[153] Fate

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By the time Fang Chang'an learned what kind of “bitter fruit” he had brought about, he had already spent more than a month in Wenzhou and was beginning to prepare for the journey home.

Out of caution, a week after carrying out his “study supervision” plan, he had deliberately called Chang Wei. He learned that Li Meng had remained at home doing his homework and had not gone out even once. Rather pleased with his own cleverness, Fang Chang'an wondered whether, many years later, Wang Ke might happen to learn the truth of what had happened. What would her reaction be then? Would she find it amusing, childish, or perhaps happy and sweet?

He soon put the matter out of his mind and continued concentrating on persuading his parents.

Opening a shop in town was no trivial matter. A business had to open its doors, which meant they would have to live in town.

“If we live in town, where are we supposed to stay? We can’t exactly live with your uncle or your aunt, can we?”

“What about the fields at home?”

“What about your younger brother and sister’s schooling?”

Fang Chang'an had been prepared for his parents to be difficult to persuade, but he had not expected it to be quite this hard. After making a brief survey of the more than ten shoe factories in the area, he raised the idea of opening a shoe shop with his parents that evening—and was immediately rebuffed.

Fang Lujun even said sternly, “You just focus on your studies. Don’t worry about anything else. No matter how poor the family is, I can still afford to put you through school.”

Though Fang Chang'an had often produced astonishing results over the past year, in Fang Lujun’s eyes he was still a child. Now he had openly proposed a plan that could completely change the fate of the entire family. Though he presented it as a discussion, it still posed a tremendous challenge to his father’s dignity and authority.

Because the family was poor, Fang Lujun had always been especially sensitive about such matters. Ever since Fang Chang'an entered middle school and rapidly grew more mature, he had become even more wary of them, afraid that his wife or son might look down on him. On the one hand, he worked as hard as he could; on the other, he wished he could block his ears and remain unaware of any “accomplishments” his son might have beyond his grades.

From last year until now, he had maintained an attitude of deliberately turning a blind eye to Fang Chang'an’s steamed-bun business, pretending it did not exist. Every time he called, he would ask how much money Fang Chang'an’s school had cost and how much he needed to be given, thereby emphasizing that this son was still being raised with money provided by his father.

After the holiday began, in order to lay the groundwork for opening a shop, Fang Chang'an gave Cong Rong a rough idea of the situation—though not the whole truth, of course. He currently had fifty thousand yuan in his possession, all of it invested in stocks, but he told his mother that he had twenty thousand. Even that had left Cong Rong too shocked to recover for several days.

Her son was not yet thirteen!

What did it mean for him to have earned twenty thousand yuan in a single year?

Fang Luguo and Xu Jing had spent several years saving money, borrowed more, and still bought their two-story house for less than twenty thousand yuan—only eighteen thousand.

As for the first time Fang Chang'an had mentioned moving to town or the county seat, Cong Rong had deliberately exaggerated the difficulty in order to dissuade him from such an unrealistic idea. That was why she had said houses in town cost twenty or thirty thousand yuan.

After coming here, Cong Rong felt she ought to tell Fang Lujun about it. But he did not even let her finish. She had barely begun when he flew into a rage.

“Why are you telling me this? How much he earns is his business. I don’t care! Don’t tell me! What? Are you thinking of spending your son’s money?”

Fang Lujun gave her a furious dressing-down. Yet when he turned to Fang Chang'an, he became unfailingly kind and affectionate, even deliberately giving him two yuan and telling him to keep it so he could buy an ice cream if the weather changed the next day.

Cong Rong had not managed to finish telling him that their son had earned twenty thousand yuan before Fang Lujun lost his temper and scolded her. But in order to dispel his parents’ concerns and strengthen their resolve, Fang Chang'an naturally still had to tell them.

This time, Fang Lujun did not erupt as he had before. After a moment of silence, he asked, “Didn’t you say earlier that your teacher gave you two thousand yuan? How did it become twenty thousand?”

“Besides the two thousand, I also have a thirty-percent share. I contributed the idea and the planning, so it counts as a technical investment. That’s very common abroad and in the major cities of our country.”

“Of course, thirty percent is still quite a lot. That’s because Teacher Cheng and her husband are kind and fair. When I grow up, if I have the opportunity, I can repay them.”

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“Back then, you were planning to go out and work. Teacher Cheng’s husband, Shen Chengyan, said he wanted to form a partnership with our family and split the profits evenly. I felt that staying at home, even if I could make money selling steamed buns, wouldn’t lead to anything substantial. I was afraid it would interfere with your plan to go out and work, so I didn’t tell you.”

