164. A Letter from Shen Mo

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There was no ceremony for the shoe shop’s opening. Cong Rong simply opened the door, sat calmly behind a table, and waited for someone to come buy shoes. The first people to arrive, however, were not customers but neighbors from nearby shops, dropping in for a chat. Many of them had already come to take a look while the place was being renovated, so they stopped by now and exchanged a few polite words.

Not a single customer came all morning.

The cruel reality left Cong Rong’s determination to “prove herself” somewhat bruised. Fortunately, by noon, No. 1 Middle School nearby had let out. Although the school was closed to visitors, some day students still had to go home for lunch, and as they passed by, perhaps they had seen one of the little cards, or heard about the shop from their classmates, or perhaps they simply happened to notice it.

So they cast a casual glance inside.

No one came in. They had to get home for lunch first.

Cong Rong was a little disappointed, but she told herself not to rush.

A few minutes later, Fang Chang’an arrived by bicycle and relieved his mother, sending her home to cook while he sat behind the counter and read.

He had only been there for a while when Cong Rong finished preparing the meal. She hurriedly ate a little and soon came back to take over from her son. When she arrived at the shop, she personally witnessed the sale of its first pair of shoes, followed by its second. Two girls had come together and bought two pairs to take home, both priced at nine yuan ninety.

Fang Chang’an took their money, returning ten cents in change for each pair, and asked, “Would you like one card or two?”

There was a small blackboard outside the shop listing the prices and promotional offers. The two girls were clearly students from No. 1 Middle School and had probably learned about the cards in advance. They exchanged a glance.

“Two, please.”

“Just a moment. I need to stamp them for you.”

There were five stamps on the table. This was the result of Fang Chang’an’s paranoid streak. To prevent people from forging the cards and imitating the shop’s stamp, each stamp corresponded to one, two, three, four, or five pairs of shoes, making counterfeiting both more difficult and more expensive.

Seeing someone make a purchase, another of the students browsing in the shop chose a pair of shoes, this one priced at nineteen yuan ninety. He paid, had his card stamped, took the shoes, and left.

Cong Rong was delighted. Watching her son record the sale, she asked softly, “How many pairs have we sold?”

“Three.”

Cong Rong felt a little disappointed again. So she had not missed a single sale after all. Still, opening for business was a good thing no matter what. She stayed in the shop and sent Fang Chang’an home for lunch.

By the time Fang Chang’an reached home, Fang Changming and Fang Yanran had already finished eating and were watching television. Fang Chang’an scolded them a couple of times and told them to hurry upstairs and sleep. After finishing his own meal, he went upstairs for a twenty-minute nap. Then he got up, called the two little ones awake, and they each set off for school.

The evening was much the same. Fang Changming and Fang Yanran did not have evening study sessions, so Fang Chang’an had them watch the shop too, teaching them how to record sales and stamp the cards in preparation for shirking his duties in the future.

During evening study, while Fang Chang’an was doing his homework, Wang Ke slipped him a note. She was so furtive that he assumed it must contain something important. But when he unfolded it, it read:

Why do all the prices at your family’s shoe shop end in ninety-nine?

The girl gazed at him with the curiosity of a child waiting for an answer. Fang Chang’an pursed his lips, then wrote back:

Suppose you’re out shopping and see three pairs of shoes. The shoes themselves are about the same, but the prices are different: one pair costs nine ninety, one costs nine yuan, and one costs ten yuan. Which would you buy?

Wang Ke answered without hesitation:

The cheapest one, of course.

Fang Chang’an wrote:

Are you sure? Think carefully. Put yourself in the situation and imagine what you would really think while shopping.

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The girl seriously placed herself in the imagined situation. At first she was a little confused, but gradually she began to feel that she would probably choose the pair priced at nine ninety. There was a strange sensation to it, as though that pair offered the best value.

Fang Chang’an continued writing:

The same goes for three other pairs of shoes priced at fifteen, nineteen ninety, and twenty. Which one would you choose?

