Courtyard House: A Prosperous and Joyful Life

During the renovation, Guo Hongbing, Li Xiangdong, Luo Xuenong, and Tang Xiaoshan couldn't stay indoors and had to move to the yard to assemble the antenna. Fortunately, the yard was spacious, so it wasn't a problem, although it was a bit chilly when the wind blew.

Wang Jun and his partners were busily moving things from the house into the yard when Bang Geng swaggered over, looking quite smug. Last night, the courtyard owners had discussed it: Qin Huairu contributed three thousand, Yi Zhonghai four thousand, totaling seven thousand yuan, which they gave to Bang Geng to open a decent restaurant. Seven thousand yuan was a huge sum these days, more than enough to open a respectable establishment.

With this money, Banggeng's mind was filled with images of himself being his own boss and reaching the pinnacle of life. He walked with a swagger and looked down on everyone. He raised his chin at Wang Jun and said, "Wang Jun, I'm going to start a business. You wait, in less than two months, I'll be making more money than you!" He was convinced that he would make a fortune as soon as the restaurant opened and didn't take Wang Jun seriously at all.

Wang Jun laughed out loud: "You're ridiculous! You didn't even finish elementary school, and you dare to do business? Believe me, you'll lose everything."

Bang Geng's face darkened instantly. He'd dropped out of school early and hated having this topic mentioned, so he immediately raised his voice: "Wang Jun, don't look down on me! My restaurant makes several hundred a day! Just wait until you're envious!"

Wang Jun still smiled. Earning a few hundred yuan a day running a restaurant these days? Difficult. Few people are willing to eat out. Even if Bang Geng could really make that much, it wouldn't be anything to him. Wang Jun earns a steady ten thousand yuan a day; a few hundred yuan isn't even a fraction of that. Why be envious?

Before Wang Jun could even reply, his third uncle, Yan Bugui, chimed in, "Hey, Wang Jun can earn several hundred a day now. If you want to do business, just do it honestly, don't compare yourself to Wang Jun. He's more capable, and he makes way more money than you."

Upon hearing this, the neighbors all nodded in agreement:

"Wang Jun's skills are far superior to Bang Geng's."

"Wang Jun knows how to do business; Bang Geng can't compare at all."

"Bang Geng should just stick to his job. He'll never catch up with Wang Jun in business."

"Wang Jun makes both radios and antennas; everyone in Tongluo Lane knows him. Banggeng is nowhere near as good."

Bang Geng listened to these comments, his face turning red and then pale, his heart seething with resentment. When he first became the leader's driver, everyone praised him as the most promising young man in the courtyard; ever since Wang Jun made his fortune in business, the tide had turned, and everyone said Wang Jun was the most capable. This stark contrast left him both frustrated and angry.

He glared at his neighbors and roared, "You bunch of people, you all look down on me! Just you wait and see, I'll definitely become the richest person in this courtyard! When that happens, I'll throw bundles of money in your faces and show you who's the boss!"

Those were harsh words, and the courtyard fell silent instantly, everyone stunned by his domineering aura. Bang Geng felt smug and even more emboldened: "Remember this, I, Bang Geng, am the most capable and money-making person in this courtyard!"

……

As soon as Banggeng went to work, the courtyard house was in an uproar.

"That kid Banggeng, he's so impulsive!"

"Exactly, he yelled at us just now, he has no manners at all. I was even thinking of introducing him to someone, thank goodness I didn't."

"He's already this arrogant before even making any money. If he actually does, won't he become the little tyrant of the courtyard house?"

"He was a little tyrant when he was young, always stealing chickens and doing other petty things. I thought he would change when he grew up, but he's still the same."

"Banggeng can't compare to Wang Jun. Wang Jun made money and then helped us make money too, and he's always smiling at everyone. What about Banggeng? He's already getting cocky before he even sees any money."

The neighbors chimed in, criticizing Banggeng mercilessly. Wang Jun didn't join in, but secretly thought: Banggeng's arrogance probably means he's got money in his pocket again. Tonight, he'd have to see if he could get a lucky charm and try his luck, to see what he could catch.

After Wang Jun finished moving his things, he glanced at the sun; it was almost noon. He picked up a radio and listened to the broadcast as he left the courtyard.

He went out this time specifically to the radio station, hoping to advertise for a factory manager. Setting up a garment factory is no small matter; permits, land, construction, recruitment, training—everything is daunting. Wang Jun planned to delegate all these miscellaneous tasks to a factory manager and just provide the funding himself.

In the 1980s, the general level of education was not high, so it was difficult to find a qualified garment factory manager. He also considered going to universities to find college graduates, but at that time, college graduates were guaranteed job placement and would go to work for companies as soon as they graduated. Why would they work for him? Besides, although college graduates had high academic qualifications, they had been studying all the time and had never been involved in management. They might not be suitable to be factory managers.

After much deliberation, Wang Jun decided to call the radio hotline. These days, radio stations often have dating hotlines where listeners can directly call in to post dating information. For Wang Jun, this was a free opportunity to post job openings; he just needed to call as soon as the hotline opened.

Leaving Tongluo Lane, Wang Jun strolled leisurely down the street. Bicycles were plentiful, cars were rare, and sedans were even rarer—only the most prominent figures could afford them. However, there were exceptions: he remembered a chicken farmer named Sun Guiying who started raising chickens in 1981. Her chicken farm grew exponentially, eventually selling 492,800 eggs to the state. To commend her, the state granted her special permission to buy a car. She spent 9300 yuan on a secondhand silver-gray Toyota from the Beijing Friendship Trust Company, and it even made the front page of the *Beijing Daily*, causing quite a stir in the city.

