Tech startup: I really do make mobile phones!

Chapter 17 The Lively Bustle

At seven or eight o'clock in the morning, the stalls on the streets of Huabeiqiang were as lively as if it were Chinese New Year.

In the unrenovated old town, overhead wires crisscross the intersection, tearing billboards to pieces. Underground, crowds surge, with small carts delivering goods from the warehouse at the back and backpackers coming and going, asking for prices.

Sunlight filters through the gaps in the various messy billboards, casting dappled shadows on the ground.

The roller shutters of the street stalls were half-open, and the sounds of electric drills, creaking carts, laughter, and buzzing electronic devices mingled together.

Suddenly, a stall owner threw a "smoke bomb" onto the street, something that everyone seemed to have become accustomed to.

Soon after, the smoke dissipated, and the street near the stalls returned to normal.

At its peak, Huabei Qiang's stall, less than two meters wide, could fetch an annual rent of 20 yuan. You can imagine how lucrative the electronics business was there!
That so-called "smoke bomb" was probably just another unlucky newbie disassembling machine at that stall puncturing the lithium battery. I'm afraid I'll get a deduction from my commission next month.

Zhao Tiezhu pulled a creaking little cart, the handle wrapped with an unwashed rag, and the two boxes of 3.5-inch TFT resistive touchscreens on the cart bounced gently with his steps.

These two boxes of resistive touchscreens were high-end, high-quality items that Chen Mo and Zhao Tiezhu had carefully sourced from a junk dealer.

Before leaving home, Zhao Tiezhu wrapped the cardboard box with several layers of yellowed tape, and wrote "Fine Products" on it in neat regular script.

"Snowflakes fall to the ground and melt into water. Ya hoo hey ya er yo."

As Zhao Tiezhu walked, he hummed A Bao's famous song from Starlight Avenue. If he forgot the lyrics, he would hum a few lines: "Ya hu hei ya er yo".

The tune that came out of his mouth was completely devoid of its original melodiousness and gentleness. Every note was like a wild horse that had broken free of its reins, jumping around recklessly, and the rhythm was completely messed up by him.

"Sister, do you love the one who suffers? Ya er yo ya hu hei."

The lyrics, which were supposed to be a confession to his lover, were sung by him in a way that sounded like a bandit from Northwest China kidnapping a bride, even with a touch of humor, attracting the attention of passersby.

"I want to kiss you, it's making my heart flutter. Yahoo hey yahoo hey."

Zhao Tiezhu, however, was oblivious to those around him. His blue work clothes were worn out, the hem still fluttering in the wind. He was immersed in his own singing, pulling his small cart and humming to himself as he continued to walk along the bustling streets of Huabeiqiang.

Three years ago, when Zhao Tiezhu first arrived in Shenzhen, he was a simple, dull, and naive young man.

He was young then, and when he looked for work, he was turned down everywhere and could only do odd jobs to make ends meet.

If it weren't for Chen Mo's help along the way, allowing him to run errands for him in North China, this kid would have suffered a lot, and he could only swallow his grievances silently.

But from some point onward, as if gently pushed by the god of fate, Zhao Tiezhu seemed to have suddenly unlocked his full potential.

Now in North China, he has become a shameless, efficient, and even very adept at handling things, skilled machine disassembly and assembly.

Many successful food stall owners in North China admire him and want to offer him a raise to recruit him.

After all, a skilled disassembly and assembly worker is already a rare find in the top-tier markets of North China, and every boss treats their skilled workers like royalty.

It's important to understand that the efficiency and quality of disassembling a machine by a skilled worker and a novice are worlds apart. A skilled worker can extract about 90% of the valuable parts from a disassembly machine, but it's hard to say for a novice.

The key is that Zhao Tiezhu is also good at handling things, which makes him even more rare.

Chen Mo's Orange Technology workshop was able to successfully and openly establish itself in North China thanks to two factors: first, his mentor helped him obtain a production license; and second, Zhao Tiezhu worked tirelessly to rent premises, find second-hand equipment, and contact competitors to source spare parts.

However, many stall owners in North China were unaware of what kind of spell Chen Mo, a recent college graduate, had cast on Zhao Tiezhu.

The wages for skilled workers were around 2000, and even after increasing them to 2500, they still couldn't poach them.

In 2010, the average monthly income in Shenzhen was only around 2700 yuan, so 2500 yuan was quite a lot.

As for per capita income, those who know, know. Hmm! Chen Mo never expected that by considering his friendship with that rascal Zhao Tiezhu and paying him a salary of 3000 yuan, he would actually keep this "talented person" on his team.

So the reason why they can't poach talent is actually because their competitors are judging others by their own standards and have underestimated Chen Mo's bottom line as a boss.

Sweat rolled down Zhao Tiezhu's dark face. He went to the nearby convenience store and gulped down a glass of cola, letting out a loud burp.

His behavior seemed casual, but while drinking his soda, he was actually keeping a close eye on what was behind him out of the corner of his eye.

Not far behind, the stall owner was fiercely bargaining with the backpacker.

The backpacker, a junk collector, clutched a decent-quality secondhand motherboard and exclaimed, "Boss! I had a hard time finding this, you're offering way too low a price!"

The stall owner sat in a chair, legs crossed, a cigarette dangling from his lips, and replied disdainfully, "Your motherboard has plenty of problems. I'm already offering a high price. If you don't believe me, ask someone else!"

The two of them spoke to each other without giving in to each other.

Zhao Tiezhu noticed not the two people, but Old Wang, who was hiding behind the garbage collector backpacker.

He stood behind the backpacker, trying his best to straighten his body and hide his figure, but he didn't notice that while he hid his back, his large, three-year-old pregnant belly was sticking out in front.

In Zhao Tiezhu's eyes, this was nothing short of self-deception.

Just then, a passing backpacker caught a glimpse of Zhao Tiezhu pulling his small cart out of the corner of his eye, his eyes lit up, and he immediately walked quickly toward Zhao Tiezhu.

He circled the cart, his eyes fixed on the two boxes of resistive touchscreens, and said excitedly, "Brother! These resistive touchscreens look pretty good. How much for a single one?"

Zhao Tiezhu returned the Coke bottle to the black plastic basket, waved his hand casually, and looked somewhat indifferent.

"I'm selling this in bulk, not individually. If you don't need it, don't waste my time!"

The backpacker wanted to say a few more words, but Zhao Tiezhu had already pulled the cart and continued walking forward.

"Hey~"

Helpless, the backpacker could only watch Zhao Tiezhu's retreating figure, click his tongue, and turn back to the stall to find the resistive touchscreen he needed.

These backpackers did something similar to what Chen Mo used to do: they opened a small online store selling secondhand electronics products used by beautiful women.

As long as you offer low prices and can guarantee a certain level of quality, such small shops can still gain some customer trust.

Taking advantage of the commotion, Zhao Tiezhu slightly turned his head and quickly glanced behind him out of the corner of his eye.

Sure enough, Old Wang followed us furtively again.

That old rascal, he really couldn't hold back.

A sly glint flashed in Zhao Tiezhu's eyes, and then he pulled his small cart, slowly blending into the crowd.

Before long, he went straight to Old Zhang's stall.

"Brother Zhang!"

Zhao Tiezhu parked the cart, placed a box of resistor screens on the counter of the stall, and winked at Lao Zhang, who was fiddling with the circuit board.

"Brother Zhang! He's busy!"

Old Zhang looked up and saw his sneaky look, casually tossed the soldering iron onto the stand, and glanced at the street outside.
(End of this chapter)