The Game of Life TGOL

Chapter 66: Chapter 65 The Golden Age (Part 1) [Seeking Recommendations!!]

Translator: 549690339 !

Jiang Feng hesitated for three days.

He didn’t quite dare to open Han Guishan’s memories.

During these three days, he still went to Han Guishan’s house every day to make pickled vegetable dumplings, and Han Guishan did not lose his composure again, remaining the usually smiling Good Taste boss, but the painful expression on his face that day was deeply imprinted in Jiang Feng’s mind.

What sort of tragic recollection could make a middle-aged man who had been through thick and thin cry out loud so uncontrollably?

Jiang Feng considered himself not someone who could handle melodrama. If Han Guishan’s memory involved some sort of departure or death, and Jiang Feng couldn’t exit in the middle of experiencing it, he was afraid his heart couldn’t take it.

After making mental preparations for a full three days, Jiang Feng took a deep breath and clicked “yes” on the selection option.

Jiang Feng fell into a mist of white.

It was a train station.

Jiang Feng followed closely behind Han Guishan, dodging past people. Just as he was making out his surroundings, he found himself squeezed into the crowd. Although he could pass through objects, he couldn’t pass through people, so it was fortunate Han Guishan was in front of him with a sack in each hand. With Han Guishan paving the way, Jiang Feng managed to struggle out of the crowd.

Finally out of the train station, Jiang Feng breathed deeply, inhaling and exhaling the hard-won precious fresh air.

The air inside the train station was foul, not to mention the people who had been travelling for days without a chance to freshen up were a source of body odor, the smell of sweaty feet, and somewhat spoiled steamed buns and corn stuffed in their bags. The combination of these odors reminded Jiang Feng of Li Mingyi’s trash heap and Jiang Weiguo’s journey to Shanghai in the ship’s hold.

They were both memories of painful experiences he didn’t wish to recall.

The twenty-something younger version of Han Guishan, dragging his two huge sacks of goods, appeared somewhat confused at the entrance of the train station.

The sacks basically contained his family’s entire belongings.

At the beginning of the year, his dad had died from overwork, never waking up after falling asleep.

He left behind ten siblings and an elderly grandmother, his dad departing this world with injuries and illnesses.

His youngest sister was only 11 years old, and his grandmother was almost sixty. His eldest brother had wiped out the family’s savings to marry his sister-in-law, and the second brother was 27 years old and still a bachelor.

Shenzhen had developed rapidly in recent years, and people from other places were desperate to get in, with newspapers reporting daily that there was gold everywhere in Shenzhen. However, Han Guishan hadn’t felt it at all. Six years ago, the production brigade had set up a fishing hook factory with a registered capital of 74 yuan, which was collected from each household in the brigade.

Three years ago, a load of rice cost 29 yuan, now 29 yuan could only buy you a load of cornmeal.

Their family no longer had to worry about starving to death, no longer had to drink thin porridge every day until they were panicked with hunger, yet they were still poor. His mother was bartered for with two fish during the three years of natural disasters, and now twenty fish wouldn’t be enough to exchange for a wife.

Otherwise, he and his second brother would have married long ago.

He took all the cash from his family and went around different factories buying up some substandard and defective products-two whole sacks of them-tin frogs, toothbrushes, Sea Soul Shirts, teacups, all sorts of odds and ends. Now, there were only two hundred pounds of cornmeal left at home. If he couldn’t sell these things, repay the money, and bring it back home, his younger sisters might starve to death.

Han Guishan gripped the two sacks tightly, his palms sweating from nervousness, but he had no idea where to go.

Others went to Shenzhen to pan for gold; he had come to the hinterland to do the same. After buying his train ticket, he was left with only twenty-nine cents, not even enough for the ticket home. It was a desperate gamble, blindly buying a ticket to Shu, and now having left the train station, Han Guishan was at a complete loss as to where to go.

Jiang Feng had no idea that Han Guishan, standing there blankly in place, had so many thoughts running through his head. Since Han Guishan was stationary, Jiang Feng just wandered around aimlessly. There were plenty of street vendors at the entrance of the train station, mostly selling tea eggs and boiled corn, some selling drinks, and there was even a newspaper stand.

Jiang Feng glanced at the date on the newspaper.