Fang Chang'an knew that his father was relatively tolerant of him. If he brought his mother into the matter, they might end up arguing again, so he simply refrained from mentioning that she already knew.

Fang Lujun said nothing.

Fang Chang'an continued, “Dad, working for someone else is just making money for them. Look at all these business owners here. Which one doesn’t live in an apartment building and drive a car? Do they do all the work themselves? Aren’t they relying on people from other places like us to work for them?”

“That shows that the money earned by the workers must be far greater than their wages. It’s just that the owners take it all. In the past, we had neither capital nor skills, so we could only work for others.”

“Now you’ve been working outside for nearly a year, and Mom has worked in a shoe factory too. We don’t need to know everything. We only need to understand the general market and avoid being easily deceived by those owners.”

“Opening a shoe shop is relatively easy. Especially in our town, we probably wouldn’t even use up ten thousand yuan. Houses in town aren’t expensive either; most cost only a little over ten thousand. If we ask Uncle or Aunt for help, or if I borrow a little from Teacher Cheng, we’ll certainly have enough to open a shop and buy a house.”

“You don’t need to worry about the business losing money either. Most of the shoe shops in our town get their goods from distributors. Their costs are high, whereas we can buy directly from the factories, so our prices will certainly be lower. The only problem is that our orders will be too small. It will be difficult to get a factory to produce a special batch for us, so we’ll have to piggyback on existing orders.”

“In other words, if a factory is about to produce eight thousand or twenty thousand pairs of a certain shoe, we can ask them to make a few hundred extra pairs for us to sell ourselves. The price they give us will certainly be higher than the distributors’ price, but it will still be lower than what the distributors charge other shops. We can sell them a little more cheaply.”

“You don’t need to worry about how we’ll sell them either. I’ve read quite a few books on the subject, and we can ask Teacher Cheng and Uncle Shen for help. Even in the worst case, all we’ll do is lose money. We can afford the loss. The steamed-bun shop will still provide us with income every month, and the stocks are making money too. Even if we lost all twenty thousand yuan, it wouldn’t matter.”

“If we make a profit, our whole family can move to town. Changming and Yanran can attend school there, and when they reach middle school, they can go to the county seat. You wouldn’t need to go out and work anymore. Even if you wanted to earn money elsewhere, we could open our own factory and have other people make money for our family.”

Fang Chang'an spoke for a long time, but his parents remained silent. He did not know whether they were seriously considering his words, so he could only continue.

“When Changming, Yanran, and I came here, it was the first time any of us had ever ridden a train. It took a full day and night, and it was miserable… I don’t want to sit in a hard seat again.”

Fang Lujun had not expected him to say something like that. He glanced at him, then lowered his head without speaking. In the shadows cast by the lamplight, his expression disappeared completely.

“When our family has money in the future, we can take sleeper berths when we travel. We can ride high-speed trains or take planes. In any case, we won’t have to suffer like this anymore… Mom gets carsick too. She vomits the whole time on the bus… Once we’re making money, we can buy a car ourselves. Whenever you want to go somewhere, you can drive Mom there…”

Another silence descended.

Fang Chang'an had truly exhausted every means at his disposal, appealing to reason and emotion alike. Fang Lujun and Cong Rong had clearly been moved, yet Cong Rong wiped away her tears and still said, “You’re too young. When you grow up and make something of yourself, you can earn a great deal of money… Your father and I have never had any ability. We were born to work for others and earn money with our strength… Keep that twenty thousand yuan safe. Save whatever you earn from now on too. When you graduate, use it to make money…”

Fang Lujun remained silent for a long while before saying, “Save your own money. The family won’t touch it. What do you think I’m putting you through school for? Your father can support you.”

For a moment, Fang Chang'an almost lost his temper. At last he understood deeply what it meant to love someone so much that one reproached them all the more fiercely, and what it meant to be pained by a loved one’s failure to live up to expectations. Yet he also understood that his parents had only just begun to step beyond their old world. Their horizons had broadened somewhat, but they had not yet witnessed enough change to shake the ideas rooted so deeply within them.

Only after they saw one person after another who had once dared to “take a risk” become wealthy and live better lives would they grow increasingly dissatisfied and resentful of their present circumstances—and regret their former timidity.

By then, however, it would most likely be too late. The best era would have already passed. That vanished golden age consisted, on the one hand, of the fact that Fang Lujun and Cong Rong were still in the prime of life, at the height of their strength, and on the other, of the countless paths to wealth created by the nation’s development and the great dragon’s ascent. As the country grew stronger and society advanced, such opportunities would certainly continue to appear. But by then, it would be another generation’s era.

After slowly drawing a breath, Fang Chang'an continued persuading them.

“Everything depends on what people make of it.”

