Chapter Sixty-Six: What a Remarkable Talent!

“Seriously, Wang Ming, are you stupid? Our wire factory is over here—why did you go over there?”
“Li Lei, where do you think you’re going? This way, this way!”
“Wang Bing, have you lost your mind? The furniture factory folks are on this side—what are you doing over there?”
...
With the group leader from the cotton factory speaking up, others turned to look at Hao Jianguo as well, and so an odd scene unfolded.
One after another, different names were called out, but all referring to the same person.
Everyone’s gaze shot toward Hao Jianguo, and even Hao Qiang, standing in front of him, stared at his friend with a look of utter bewilderment.
“My goodness, did this guy take money from everyone?”
“Impressive, he’s clever all right. But that’s just not right—no honor, no integrity!”
“What kind of person does something like this?”
No one was a fool. In no time, everyone realized that Hao Jianguo had been playing both sides, taking money from every group.
In that moment, Hao Jianguo wished he could crawl into a hole and disappear. He had foreseen this outcome, but still, his shame was overwhelming.
In those days—actually, all the way until the 2000s—honor and trustworthiness still mattered deeply. To put it simply, it was a time when people laughed at those who were shameless, not at those who were poor.
Back then, the so-called “three turns and one ring” meant most families weren’t so different: maybe one had two bicycles and better food, another had just one and made do.
After all, many essentials still required ration coupons, and houses couldn’t be bought or sold—only exchanged—so the gap between rich and poor was negligible.
Of course, from 1985 onward, that began to change, and by the massive layoffs of the 1990s, everything would be different.
Making a living selling street snacks could be more lucrative than building missiles. Whether you could make money or had money would become the mark of success—the only standard that mattered.
“I—I’ll pay you back,”
Under the scornful gaze of the crowd, Hao Jianguo raised his head, face burning, and stammered as he spoke to Chen Huajiang.
His hands clenched his pant legs so tightly his knuckles turned white, his face as red as a monkey’s behind.
Chen Huajiang was speechless; he hadn’t expected anyone would exploit the loophole in his plan and take advantage of him.
He’d thought that, with the residential compound as a base, everyone from the same factory knew each other, so it would be nearly impossible for someone to sneak in from another.
Besides, people back then were earnest and upright; few strayed from the straight path—he never imagined something like this would happen.

And yet, here it was.
“I’m curious—which factory are you really from, and what’s your name?”
Chen Huajiang looked at him intently. There had been so many names—Wang Qiang, Li Lei—clearly none of them real.
“I’m Hao Jianguo from Factory 115, that’s my real name. I’m a grade-six master technician at the factory, but we haven’t been paid in half a year—there’s no rice left at home, and so, well—”
As he spoke, Hao Jianguo’s expression twisted with pain. He was genuinely afraid Chen Huajiang would demand the money back, so he spoke in hopes of winning some forgiveness, buying time until the factory finally paid wages.
But as the words left his mouth, his pride made his shame all the more unbearable.
“Ah, so he’s from Factory 115. It’s the same everywhere—our cotton factory hasn’t paid us in three months either.”
“A grade-six master technician? Even they aren’t getting paid anymore?”
“We’re all in the same boat. If our factories were paying us, would we be out here doing this?”
The workers nearby were moved by Hao Jianguo’s words, especially when they realized he was a grade-six technician. The sense of sympathy and shared fate was palpable.
Back then, workers had ranks. Skilled workers were called master technicians: grade eight was like the level of a department manager, grade six was akin to a division head.
Perhaps people in other professions didn’t feel it as keenly, but for workers, it hit hardest.
Chen Huajiang, too, was stunned—not because the other man wasn’t being paid, but because he was Hao Jianguo from the 115th Military Factory.
This fellow was a true talent—in fact, a remarkable one!
In his previous life, after being laid off, this man had started a small workshop making soap, and by pounding the pavement and hustling, had built a brand from scratch.
He eventually expanded into laundry powder and dish soap, becoming a household name in Nanming City and across the country.
Yes, it was Black Cat Household Products—Black Cat Dish Soap, Black Cat Laundry Powder, which even ran commercials on national television around the year 2000.
In his previous life, Chen Huajiang had little direct contact with him—one was in restaurant chains, the other in household chemicals, their paths rarely crossed.
But being from the same place, they likely knew of each other.
A real talent—what a talent! Chen Huajiang felt a surge of excitement; he was determined to recruit Hao Jianguo.
The more he thought about it, the more satisfied he was with having thrown money around to rally support—after this was over, he’d have to take a good look at those contracts; who knew what other talents might be hiding there?
“Hao Jianguo, we’re all workers here—your troubles are everyone’s troubles, I understand.”
“I’m Chen Huajiang, from the Red Flag Factory. Because our factory was underperforming, and I grew tired of all the scheming there, I decided to strike out on my own.”

“A few yuan is nothing—let’s consider it the price of our friendship.”
Chen Huajiang walked over, clapped him on the shoulder in a show of generosity, and smiled warmly.
The money was already spent, and it was well worth it—so why fuss about it? Better to leave everyone with the impression that he was generous and honorable.
“So Boss Chen is one of us, a fellow worker—no wonder he’s so generous.”
“Comrade Hao, you’ve met a good man—Boss Chen is a big-hearted person.”
“Hao Jianguo, after what Boss Chen just said, aren’t you going to thank him?”
The crowd burst into laughter and good-natured banter. In their eyes, even though Chen Huajiang had left the Red Flag Factory, he was still one of their own.
What’s more, after leaving the factory, Chen Huajiang had managed to do so well for himself—it inspired them with hope and longing.
At that moment, so many were lost and confused; Chen Huajiang’s story was like a shot of courage.
It meant that even if you left the factory, you could still make something of yourself.
“Boss Chen, actually, actually—”
“Actually, it’s not just a few yuan. It’s forty.”
Hao Jianguo’s face flushed even deeper with shame. The kinder Chen Huajiang was to him, the more guilty he felt. As he spoke, he slapped himself across the face.
The crowd that had been laughing now stood dumbfounded, staring blankly at Hao Jianguo.
Forty yuan was no small sum. The average worker’s monthly wage, depending on rank and years of service, ranged from ten to twenty-five yuan.
Ten yuan was for new hires, twenty-five for grade-eight technicians or factory directors. Even at the median, forty yuan equaled two months’ wages.
No one had expected Hao Jianguo to be so “bold”—to pocket two months’ pay in one go.
All eyes turned to Chen Huajiang. Forty yuan was not a trivial amount; everyone waited to see if he would remain as “generous” and “honorable” as before.
Deep down, most people assumed he wouldn’t—they were sure he’d demand the money back from Hao Jianguo.