Wang Ke blinked, looking amazed. She wrote:

I might choose the one ending in ninety-nine. Why? The nine-yuan and fifteen-yuan pairs are obviously cheaper.

Fang Chang’an raised his eyebrows at her smugly. His boastfulness was almost visible in his handwriting.

It’s all knowledge. It belongs to a very profound branch of psychology. You’re still young. I’ll teach you more about it later.

“Hmph!”

The girl puffed out her cheeks and stopped asking questions. She had only been curious; she did not think there was any particular trick worth studying, much less understand the theory and value behind such pricing.

It was just like the way mobile phones in later generations were always priced at some number ending in ninety-nine. There was a reason for it.

After evening study ended, No. 1 Middle School did not close its gates. When Fang Chang’an rode his bicycle to the shop, he discovered that there were even more people than in the afternoon. Someone recognized him and called out when he arrived, “Brother Chang’an, are you here to buy shoes too?”

Fang Chang’an smiled and replied, “Yes. The shoes here are pretty good—cheap, no haggling, no rip-offs, and they’ll even be replaced for free if there’s a quality problem.”

The other person sensed something odd in his teasing tone. Only then did Fang Chang’an point toward Cong Rong and say with a laugh, “That’s my mother.”

“Oh, oh... Hello, Auntie!”

Although the school did not close its gates, the entrance to No. 1 Middle School was shut at half past nine, so naturally the shop soon emptied. Cong Rong tallied the day’s sales. They had sold thirty-two pairs in all, nearly half of them after evening study ended.

Nineteen pairs had been priced at nine ninety, eleven at nineteen ninety, and two at twenty-nine ninety, for total sales of 465.4 yuan. If they could maintain that level every day, monthly sales would reach fourteen thousand yuan.

But Fang Chang’an knew that was essentially impossible. Sales would certainly fall back in the days ahead.

The next day was Saturday, and they sold twenty-one pairs, most of them to students from No. 1 and No. 3 Middle Schools who lived in town.

On Sunday, the shoe shop experienced a brief explosion in sales, selling fifty-six pairs. Then, during the new week, sales plunged to rock bottom: only nine pairs, followed by an even worse Tuesday with just four.

Cong Rong, who had only just begun to feel optimistic after the first two days, felt as though she were about to have a heart attack. Fortunately, business gradually began to recover. By Friday, sales had returned to double digits, and on Sunday they once again sold more than twenty pairs.

That seemed to be the limit, however.

Cong Rong slowly worked out the pattern. On weekdays, single-digit sales were normal. The best business came on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, because the shop’s primary customers and target market were students.

When they had first chosen the styles of shoes, Cong Rong had not understood why her son had identified students as the target market. Now she finally understood a little. She was also beginning to grasp what he had said back then about such things as lighting and pricing. More and more, she came to understand the saying that knowledge was money.

From its opening on September 17, the shop operated for thirteen days during the entire month and sold 406 pairs of shoes, with total sales exceeding six thousand yuan. To Cong Rong, this was a tremendous success beyond anything she had ever dared imagine. She had originally thought it would take a year to recover the costs; now she felt they might begin making a profit within two months.

Fang Luguo and Fang Yan were both living in town, and they made a point of visiting as well. Seeing that business was good, they were quite astonished. Whenever they asked about it, Cong Rong, cautious by nature, did not tell them everything and answered with some reservations. Still, the fact that the shop could remain open was already a success.

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Business during the National Day holiday was about the same as on working days, or perhaps even worse. Cong Rong left Fang Chang’an to mind the shop and went home to harvest corn. In previous years, her grandmother, maternal grandfather, and younger uncle’s family had helped out. This year, even her younger aunt Fang Yan and her husband, as well as her elder aunt Fang Xia, came to lend a hand, creating a picture of harmony within the extended family.

When they had ordered shoes during the summer vacation, Fang Chang’an and his mother had already looked over the styles that would be produced later. They had not placed an order at the time, but judging from sales after the shop opened, they called the factory and placed another order. This batch consisted of a thousand pairs, though production still followed the factory’s existing schedule, so the entire order could not be made all at once.