“Are the business owners here nobler than the people back home? Everywhere has its clever people, and everywhere has its fools. Yet even the most foolish and incompetent locals here live better than the people in our region, don’t they? Aren’t they all business owners, living in apartment buildings and driving cars? Don’t they all bark orders at people from out of town?”

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“Why is that? They simply happen to live in a better place. They’re on the coast and caught the best moment of reform and opening. There are plenty of capable people among them, but there are also countless useless men, hooligans, thugs, and other worthless characters. Didn’t they all become business owners and wealthy people anyway? Why do the newspapers always report that rich heirs with no education or manners are idiots? How did they become rich? Are they all capable people?”

“China’s development from this point onward may be even faster than it was at the beginning of reform and opening—faster than at any other time in our history. In the future, whether someone can become wealthy won’t depend solely on where their family comes from. Those who dare to struggle will be able to make money, and anyone who truly wants to make money will be able to do so. If we don’t seize the opportunity now, then ten or twenty years from now, when we look back, we’ll discover that people who were just like us have become business owners and wealthy people…”

This was the longest and most important “family meeting” since Fang Chang'an’s birth—or, more precisely, since Fang Lujun and Cong Rong had married. It lasted more than two hours, yet Fang Chang'an still failed to achieve the effect he wanted. Fang Lujun and Cong Rong never managed to make up their minds, or rather, they never truly accepted his way of thinking.

Fang Chang'an was so angry that he slept badly that night. But they were his own parents. After being angry, he slept, and the next day he had to continue persuading them.

Over the course of the following month, Fang Chang'an brought out everything he had learned in two lifetimes. He argued eloquently, ranging from the ancient declaration that kings and ministers are not born to their station, to the glorious path of socialism; from the great rejuvenation of the Chinese nation to the stories of how this person or that had made a fortune. Some of those examples came from the news, some from hearsay, and some were entirely fabricated.

In any case, the method did not matter. So long as it could resonate with his parents and make them think, “If other people can become wealthy, then so can we,” it was a good method.

There were results, too. Several times, Fang Chang'an came close to being beaten.

Fang Lujun had acquired a secondhand television—perhaps even more than secondhand. It was considerably smaller than the large color television at home, but the cable service here carried many more channels, making it more enjoyable to watch. Fang Changming and Fang Yanran especially loved it.

Fang Lujun also liked to watch television after work each day and relax for a while. But with his son chattering incessantly about one thing after another, he grew so irritated that after dinner he stopped watching television altogether and went downstairs for a walk to escape the noise.

After finally enjoying two peaceful days, he found that on the third day Fang Chang'an began accompanying him on his walks.

Fang Lujun was tormented to the point of exasperation. At one point he was so furious that he nearly struck this unfilial son. Fang Chang'an simply stood there with the air of a man saying, “I’m your son. If you hit me, my body will hurt, but your heart will hurt more.” He boldly declared, “Go ahead and hit me, Dad. Hit me hard. Just don’t kill me. Once you’ve finished and vented your anger, I’ll still keep talking…”

After this happened several more times, Fang Lujun grew even more enraged and began pointing at him and shouting, “Get out! Go home! Leave tomorrow!”

Fang Chang'an glanced at his father without saying a word. He did not brush his teeth or wash his face. He simply returned to the room and lay down to sleep.

Fang Changming and Fang Yanran were somewhat worried, while Fang Lujun said furiously, “Leave him alone. Let him do whatever he wants!”

That was what he said, but in truth Fang Lujun was worried as well. He rose early the next morning and first went to look in his son’s room. There he found Fang Changming sprawled on the floor mattress, limbs thrown in every direction, while Fang Chang'an was nowhere to be seen.

Fang Lujun was startled. He thought that after being scolded, his son had really left on his own. He went back to tell Cong Rong, but she understood their son better than he did.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “He’s more sensible than you are. There’s no need to fret over him.”

Fang Lujun was still uneasy and prepared to ask for leave so he could go look for his son. But before he had even left the house, Fang Chang'an returned carrying breakfast.

“Dad, eat first. After breakfast, go to work. When you get off, the two of us can talk again.”

“Talk about what? Enough with the talking!”

A moment earlier, Fang Lujun had been as anxious as an ant on a hot pan. Now he wished he could chase this unfilial son out of the house. He had never seen a son like this—not even heard of one.

It was not until August that Fang Chang'an’s persistent persuasion finally began to bear fruit. Cong Rong was the first to relent and decided that they could give it a try.

Though Fang Lujun still stubbornly refused to admit it, there was no way the couple could avoid thinking it over and discussing it at night. In a sense, his wife’s concession represented a change in their attitude and outlook.

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