars in hard currency!"

"That's outrageous profit! Do you understand?"

Zhao Shanhe threw the large ladle into the pot with a crisp "clang":

"Don't worry about the money, hurry up and eat."

"Once you've eaten your fill, clear out the warehouse."

"Tomorrow at daybreak, this courtyard will be overflowing with these crazy old and young men!"