Chapter Fifteen: The Middleman

After having a late-night snack and taking a bath, Lu Kun returned to the room he shared with Liu, where the couple sat together on the bed, counting their money.

One of the greatest pleasures after earning money was this very moment—watching the small pile of cash in their hands grow little by little. No matter how much hardship they endured, how much effort they spent, in the end, it all proved worthwhile.

Liu Liping had the habit of keeping meticulous accounts, recording every household expense and income with clarity.

A person who cannot save money surely cannot spend it wisely.

For anyone aspiring to build a business, having initial capital is crucial, for it’s the process of moving from nothing to something. Every bit of money must be used thoughtfully and with care.

After last night’s surprise windfall, Liu Liping had become much more composed. In the quiet room, the couple counted and recounted the small bills they’d made that night.

Though there were fewer river snails sold than the previous day, Lu Kun had cunningly reduced the amount in each serving of spiced snails just a little. Coupled with the earnings from selling popcorn, tonight’s income reached a new high—a historic sixty-two yuan and forty cents!

Liu Liping was almost beside herself with joy.

Her husband had only been out on the streets for two nights, and already their earnings matched what they would normally harvest from a whole year’s farming.

...

Life, however, had to go on. Their journey had only just completed the first step of a long march.

At the first crow of the village rooster, Lu Kun struggled to his feet, supporting his aching back.

With a rush, he relieved himself, and instantly felt refreshed.

Liu Liping woke as well, wanting to get up and make breakfast for him, but he persuaded her to stay in bed.

It was almost five in the morning. Even in the height of summer, the sky was still shrouded in gray, not yet fully light.

Lu Kun told Liu Liping to sleep a while longer.

After all, once daylight broke, she would need to take their two children out to collect river snails. He’d handed over this task to the three of them.

He didn’t mind how many snails they could gather; it was simply something to keep them busy.

Liu Liping was not one to sit idle. Without a task at hand, she would find something else to do regardless.

He brushed his teeth, washed his face, and got ready to set out.

Anyone with experience in the market knew that vegetable farmers brought their produce to sell at dawn. By the time the sky brightened, their baskets were already lined up in the marketplace.

As such, vegetable vendors had to rise even earlier than the farmers.

The early bird catches the worm; the earliest vendors snatch up the best goods!

Lu Kun took along the new steelyard scale he’d bought the previous day and a large woven sack from home, hopped on his bicycle, and set out through the morning dew.

When he arrived at the market street, he found that a good number of vendors had already secured their spots, some even haggling with farmers over prices.

At this time, most rural folk still didn’t have the concept of growing vegetables for sale. If they’d grown too much of something—so much that neither people nor livestock could finish it—they’d pick the surplus and bring it to market, rather than let it rot in the fields.

Growing vegetables wasn’t what made money for the farmers—the real profit went to the vendors.

These vendors had been doing business here for years, with a steady stream of customers. Their vegetables sold better than if the farmers tried to hawk them themselves.

Lu Kun parked his bicycle, set up his stall, and offered cigarettes to the man next to him. They weren’t fancy cigarettes, but in those days, people cared more about attitude than quality.

In business, it paid to make friends—there were plenty of advantages.

For example, Lu Kun and the neighboring vendor took turns “scouting for goods,” saving each other a lot of trouble. When one went off to bargain with a farmer, the other would look after both stalls.

“Hey, uncle, how much for your bitter melon?” A farmer had just arrived at the street entrance when Lu Kun hurried over. The slower vendors could only stop, disappointed.

There were unwritten rules among the vendors.

First come, first served: once a vendor was negotiating with a farmer, no others could butt in—unless the talks fell through.

Bitter melon, especially at this time of year, was notoriously hard to sell—doubly so for the farmers themselves.

The reason was simple: bitter melons were at their most bitter now, and most households didn’t have enough cooking oil to make them palatable.

Vendors understood “matching the dish to the customer,” usually recommending such attractive but difficult-to-prepare vegetables only to well-dressed town workers.

Lu Kun put his persuasive skills to the test, picking out fault after fault, until the farmer was almost trembling.

The other vendors, giving face to the new young man, let him have this batch—they knew full well bitter melon was tough to move.

Lu Kun offered an extremely low price. At first, the farmer stubbornly refused, saying he’d rather sell it himself. But not long after, the farmer came back to Lu Kun’s stall and agreed to his price.

He had no choice—no one else had even asked about his bitter melon. He was getting anxious.

In the end, Lu Kun bought over thirty catties of bitter melon for less than three yuan.

“At least I’ve got something to sell now,” he thought with relief.

While the man next to him went off to haggle, he asked Lu Kun to mind his stall and help sell to any customers who came by.

Lu Kun, in turn, asked him to keep an eye out for anyone selling river snails or loaches, and to bring them over if possible.

“Sister, would you like some fresh bitter melon?” Lu Kun called out with enthusiasm to a curvaceous woman passing by with her shopping basket.

The woman paused, a hint of doubt in her eyes, glanced over at Lu Kun’s stall and—seeing only bitter melon—burst out laughing flirtatiously. “Little brother, you’re selling nothing but bitter melon?”

Lu Kun only caught the first half of her words and couldn’t help but complain inwardly.

Good grief, a woman driver! And yet... how could she insult him like that?

Ahem.

Business was business. Women like this always had money, and as long as he could sell the bitter melon, he didn’t mind a little teasing from a beauty.

“How much per catty?” The woman adjusted her bodice.

Uh...

“It’s forty cents a catty,” Lu Kun replied, snapping back to reality.

Fortunately, the price bureau didn’t oversee this market, so he could mark up as he pleased—selling at four times his cost.

“I’ll take some, then.” There was a hint of flirtation in the air, and the woman’s cheeks turned red.

“Alright!” Lu Kun busied himself selecting the melons, delighted.

“That’s enough, that’s too much! There aren’t many people at home—I can’t finish this much,” the woman protested as he kept piling more onto the scale.

“Not too much! If you can’t finish them in one meal, you can save some for next time,” he replied with a wave, though he stopped piling on more. When he weighed it, it came to over five catties.

The woman looked a bit annoyed, but as more and more people began to notice their odd exchange, she simply gritted her teeth, paid, packed the bitter melons into her basket, and left.

Heh, that’s one sixth sold already.

She must have been flustered and miscounted—when he checked the money, he found she’d overpaid by fifty cents.

With just one sale, he’d already recovered nearly half his cost. Lu Kun was so pleased he started humming a little tune.

“Hey, young man, quite the lady’s man, aren’t you!” the vendor next to him teased with a wink.

Lu Kun’s face darkened.