During break on the Thursday after the National Day holiday, a staff member from the school mailroom came to Fang Chang’an’s classroom and handed him a letter. The envelope bore familiar, neat, graceful handwriting.

Shen Mo
No. 1 Middle School of the City

Dear Brother Chang’an,

I hope this letter finds you well.

Hee-hee, I didn’t use these two formalities incorrectly, did I? Can you understand them? If you can’t, don’t pretend that you can. Ask me! I can tell you when I write next time.

My parents have both been at home lately, and I was afraid they might eavesdrop if I called you, so I didn’t. I’ll write to you from now on. That way they won’t be able to sneak a look at our conversations. I’m clever, aren’t I?

I went out with Mom and Dad again during the National Day holiday. Oh, I went during summer vacation too, but I don’t think I ever told you. Wang Ke knows. On her birthday, the two of us called your house, but no one answered. Now confess—where were you off fooling around?

It’s already been a month since school started. I’m in Class One of the eighth grade at the City No. 1 Middle School, so don’t write the wrong class when you reply.

The City No. 1 Middle School is much bigger than our school—much, much bigger—and very beautiful too. There’s even a lake on campus, in the senior high section. There isn’t one in the junior high section, but I’ve been to see it. When you, Wang Ke, or the others from our class come here for senior high, I’ll take you to see it.

The students here are pretty nice. No one bullies me, perhaps because they don’t dare. I’ve met some of them before, and their parents are afraid of my uncle, so they don’t dare cause trouble for me. Some people even come up and talk to me on their own. I don’t like them behaving that way. I liked it better in our class.

Mom and Dad say they’re going to take responsibility for my education from now on. They can’t just spoil me and indulge me as they used to, so they’ve become much stricter. Well, not that strict. Most of the time they still dote on me.

Mom says I have to read two extracurricular books every term. She chooses a few and then lets me pick. I’ve already read many of them, but I haven’t told her. Hee-hee-hee.

There are exams here every month. They aren’t like the unit tests at our school; they’re proper exams, much like our midterms and finals. We took one before the National Day holiday, and today they handed back the papers. The head teacher posted the rankings. I came seventeenth in our class, which has fifty-four students. They’re really amazing here. I thought I could at least get into the top ten.

I heard the student who ranked first in the whole grade scored 738 points, losing only twelve. That’s higher than you! Of course, the papers were different. Actually, I think the papers here are harder, so that person may really be better than you. Don’t get complacent, okay? You have to study hard if you want to get into the City No. 1 Middle School. Don’t go back to spending every day ignoring your lessons, or you might end up like that little frog at the bottom of the well.

That last part isn’t really part of the letter. I’m not trying to lecture you—I put it in parentheses.

The City No. 1 Middle School also has dormitories and a cafeteria. I’ve eaten there. They sell so many things, and the food is much better than at our school cafeteria. One place makes braised pork that’s especially delicious. When you all come here, I’ll treat you.

If you sold steamed buns here, your business definitely wouldn’t be as good as it is at our school. y(^o^)y

Did I draw well? There are lots of other things I forgot to mention. When you write back, draw a few more pictures for me. I want to show off to my new classmates. ((^?^*))

Mom wants me to start practicing dance again, and piano too. I don’t want to dance, and I don’t want to play, but it seems there isn’t anything else to do. I want to go to your house and catch fish, but it’s too far, and I’d feel embarrassed going alone. Come over soon and take me fishing. I’m working hard to make new friends. Once I’m familiar with them, I can ask where there are any rivers. I’ll tell you when I find out.

Please tell Wang Ke and the others that everything is fine here, and tell them to study hard and not miss me too much.

There are so many things I want to ask you. You should know all the answers, right? Of course you do. I don’t want to write anymore—writing is more tiring than talking. Just tell me everything in your reply.

Yours,

May time pass more quickly,
so you can come find me soon.

October 11, 2004
Shen Mo, writing by lamplight

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