Chapter Sixty-Six: Teaching to Fish Is Better Than Giving Fish

“Waa waa...”
The child, perhaps driven by hunger, was now crying so pitifully it tugged at the heart.
Lu Kun took ten yuan from his pocket and handed it to Li Qingquan. “Take this money and go buy something from the neighbors. Adults can go hungry, but children can’t.”
Li Qingquan glanced at his child, whose head was drenched in sweat from crying, and without further hesitation, dashed outside.
Lu Kun and Shitou gathered with the others, emptied their pockets, and scraped together a little over seventy yuan, which they handed to the woman.
“Sister-in-law, this is just a token from us. We mean nothing else by it—only that you might weather this difficult time and raise this little girl well. We’ll come back in a while. It’s getting late, so we’ll head back for now...”
...
On the way back, no one spoke.
Lu Kun and Shitou managed better; they had grown up with hardship, all too familiar with the sorrow poverty brings.
Sun Chengze and Liu Shixun, on the other hand, looked as wilted as frostbitten eggplants.
They had always known rural life was hard, but never imagined it could be so brutal.
Every time they closed their eyes, the image of that woman, crawling and writhing on the ground in heart-rending sobs, haunted them.
Back at Gui A County First Middle School, Lu Kun returned to his room utterly exhausted, not even in the mood to speak to his wife or his two daughters.
Everything about today weighed heavily on his mind.
Perhaps Li Qingquan’s family was an exception, but wasn’t this exception a vivid, undeniable reality?
“What should I do?”
Lu Kun lay back with his hands beneath his head, propped against the headboard, pondering how he might help them.
Li Qingquan’s situation was indeed unique.
Three daughters at home, two with intellectual disabilities, and the only healthy one not yet a month old. His wife was also immobile and unable to care for herself.
The entire burden fell on Li Qingquan alone—caring for three people.
He couldn’t leave Xiahe Village; even a brief absence would mean he couldn’t look after his wife and daughters.
Lu Kun could tell that Li Qingquan was a responsible man, unlikely to abandon his family. But with just two or three acres to farm, even after a year’s toil, it would be impossible to feed so many mouths.

The more Lu Kun thought, the more overwhelmed he felt, even considering simply giving them money.
But Lu Kun knew the wisdom: charity might relieve a crisis, but it cannot cure poverty. Giving blood only prolongs life; only by helping them develop self-sufficiency could he truly help.
“What’s wrong?” Liu Shi touched Lu Kun’s forehead. “You don’t have a fever, so why didn’t you answer when I called?”
“I’m fine,” Lu Kun didn’t want Liu Shi to worry about these things.
“Are the children asleep?” he changed the subject.
“Mm.” Liu Shi nodded softly. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
“I really am, just a bit chilled,” Lu Kun said, grasping her small hand, gently tickling her palm with his thumb.
Seeing that Lu Kun was unwilling to explain, Liu Shi didn’t press further.
In her mind, as long as her husband and children were well, then this was peace and contentment, the quiet blessing of ordinary days.
“Don’t catch cold,” Liu Shi tucked the quilt around him and spoke softly.
“Mm.” Lu Kun nodded, shifting lower in the bed, planting a kiss on her cheek.
...

Morning.
For once, Lu Kun arrived at the general manager’s office of Huakun Supermarket’s headquarters to handle business.
“Old Sun, what’s going on with this month’s numbers?” Lu Kun handed the report to Sun Bowen and took a deep drag of his cigarette.
Sun Bowen wiped the sweat from his brow and stared at the highlighted figures Lu Kun had circled, momentarily at a loss for words.
“Explain to me why our total sales keep rising, yet profits are falling? If I’m not mistaken, we haven’t run any major promotions at our Huakun supermarkets lately, have we?”
Lu Kun was growing anxious—could there be some shady dealings behind his back?
“Boss, this really isn’t our fault...” Sun Bowen braced himself, but Lu Kun cut him off before he could finish.
“Cut the nonsense and tell me directly—what’s causing such a drastic decline in profits?” Lu Kun had no patience for rambling; he just wanted the reason for the slide.
If this trend continued, how could Huakun ever hope to grow stronger? Staying afloat would be a miracle.
“Boss, haven’t you noticed how severe inflation is lately?” Sun Bowen, hearing Lu Kun’s words, felt a twinge in his jaw, his forehead wrinkling into a frown.

“So what you’re saying is, because of rampant inflation, our sales figures keep climbing, but our profit margins are plummeting?” Lu Kun was beginning to understand.
“Exactly!” Sun Bowen nodded, visibly relieved, even flashing a brief look of approval—only to remember he was facing his boss, and his expression immediately froze.
“Ahem,” Sun Bowen coughed awkwardly.
But Lu Kun didn’t notice, his thoughts already drifting into memories.
Something didn’t add up—in his recollection, the inflation rate in 1989 had been 18%, while the official figure for 1990 was only 3.10%. By rights, retail should be faring better this year than last.
“Boss?” Sun Bowen called out.
“Yes, tell me in detail—what difficulties is Huakun facing?” Lu Kun came back to himself and asked.
“Boss, retail has looked easy these past years, but margins are thin, especially for mid-sized businesses like ours.
Ever since the price reform in August 1988, when the state decided to deregulate the majority of commodity prices and let the market set them, there’s been a rush to buy everywhere and inflation has soared.
But in reality, neither we nor the factories are the ones truly profiting—it’s the speculators, the middlemen, who are skimming off the lion’s share.”
Sun Bowen hunched over, answering earnestly.
Lu Kun was beginning to see the picture.
His own success owed much to this “price reform.” Had the state not opened up, private capital would have found no loophole to exploit and drive up prices.
“And also, boss, our procurement costs are mounting fast. Daily necessities like sugar, detergent, and cabbage—once they hit the shelves, they’re snapped up in no time, but when we restock, the prices are barely cheaper than what we sold them for last time. It puts enormous pressure on our cash flow...” Sun Bowen’s expression was grave and sincere.
“So, what measures have you taken?” Lu Kun, now understanding the situation, raised an eyebrow and asked.
“Well... well... we did have a meeting about it. We think... we think...” Sun Bowen stammered.
“Out with it—stop mumbling like an old woman!” Lu Kun shot him a look. If the old dog weren’t at least competent, he’d have half a mind to thrash him on the spot.
“We think Huakun should stockpile as much inventory as possible. Also... we may have to lay off a significant number of employees and cut costs, especially on labor...” Sun Bowen, as if resigning himself, spilled it all out at once.