July 6,1987-

“The winds of Reform and Opening have blown over the land…” The words of Uncle Benshan suddenly came into Jiang Feng’s head. Ah, it was all because he had watched too many spoof videos ordinarily.

No wonder Han Guishan was at a train station; he must have come from

Shenzhen to the mainland to sell goods.

Han Guishan observed for a while at the train station entrance and, seeing no one else hauling big bags of goods to sell like he was, decided to use the most straightforward method: acting like a peddler and going from door to door to sell his wares.

The result was pretty clear.

After a whole day, Han Guishan’s mouth was dry from talking, his shoes were nearly worn through, and he hadn’t sold a thing.

To speak frankly, with Han Guishan’s dry selling technique, outright stating his goods were defective and factory rejects, it would’ve been a miracle if he had managed to sell anything.

Moreover, this was a provincial capital; Jiang Feng saw from people’s eyes that they had little interest in Han Guishan’s goods.

Everyone wanted fashionable items like radios and watches, and Han Guishan’s sack was full of everyday items that provincial capital residents naturally did not covet.

Han Guishan sat at the side of the street gasping for breath, seemingly lost in thought.

He looked as if he was contemplating life.

“Hey, hey, I’m talking to you!” While Han Guishan was lost in thought, a female employee from a state-owned restaurant across from him stood at the door, calling out to him with a smile.

That female employee was Wang Jing, who was also Han Guishan’s future wife. Regrettably, Jiang Feng neither knew nor recognized her.

“Where are you from?” Wang Jing asked.

Now that small privately-owned eateries were popping up everywhere, business for state-owned restaurants wasn’t what it used to be; with no customers, Wang Jing was happily idling, so much so that she even ran out to chat with Han Guishan.

“I’m from Shenzhen,” Han Guishan answered honestly.

“From Shenzhen?” Wang Jing clearly didn’t believe him; Han Guishan looked like a country bumpkin on his first trip to the city, nothing like someone from the enviable Shenzhen.

“Forget it, let’s just say you are from Shenzhen. Were you just selling goods?

Wang Jing asked.

Han Guishan nodded.

“Who sells goods like you do, telling people that what you’re selling is defective and factory-rejected? How could you possibly sell anything that way?” Wang Jing laughed. Maybe because she found it worrying, or perhaps because she thought Han Guishan was interesting, she asked a few more questions out of curiosity. “What are you selling? Radios?”

“Ah, I…” Han Guishan, who usually didn’t interact much with others and only knew people from the production brigade, was completely caught off guard by Wang Jing’s casual familiarity. “I’m not selling radios. I sell toothbrushes, Sea Soul Shirts, towels, cups.”

“And iron tin frogs.”

“How do you sell these things, anyway? The streets are full of Sea Soul Shirts, and people from Shenzhen are selling radios, televisions, tapes, and celebrity portraits. The stuff you’re selling is available in department stores, and they’re even defective goods-who’s going to buy from you?” Wang Jing said.

Han Guishan felt as if he had been doused with a bucket of cold water. “Right, what did you just mention about iron tin frogs?” Wang Jing asked.

“It’s, uh, for kids; you wind it up and it jumps. Let me show you.” Han Guishan rummaged through the very bottom of his sack and pulled out an iron tin frog. Struggling to clarify, he simply demonstrated it for Wang Jing.

The iron tin frog was a novelty; Wang Jing wasn’t married but she had a nephew, and she was well-off from her job at the state-owned restaurant: “This thing is great, how much is it?”

Han Guishan stalled again.

Frankly speaking, he was suffering from a bit of social anxiety.

He had rushed to Shu on a whim, without giving the rest much thought. After spending the whole day without selling anything, he hadn’t even settled on a price.

He didn’t know how to set the price, either.

-One yuan and forty cents!” Han Guishan cautiously glanced at Wang Jing.

He had bought them for one yuan and twenty cents each, a total of twenty, figuring that earning twenty cents per frog meant a profit of four yuan on all; Han Guishan thought this was already a huge markup.

He was afraid that Wang Jing would find it too expensive.

“Or, how about one yuan and thirty-five cents?” Han Guishan tentatively asked.

Wang Jing burst out laughing.

