Era: Rise from the Wilderness

"When will this road be repaired...?"

Li Yunjing's face turned pale. He gripped the handrail above his head tightly and couldn't help but mutter something under his breath.

In my line of sight, the poplar trees on both sides of the road and the village in the distance were shaking violently.

"I heard from the factory's field workers that the main road from the town to the county will be paved with asphalt next spring."

Li Hongfeng gripped the steering wheel tightly, his eyes fixed on the road ahead, trying to discern a relatively easier route. Hearing this, he casually replied, "As for the roads in these villages..."

He gave a wry smile. "I wonder when that will be."

"The village has no money, and the town probably can't help either."

Li Yunjing tried hard to recall the events amidst the violent jolts.

It seems that the road to Cuitun wasn't built until 93 or even 94?

I don't remember the specifics very well.

As I recall, the funds for the road construction project were insufficient at the time, so the town government and village committee launched a fundraising campaign. Government staff and village officials went door-to-door to mobilize people, saying, "If you want to get rich, build roads first."

It seems his family... also donated five yuan?

Yes, that's true!

The mother, He Ling, was quite reluctant at first, but she couldn't resist the other party's earnest words and eventually paid the money.

But who exactly contracted the project?

Was he the "Millionaire Ma" who later made his fortune in construction in town?

Or someone else?

Sigh, I was young back then and only cared about having fun, so I didn't pay any attention to these things.

Looking back now, all I remember is that after the road was repaired, things were indeed much more convenient; there was less dust, and the ride wasn't as bumpy.

After what seemed like an endless bumpy ride and dust, the car finally turned off the dirt road and drove into a seemingly ordinary northern farmhouse.

The yard was quite large, about 150 square meters. The ground was not paved, but compacted earth, and there were some firewood and scrap wood piled up in the corner.

To the north is a row of three connected bungalows with red brick walls and gray tile roofs. They look quite old, with old-fashioned wooden lattice windows and grayish glass.

At the entrance of the leftmost bungalow, there is a white plaque with black characters on a black background. The words "Cuitun Villagers' Cooperative Printing House" are written in slightly clumsy regular script, and the paint is peeling off.

This must be the place.

Li Hongfeng turned off the engine, and the annoying "poof" sound finally stopped.

The father and son exchanged a glance, both letting out a long sigh of relief. They unbuckled their seatbelts, opened the car doors, and got out of the car with somewhat unsteady steps.

Only when my feet are firmly planted on solid ground do I feel like I've regained my balance.

Before they even got close to the row of bungalows, the wooden door of the middle one creaked open, and an old man with gray hair, wearing a faded blue Zhongshan suit with rolled-up sleeves and reading glasses, came out to greet them.

He was not tall, his back was slightly hunched, and his face had the simplicity and caution typical of farmers. His gaze swept over the father and son and the dusty "Dafa" bread cart.

"Comrades, who are you looking for?"

The old man asked, his voice carrying a local accent, but his pronunciation was clear.

"Hello, sir!"

Li Hongfeng quickly stepped forward, a polite and honest smile plastered on his face: "Excuse me. We'd like to print some things, but we don't know if you take orders here? Who should we talk to?"

Upon hearing that it was a business opportunity that had come to his door, and that the man had driven there, the caution on his face immediately vanished, and he beamed with joy, the wrinkles around his eyes crinkling together.

"Take the job! Take it!"

"I am the person in charge of this printing shop. My name is Liang Yongshi. Liang means beam, Yong means useful, and Shi means real."

The old man introduced himself warmly, then gestured for me to come in, saying, "It's very dusty outside, please come inside and talk!"

Li Hongfeng and Li Yunjing followed Grandpa Liang into the middle bungalow.

The room was dimly lit and filled with a strong smell of ink and old paper.

Against the wall stood a dark, old-fashioned rotary printing press, next to which was a hand-cranked paper cutter and some scattered type trays and ink cans.

Several printed samples were posted on the wall, mostly in the format of simple letterheads, forms, or official documents.

The ground was made of cement, but it was stained black and gray in patches with ink.

Several workers wearing aprons stained with ink, who looked more like farmers, were busy working beside the machines. They looked up at them curiously, then looked down again.

"Uncle Liang, did you used to do this kind of work?"

Li Hongfeng looked around and asked casually.

"Hi, I worked as a technician in a printing factory in Bincheng for a few years when I was young. Later, my elderly relatives became ill, so I came back."

As Liang Yongshi invited them to sit down at a long wooden table with peeling paint, he poured them two bowls of boiled water. "I don't feel at ease coming back to farm. I always want to do what I used to do."

"A few years ago, the village talked about starting a side business, so I took the lead in doing this, along with a few hardworking and literate villagers. It's a way to generate some income for the village."

"The equipment is a bit old, secondhand, but it'll print simple things clearly!"

"The price is fair too!"

As he spoke, a look of pride mixed with anticipation appeared on his face.

Li Yunjing sized up the old man Liang, then looked at the simple environment and old equipment in the room.

Although I was a little worried about the printing quality, I thought that all I needed to print were simple raffle tickets, and the requirements for color and precision were not high. The key was to be fast and discreet, so this place seemed perfect.

Moreover, judging from Grandpa Liang's demeanor, he seems like an honest and straightforward person, and should be easy to get along with.

"Uncle Liang, we'd like to print some raffle tickets."

Before his father could speak, Li Yunjing stepped forward first, a smile typical of young people on his face, and spoke quickly and clearly, "Our factory is going to have an anniversary celebration. The factory manager said that we should print some raffle tickets to make the employees happy and create a festive atmosphere."

Li Hongfeng, listening from the side, felt his eyelids twitch and cursed inwardly: This little brat! He's a complete liar, lying without even blinking!

Another factory anniversary celebration?

The factory director?

Do you know who the factory manager is?

He could only feign composure and nod in agreement, but inside he was pounding with anxiety.

"A raffle ticket?"

"Which factory still does this for its employees?"

"Is it that state-owned enterprise in our town?"

Liang Yongshi was indeed somewhat puzzled. He pushed up his reading glasses and looked the father and son up and down.

The father was dressed in a suit, looking like a leader; the son, though dressed plainly, had bright, lively eyes, unlike an ordinary rural child.

"Not from our town."

Li Yunjing remained expressionless, his tone even carrying a hint of mystery and pride, as if revealing some incredible inside information: "It's a large Sino-Japanese joint venture factory in the Bincheng Development Zone! It has tens of thousands of employees!"

"A Sino-Japanese joint venture?"

Liang Yongshi's eyes lit up; this concept was absolutely novel and a symbol of strength at the time.