"Don't you believe it?" Fang Zhiyi said as he picked up a light bulb, connected it to the small device, and began cranking the handle. After a few turns, the bulb gradually lit up.
"This..." Lin Jianguo was astonished, but then he shook his head. "What a shame—it's just a little toy."
Fang Zhiyi grinned. "Yeah, just something I made for fun."
Lin Jianguo studied the young man before him. He looked much fairer now, bright and cheerful.
"I came to ask if you’d have time to come over for dinner tomorrow?" He had always wanted to invite his daughter’s savior for a meal, but hearing Lin Xiaowei mention Fang Zhiyi so often made him uneasy. His daughter ought to be with someone like a college graduate.
But later, when he learned Fang Zhiyi had turned down Lin Xiaowei’s invitation, he saw the young man in a new light. This kid had potential! He could’ve easily gained advantages by staying close to his daughter, yet he refused. Now, everyone in the factory spoke highly of him, and Lin Jianguo couldn’t help but take notice.
"Dinner?" Fang Zhiyi thought of Lin Xiaowei and shook his head like a rattle-drum. "I’d rather not. The cafeteria food suits me just fine."
Lin Jianguo was even more surprised. He’d even turned him down?
It stirred a competitive urge in him.
"Come on. I haven’t properly thanked you yet."
Fang Zhiyi replied earnestly, "Saving your daughter was the right thing to do—I didn’t do it for a reward. Besides, you brought me into the electrical machinery factory and let me work on what I love. If anything, I should be thanking you."
Lin Jianguo raised an eyebrow. "So you’re saying no?"
Fang Zhiyi just smiled.
"Ah, that pile of scrap metal is taking up space. I’ll have someone clear it out tomorrow." Lin Jianguo sighed and started walking away.
"Director, I’m free! Very free!"
Seeing Lin Jianguo’s triumphant grin as he left, Fang Zhiyi sighed inwardly. Was this man always so extreme? Couldn’t he just take a middle ground? Still, he needed to get closer to him. In the original storyline, Lin Jianguo was due for a promotion soon—though it wouldn’t end well.
When Fang Zhiyi arrived with a bag of fruit, Lin Jianguo nodded approvingly. "No need to be so formal," he said.
Lin Xiaowei greeted him with a smile and led him inside.
Watching the two, Lin Jianguo thought they looked well-matched. But then he remembered Fang Zhiyi’s family background and sighed inwardly.
"Xiao Fang, you drink, right? Have a couple with me."
Fang Zhiyi scratched his head sheepishly. "Uncle, I’m not much of a drinker."
An hour later, Lin Jianguo was slumped in his chair, slurring his words. Fang Zhiyi got up to help Lin Xiaowei’s mother with the dishes, but she shooed him away. After a few polite words, he left.
The next morning, a hungover Lin Jianguo stared blankly at his daughter’s displeased face, struggling to recall the night’s events.
"What’s wrong? Last night, after a few drinks, you made Xiaowei call Fang Zhiyi her ‘sworn brother.’ Don’t tell me you forgot?" His wife handed him a bowl of congee. "But I think it’s fine. That boy seems reliable."
Lin Xiaowei huffed and stormed out without breakfast.
Lin Jianguo sat frozen. He’d made Fang Zhiyi his daughter’s sworn brother? Really?
Fang's Mother had grown fond of visiting the county town lately. Fang Zhiyi treated her to meals, bought her things, and even gave her money. Her once-worthless eldest son now seemed perfect. She’d asked around and learned that the factory wages were about two hundred yuan. Yet Fang Zhiyi spoiled her with food, shopping, and even handed her a hundred and fifty. Wasn’t he the epitome of filial piety?
Fang Zhiyi also worked on reshaping her mindset, preaching about women’s independence and self-reliance. He even had fashionable accessories sent from out of town. Slowly, Fang's Mother began feeling her current home was beneath her. Fang Zhiyi even promised to move her and Third Son into his future company housing, making them city folk. She loved the idea and warmed up to him more each day.
Third Son was easier—Fang Zhiyi slipped him pocket money and encouraged his carefree habits.
The rest of Fang Zhiyi’s time was spent on his new project: a hand-cranked generator. The principle was simple—a DC motor, gear assembly, crank handle, nickel-cadmium battery, and a bulb socket. The challenge was keeping it compact, easy to crank, and efficient enough to power small appliances.
During lunch breaks and after work, he scavenged the factory’s scrap piles. An electrical machinery plant never lacked spare parts. He salvaged motor casings, gears, and steel rods, then bought wires from the sales department and had them fetch nickel-cadmium batteries from the battery plant.
His dormitory desk became his workbench. Fang Zhiyi focused intently—this device was his crucial first step.
A week later, the first prototype was ready. Cranking the handle lit up the small bulb! Though dim, it was enough for emergency lighting during blackouts. He even crafted a simple plastic casing to give it a finished look.
At a quiet street corner, Fang Zhiyi sat cross-legged behind his makeshift stall, displaying a few hand-cranked generators.
"Hey, young man, what’s this?" Finally, someone stopped to ask.
Fang Zhiyi flashed a grin. "A handy little tool." He picked one up and demonstrated.
"It’s a hand-cranked generator. Crank it during a blackout, and it’ll light up for over half an hour. Ten minutes of cranking gives you enough light to read half the night! Buy one, and your family won’t be left in the dark. Twenty yuan each, no bargaining!"
A crowd gathered, intrigued by the novelty.
The first man frowned. "Twenty? That’s steep. It’s not even that bright—a flashlight’s better."
Fang Zhiyi nodded. "You’re right, flashlights are convenient, but they eat up batteries. This costs you nothing—just a quick crank for temporary light. Think of it as a toy. And how much is a flashlight? Forty? Even the cheap ones are thirty. Mine’s just twenty."
People murmured in amazement, but no one reached for their wallets. Fang Zhiyi wasn’t worried—this was the early days of economic reform, and shrewd minds were everywhere.
Suddenly, a man pushed through, grinning. "Buddy, I’ll take them all."
Fang Zhiyi hesitated. "All of them?"
The man nodded, eyes scanning the generators, already scheming. People were like that—hesitant until someone else showed interest, then filled with regret.
"Hey, boss, sell me one?" The first man pulled out cash.
"I want one too."
The would-be bulk buyer panicked. "Hey, hey, these are mine!" He turned to Fang Zhiyi, still smiling. "Deal?"