“At this rate, you’re going to go broke! You could sell these toys for three yuan each out there, and here you are offering them for one yuan and thirty-five cents,” Wang Jing said, “the one yuan and thirty-five cent price was your doing, not mine. Don’t go back on your word after it’s sold.” “Uh… yeah, no going back,” Han Guishan was taken aback by Wang Jing’s suggested price of three yuan each; with that price, twenty frogs would net him thirty-six yuan—enough for the bus fare.

“Alright, I won’t take advantage of you. I’ll buy the iron tin frog for one yuan and thirty-five cents. I’ll treat you to dinner tonight. Master Jiang is in charge of the kitchen—you’re in for a treat. We’ll have Mapo Tofu and meat buns, which should cost over three yuan in total, so you’ve made a profit!” Wang Jing said as she pulled Han Guishan towards the door.

Han Guishan was baffled by Wang Jing’s words and followed her dumbfounded, dragging his sack behind him.

“Master Jiang, one Mapo Tofu and two meat buns!” Wang Jing shouted inside, then turned to explain to Han Guishan, “Master Jiang makes these meat buns big and tasty; don’t you think I’m stingy, they sell for fifty cents each!” Han Guishan sat down somewhat awkwardly and asked, “The iron tin frogs, selling for three yuan each, is that true?”

“Of course it’s true. Why would I lie to you? You should sell them outside the compound—these novel toys might even fetch five yuan each.”

Five yuan!

Han Guishan felt like he was about to lose the ability to breathe.

He couldn’t even begin to calculate how much he’d earn if he sold each for five yuan. He only had twenty iron tin frogs, but if he had forty, sixty, a hundred, or even two hundred of them, then the money for his older brother’s wedding would be assured, and he might even have enough for his own marriage.

If Jiang Feng could see what Han Guishan was thinking at that moment, he would probably die laughing-a future billionaire tycoon in his thirties, whose dream in his twenties was to save enough money to get married and to help his older brother do the same. What a fantasy-filled plotline.

“Are you really from Shenzhen?” Wang Jing asked again.

Han Guishan nodded affirmatively.

Wang Jing felt somewhat disillusioned with Shenzhen but persisted, “Is it true that everyone there lives in high-rises, owns TV sets, radios, and the streets are filled with cars?”

Han Guishan thought for a moment, “There are cars in the streets, but not everyone can live in a high-rise. My family has a radio but no TV set; it was bought by my older brother for his wedding.”

“Alright,” Wang Jing said with disappointment, looking at his two big sacks of goods, “What do you plan to do with these two big sacks?

“I’ll ask door to door; someone is bound to buy them,” Han Guishan could only resort to the most primitive method.

Wang Jing:…

“Forget it, let’s help you all the way through. This is the capital, so your stuff is not precious here, but in the counties, towns, and villages below, these are rare items. Our region is mountainous; there are many county-level towns that buses don’t visit, only accessible by foot. If you’re not afraid of getting tired, you can take a bus to County Yalom, then walk to the surrounding rural areas. You’ll definitely be able to sell your goods,” Wang Jing advised Han Guishan.

Han Guishan nodded thoughtfully.

As they were talking, Master Jiang finished preparing the Mapo Tofu.

Wang Jing, in a rare act of service, brought the Mapo Tofu and buns up to Han Guishan, along with a bowl of white rice. Having gone hungry all day, Han Guishan wolfed down his food, inhaling what was on the table so fast it was as if the wind had swept the remnants away—probably without even tasting it.

After eating, Han Guishan handed the iron tin frog to Wang Jing, carefully tucked the money into his inner jacket, picked up his belongings, and asked, “How do I get to County Yalom?”

“There are no buses now, it’s too late. The first one is at seven in the morning,” Wang Jing said. “You should find a hostel and rest for the night.

“I won’t take the bus; I’ll walk,” Han Guishan declared. His brothers and sisters were still at home eating bran and swallowing vegetables, whereas he had just enjoyed white rice and meat buns—how could he take the bus now?

“It’s a full sixty li from here to County Yalom; a bus ticket only costs two yuan.” Han Guishan didn’t even have two yuan.

Left with no choice, Wang Jing sketched a simple map on the table with water. Han Guishan memorized it after one glance and left the state-owned restaurant.

Almost at the same moment Han Guishan left, Master Jiang came out with the food, teasing Wang Jing, “What’s this? Have you taken a fancy to this young man?”

Jiang Feng turned around, and upon recognizing Master Jiang’s face, he was thunderstruck.

That can’t be possible!

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