Chapter Six: An Unexpected Outcome

Chen Huajiang could sense a subtle hint of intimacy in the air. Back before he had traveled to this place, he’d had countless encounters with women. Yet, ever since meeting Lin Jiayin—especially now, seeing her hazy silhouette—he found himself reacting in ways he hadn’t expected, though he managed to restrain himself.

“All right, I’ll go buy it tomorrow,” he said, turning his head away, worried that his self-control might falter.

The next morning, Chen Huajiang woke early and went to the department store. His father-in-law’s birthday was coming up, and he needed a gift. There wasn’t much on offer at the time, so he bought some pastries and a pack of Da Qianmen cigarettes for his father-in-law. The three of them—Chen Huajiang, Lin Jiayin, and their daughter—set out for her parents’ home.

Her parents were delighted to see their daughter, but when Chen Huajiang arrived, her father’s face soured, especially when he saw the gifts in Chen’s hands. He didn’t speak to him, and the meal was awkward and uncomfortable.

After the meal, Chen Huajiang escorted his wife and daughter home, then hurried to the place he had just rented. In 1985, it was rare for people to start small businesses; most establishments were state-owned—restaurants, hotels, everything. But after 1985, private enterprises sprang up everywhere like mushrooms after the rain. Chen Huajiang knew he had to seize this opportunity.

The place was shabby, but cleaned up, it looked quite decent. Daguang arrived and helped Chen Huajiang tidy the room.

“Brother, what are we planning to sell?” Daguang asked.

“What’s your specialty?”

“Braised pork, I’m really good at it. Should I make a portion for you to try?” Daguang was confident in his cooking.

“Besides braised pork, can you steam buns?”

Chen Huajiang was considering selling steamed buns and millet porridge in the morning, and braised pork dishes for lunch and dinner. The food in the canteen was dreadful, so people would surely be eager for something better.

“Buns are easy. Once we’re set up, I’ll make some for you to taste,” Daguang replied with a broad grin.

The place was simple, but once cleaned, it was quite nice.

“We’ll need some tables and chairs too. Here’s the plan: come early tomorrow morning, we’ll get everything ready, and in the afternoon, we’ll start experimenting,” Chen Huajiang said.

He wanted to test things out first.

“Okay, I’ll head home then.”

That evening, back home, Chen Huajiang took out paper and pen and began writing. Lin Jiayin leaned over, curious. “What are you writing?”

“We’re planning to sell buns. I’m calculating how much to charge for each.”

At the time, pork cost one yuan per jin, but Chen Huajiang wasn’t sure what price customers would accept.

“Do you even need to write it down? Fried dough sticks are ten cents each, so buns should be the same. Any more and no one will buy them.”

That made sense. One jin of pork could make twenty or thirty buns, plus other fillings. Calculating it out, Chen Huajiang realized he could make a fifty percent profit.

“What about the braised pork? How much for a portion?” he asked.

“I think fifty cents, depending on your serving size and how good it tastes,” Lin Jiayin replied, then went to the kitchen to cook.

Chen Huajiang noted down fifty cents as a tentative price, though he didn’t yet know the overall costs. He’d have to wait until he and Daguang bought the ingredients and did the math.

That night, the three of them squeezed onto a single bed again. After Duoduo fell asleep, Lin Jiayin complained, “I told you to buy a bed, didn’t I?”

“I was so busy I forgot. I’ll buy it tomorrow,” Chen Huajiang replied—not because he didn’t want to, but because he enjoyed this intimate atmosphere.

The next day, Chen Huajiang and Daguang got to work. By noon, everything was ready. Daguang set up the stove, rolled up his sleeves, and smiled. “Let me show you what I can do.”

He chopped the meat, blanched it, heated the oil, and moved with practiced efficiency. Soon, a plate of fragrant, appetizing braised pork was ready. Chen Huajiang eagerly grabbed his chopsticks and tasted it. It was delicious: rich but not greasy, with a perfect texture.

“This is amazing. I think we could sell a portion for seventy cents—fifty is too low,” he praised.

“Seventy cents is fine,” Daguang agreed.

As they ate, workers from the Hongqi Factory finished their shifts and were drawn in by the aroma.

“What’s that? Smells fantastic!”

“Braised pork, it looks so good.”

“Boss, how much is it?” They quickly surrounded Chen Huajiang and Daguang. It was lunchtime, and the enticing smell was irresistible.

“Daguang, can you make more? Let’s sell a few portions,” Chen Huajiang worried Daguang would be overwhelmed.

“No problem, once the meat’s gone we’ll stop,” Daguang replied confidently.

“Today’s a trial run—fifty cents a portion. In a few days, it’ll be seventy cents. If you want some, hurry up; we don’t have much meat today,” Chen Huajiang announced, setting up the tables outside.

They didn’t offer staple foods, but some people brought their own to work; reheating them at lunch and adding a bite of braised pork was a treat.

“Come, everyone, have a taste,” Chen Huajiang invited, placing the braised pork on the tables. People flocked over to sample it. The flavor was exceptional; soon, a line formed.

Chen Huajiang hadn’t expected such outstanding results. Their supply of pork quickly ran out. They didn’t dare buy too much, since they didn’t have a refrigerator yet and didn’t want it to spoil.

On her way home, Lin Jiayin saw the crowd and felt happy that Chen Huajiang finally had something to do. She didn’t disturb them, heading home to cook for Huanhuan.

After the rush, Chen Huajiang and Daguang sat in the room, counting their cash. They’d made fifteen yuan, selling thirty portions. The cost was around five yuan, so in just one midday session, they’d earned ten yuan—a remarkable profit.

“Brother, this is incredible! And that’s just lunch. If we make ten yuan a day, that’s three hundred a month—way better than working for someone else,” Daguang laughed, surprised by their success.

“That’s only from braised pork. If we add buns and millet porridge? My goal is a hundred yuan a day,” Chen Huajiang said, amused by Daguang’s wide-eyed reaction.

This was only the beginning.

“If that’s the case, we’ll be ten-thousand-yuan households in a few months!” Daguang’s eyes sparkled, regretting that he hadn’t invested. Still, Chen Huajiang had given him a share of the business, so he was sure to get a cut of the profits.