Chapter Thirty-Four: The Deal

Ping'an Town.

The street at the entrance to the vegetable market.

At this moment.

Numerous vendors and passing customers in the marketplace were all discussing the recent surge in the price of sand ginger.

Three yuan seventy per jin!

Just a few days ago, sand ginger was only a few cents per jin, and now the price had skyrocketed several times over.

Everyone was exclaiming in surprise.

But.

They had no idea that this was merely the beginning.

No one could have imagined that this inconspicuous spice, sand ginger, would eventually be driven up to such heights.

...

Lu Kun was preparing to sell his stockpile of sand ginger.

A businessman cannot be blinded by petty profits; this was a fundamental principle of commerce that Lu Kun had understood in his previous life.

Those who always seek to squeeze the last penny inevitably end up trapped, unable to withdraw in time, and face a miserable conclusion.

In Lu Kun's plan, once the price of sand ginger rose above seven yuan per jin, he would begin to sell his stash.

After all, he was not a small trader.

Having hoarded over a hundred thousand jin of sand ginger, if he did not withdraw quickly, he might unwittingly become the scapegoat.

Profit was important, but preserving his life was more so.

Such price manipulation, if it attracted the attention of the wrong people, could turn him into a fat sheep ripe for slaughter.

...

1989—a year brimming with opportunity, an era of pioneering, where all walks of life mingled in the streets, a mix of the virtuous and the wicked.

Social classes had not yet solidified; every enterprise was growing wild like weeds.

Pedestrians on the roads were like horses galloping across endless grasslands, carrying boundless passion toward all directions.

It was an age where the bold thrived and the timid starved, an era of grassroots rising.

Heroes of all kinds were fighting to ride the wave of great social transformation, each striving for prominence in this surging tide.

...

Lu Kun was ready to sell his sand ginger!

The price of sand ginger changed completely within half a day.

The process of selling sand ginger was like walking on thin ice.

Lu Kun dared not sell within the confines of Gui A County, and certainly lacked the courage to sell in Ping'an Town.

Lu Kun drove his tractor, loaded with sand ginger, straight to the biggest agricultural markets in Fengyang City.

He had scouted the route ahead of time.

After all.

He was utterly unfamiliar with the roads in Fengyang at this time.

Many circumstances were different from his previous life.

As a prefecture-level city, Fengyang's roads were far better than those in Gui A County.

With the deepening reforms in the Shenzhen Special Economic Zone, its rapid changes also made some insightful people in inland cities gradually realize the necessity and urgency of economic development.

Everyone was feeling their way forward.

But building bridges and roads was a fine tradition in China since ancient times. Improving local infrastructure could never be wrong.

Lu Kun covered the back of his tractor with a thick black plastic sheet so that passersby could not easily discern what was being transported.

He hung a small piece of sand ginger on the tractor’s mirror—for those who knew, it was a clear signal.

He did not dare to drive the tractor directly into the agricultural market, as that would be too conspicuous; if trouble arose, turning around would be difficult.

Lu Kun parked the tractor outside the market, ready to make a quick escape if needed.

This was not only to avoid attracting the attention of certain officials, but also to prevent trouble from local thugs.

Thugs in those days were nothing like the soft-bellied braggarts of later generations, who shouted loudly but trembled and wet themselves when real trouble started.

Back then, the toughs were ruthless and cold-hearted, and it was not uncommon for disagreements to end in stabbings.

Even on the street at the entrance to the Ping'an Town vegetable market, Lu Kun had witnessed such scenes several times.

This was why he never allowed Liu Liping to help him in such places.

A woman simply could not handle such situations, and would only distract him.

Petty theft was rife on the streets; even if someone caught the thief, they dared not make a fuss and instead had to smile apologetically.

Of course, the vendors who made their living on the street for years were not saints either; if pushed too far, they would bite back.

Especially the pork sellers—fierce and burly, their faces covered in scars.

If the thugs tried to extort them, they might well be chased down three streets by a butcher wielding a cleaver.

Lu Kun guessed that Li Erniu had sworn brotherhood with the butchers to gain some advantage from their reputation.

...

A short knife was hidden in the seat cushion of Lu Kun's tractor, ready for emergencies.

"Young man, are you here to sell sand ginger?"

An old man in his fifties, seeing the sand ginger hanging from the rearview mirror and the black cloth covering the back of the tractor, handed him a cigarette and lowered his voice to ask.

"That's right."

Lu Kun took the cigarette, but did not light it immediately; instead, he tucked it behind his ear and replied in a low voice.

Although in those days all sorts of drugs had not yet flooded in and the cigarette was unlikely to be tampered with, some precautions were still necessary.

In his previous life, Lu Kun rarely smoked cigarettes offered by others.

When handed one, he would mostly tuck it behind his ear and look for an opportunity to discard it.

"How much do you want?"

The old man noticed the yellow stains on Lu Kun's fingers—clearly a habitual smoker—yet was not offended when Lu Kun refused his cigarette. He lit his own and began to puff away.

There was a hint of confusion in his eyes, but deep down, a flash of shrewdness and coldness.

This was a tough customer!

Lu Kun was on alert.

"Eight."

Lu Kun softly uttered the number, making a gesture with his hand, while his left hand quietly reached beneath the seat.

The old man's eyebrows twitched, and he exhaled a thick cloud of smoke.

"How much do you have?"

He did not waste words about the price being too high, but instead asked another question.

The more he acted this way, the more Lu Kun's heart raced.

This old man was almost certainly a henchman for the ‘ginger army’ behind the current price surge.

"Just this truckload left, sold the rest earlier."

Lu Kun feigned disappointment, swallowed hard, steadied himself, and answered calmly.

"Heh."

A shadow crossed the old man's eyes, but Lu Kun caught it as he watched closely.

"Young man, you're not being honest!" The old man paused for a moment, his face showing a seemingly gentle smile that carried no warmth.

"In these times, honest people either get trampled underfoot or wind up carrying a blade for others," Lu Kun laughed heartily.

"Kid, you've got guts!"

The old man's pupils contracted sharply; Lu Kun's heart was in his throat.

"Follow me—I'll take you at the price you just quoted," the old man said with a chuckle.

Lu Kun hesitated, then slowly shook his head. "No, let's settle right here, money for goods."

"Heh, you’re quite cautious for a young man..."

The old man said no more, signaling toward the market. A burly fellow emerged, carrying a large scale and a thick bamboo pole.