Fang Zhiyi said to the uncle, "Sorry, he made the offer first. If you need one, I can make a few more next time."
Hearing this, the man who had been pulling out money glanced at Fang Zhiyi. After the crowd dispersed, he didn’t leave but instead held onto a few hand-crank generators and extended an invitation: "Come on, let me treat you to a meal?"
Fang Zhiyi agreed without hesitation—he was broke, after all, and every penny saved counted.
During their conversation, Fang Zhiyi learned the man’s name: Yu Duoyu, a small-time trader by profession. He had originally come to the county town to sell goods but had taken an interest in Fang Zhiyi’s hand-crank generators after spotting them.
"To be honest, these things—if I take them to the provincial capital, I can sell them for at least forty each," Yu Duoyu said cheerfully.
Fang Zhiyi didn’t respond, simply sipping his soup.
Yu Duoyu felt awkward. "Aren’t you going to ask why?" He had expected Fang Zhiyi to express surprise, press for details, or even regret his pricing—anything but silence.
"I don’t have much to ask. You just want to collaborate, right? I produce, you sell?" Fang Zhiyi pointed at the factory logo on his chest. "You’ve probably figured out I’m from the electromechanical factory, so you assume I have the production capacity and credibility."
Yu Duoyu was taken aback, reassessing the young man before him.
By the end of the meal, the two had reached a preliminary agreement.
The earnings from selling the hand-crank generators—just a hundred yuan—were far from enough for Fang Zhiyi.
That evening, he invited a few people over: Engineer Liu and Engineer Wang from the workshop, Senior Li and Junior Li from the technical department, and Fu Chunmei from the sales team. Seated around the table, they were puzzled. Though Fang Zhiyi got along well with them, this was the first time he’d treated them to a meal at a state-run restaurant.
As plate after plate of hearty dishes and a bottle of local liquor were served, Senior Li couldn’t hold back: "Fang Zhiyi, what’s the occasion? Your birthday?"
Fang Zhiyi shook his head. "No, just eat up."
Fu Chunmei didn’t touch her chopsticks. As a salesperson, she’d seen her share of schemes. Half-jokingly, she said, "If you don’t explain, we can’t eat in good conscience. Once it’s down, it’s not coming back up."
Hearing this, Engineer Liu, who had already picked up his chopsticks, set them back down.
Fang Zhiyi sighed. "You’re all this wary of me?"
Under their collective gaze, he decided to lay his cards on the table. "Alright, I do have something to discuss with you. Of course, it’s up to you whether you want in." These five were people he’d carefully selected—reliable in both character and skill.
"I’ve got a side gig—making small gadgets. Nothing complicated, just assembly work. If you’re willing to help, we’ll pay per piece. What do you think?"
Silence fell over the table.
The factory’s workload was light, leaving workers with plenty of free time. With meager monthly wages, everyone was eager to earn extra. Senior Li and Junior Li were saving up for marriage, Engineer Liu and Engineer Wang needed money for their kids, and Fu Chunmei was particularly money-driven—all details Fang Zhiyi had subtly gathered.
"We’re in!" The Li brothers were the first to agree. "We thought it was something serious. A side hustle isn’t illegal."
Engineer Liu took a sip of liquor. "The factory doesn’t forbid side jobs anyway. They’re even encouraging economic flexibility these days."
Fu Chunmei still hesitated. "I don’t know the technical stuff."
Fang Zhiyi smiled. "No problem. Just promote our products during your sales rounds."
Fu Chunmei bit her lip. "What kind of products?"
Fang Zhiyi gestured for her to eat first. She downed her drink in one go.
After the meal, Fang Zhiyi led them to a secluded storage shed. Inside, the space was cluttered. After some rummaging, he pulled out the last remaining hand-crank generator. Night had fallen, and as he turned the crank, the bulb gradually lit up, illuminating their faces.
With manpower secured, Fang Zhiyi’s workload lightened. He only needed to provide improved blueprints. To avoid raising suspicions, he also bought up the factory’s discarded spare parts. By now, Lin Jianguo had been promoted to deputy director, with the former deputy transferred out. The old director was semi-retired, leaving Lin Jianguo effectively in charge.
The rented storage shed operated smoothly. The team worked assembly lines during evenings and weekends, tweaking imperfect parts on factory equipment during shifts.
Fu Chunmei spent her breaks canvassing nearby counties and cities, adopting what Fang Zhiyi called a "distributor" model—securing agents in private stores.
"Fang Zhiyi, be honest—do you still want to be a worker?" Lin Jianguo asked the distracted young man.
Fang Zhiyi snapped back to attention. "Huh? Of course."
Lin Jianguo frowned. "I’ve heard your side income surpasses your wages. How long before you quit?"
Fang Zhiyi met his gaze. "Lin Jianguo, what do you think the factory’s future holds?" Heard from whom? Probably Lin Xiaowei—that girl’s always tailing me.
Lin Jianguo looked puzzled. "What else? Grow stronger, serve the people."
Fang Zhiyi shook his head. "Economically speaking, the current model is temporary. Sooner or later, the factory will struggle. You’re management—you know the books. How much is tied up in unpaid debts? Where does our revenue really come from? What happens when the market saturates? What about after reforms?"
Lin Jianguo froze, reassessing the young man before him. He was nothing like the person he’d first met. As for his claims… Lin Jianguo frowned. He had heard murmurs about reforms up north, but their validity was unclear.
"Don’t spout nonsense. Focus on your job."
Fang Zhiyi nodded. "Understood."
After Fang Zhiyi left, Lin Jianguo stared blankly at his notebook. He’d always charged ahead without looking back—until Fang Zhiyi’s words pierced through something unspoken.
Someone came looking for Fang Zhiyi, but it was an unexpected visitor: Second Son.
Glaring at his older brother—now clean, well-fed, and noticeably healthier—he said coldly, "Dad sent me to fetch you."
"Where’s Mom?" Fang Zhiyi glanced around.
"Mom didn’t come. Dad and Mom fought—badly." Second Son scrutinized his estranged brother, hostility lacing his tone.
"Oh? A fight? Why?" Fang Zhiyi was genuinely curious. He hadn’t even made his move yet.
"You have the nerve to ask?" Second Son’s eyes burned with anger.