"For convenience, I definitely need a car," Wang Jun thought to himself. "But the country didn't allow private individuals to buy cars until 1986, so I'll have to find another way to get one."

He listened to the radio and walked to a public phone booth. In 1980, Beijing already had 1598 public telephones, so finding a phone booth wasn't difficult. As soon as the dating hotline on the radio started, Wang Jun immediately dialed.

Soon, the host's voice came through the receiver: "Hello, listener, what's your name? What kind of friends are you looking to make?"

"Hello host, I don't make friends, but I'd like to use the radio station to post a job advertisement, is that alright?"

The host was taken aback; he'd never seen a radio station broadcast a job posting before. He chuckled and said, "First time I've encountered a station broadcasting a job posting! What kind of content would you like to post?"

"I want to open a garment factory and am looking for a factory manager. Requirements: high school diploma or above, management experience, and efficient work style. Monthly salary is 2,000 yuan, with potential increases for outstanding candidates..."

"Two thousand?!" The host exclaimed in shock. "That's an incredibly high salary! It's equivalent to three years' income for a factory worker!"

"Really," Wang Jun agreed readily. "Friends who meet the requirements can write to me, and we can start a business together."

The host was so excited that he immediately started promoting the job: "Listeners, if you want to be a factory manager and earn a high salary, write in now! Honestly, even I'm tempted by that salary; I'd like to become a factory manager myself..."

Wang Jun hung up the phone, picked up the radio, and walked back slowly.

"The job posting has been sent out," he thought to himself. "Hopefully, I'll find a suitable factory manager."

Wang Jun turned into Tongluo Alley and saw Xu Damao chatting and laughing with a woman in a floral dress as they walked side by side into the "Fulaishun" restaurant at the end of the alley. He paused. Wasn't that woman Yu Li's sister, Yu Haitang?

More than a decade ago, Xu Damao and Yu Haitang had a brief relationship, but after he married Qin Jingru, they lost contact. Unexpectedly, after more than a decade, the two have gotten back together.

"Xu Damao has a wife but is still messing around with Yu Haitang, that's cheating," Wang Jun muttered to himself, not finding it particularly surprising. This guy has always had a lot of luck with women; he's got some "skill" to keep so many women hooked. He shook his head, turned around, and left. Making money was more important; he didn't want to get involved in this kind of nonsense.

The news that Wang Jun was recruiting a factory director spread like wildfire throughout the streets and alleys.

"I just listened to the radio, a big boss is hiring a factory manager, the monthly salary is two thousand!" Old Zhang from the alley entrance shouted, holding up a transistor radio.

"Two thousand? Really?" Aunt Li's shopping basket wobbled. "I only make fifty-two yuan a month, a little over six hundred a year if I don't eat or drink anything. It would take me three years to save two thousand!"

"They require a high school diploma and management experience. What are you thinking, a factory worker like you?" someone retorted.

"If I became the factory manager, I could eat fatty pork every day!" said Xiao Wu, the popsicle vendor, licking his popsicle.

"What a loser! If it were me, I'd go to restaurants every day and have ten different dishes every day!" Erzhuzi from the alley slapped his thigh.

"If I had that money, I would buy a large courtyard house first, so that my whole family could live comfortably!" sighed Sister Wang, who works in a government agency.

"You all don't know how to enjoy life! The first thing a Southern boss does when he gets rich is to find a mistress. Having a beautiful young woman by his side is what makes him proud!" someone winked.

Just as things were getting lively, someone suddenly slapped their thigh: "My uncle just retired from the brick factory; he used to be the factory manager, so he meets the requirements! I have to tell him right away!"

"I'll go call my cousin too; he used to manage production at the textile factory!"

Within two days, those who met the requirements were all interested. Those with high school diplomas and management experience wrote letters to Beijing one after another. Although most people felt that working in a company was stable, a monthly salary of two thousand yuan was really too tempting. They couldn't earn that much in ten years at a company. Who wouldn't be tempted?

In just a few days, several sacks of mail piled up at the West Branch of the Beijing Post Office. Postman Lao Huang stared at the large sacks, his eyes wide: "These are all to be delivered? Are you kidding me?"

The leader nodded: "That's right, they're all sent to the same person."

"So many letters sent to one person?" Old Huang wondered. "What's going on?"

A young postman nearby chimed in, beaming with pride: "The other day a big boss from the south called a radio hotline, looking for a garment factory manager, two thousand a month! These are all mails from applicants; they all want to be the manager!"

Everyone around was stunned, even the leader was shocked: "Two thousand yuan? That's too easy money!"

"Really? Two thousand a month, that's twelve thousand in six months, and twenty-four thousand a year! Becoming a factory manager for six months makes you a millionaire!"

"My aunt works at a radio station and says this news is guaranteed to be true! If I had a high school diploma, I'd write one too!"

"I need to tell my niece, she just came back from abroad, she might be interested!"

Old Huang stared at the sacks of letters, wondering who this factory manager was that would attract so many people to flock to him.

"Wang Jun! Wang Jun, your letter!"

The postman's shouts drifted in from outside the courtyard. Wang Jun was squatting on the threshold, tightening the screws on his radio. When he heard his name called, the screwdriver in his hand clanged against the brick.

Upon going outside, he saw Old Huang, the postman in his green uniform, leaning against a Phoenix bicycle with several bulging burlap sacks piled up like a small mountain on the back rack. Old Huang's eyes lit up when he saw him: "Are you Wang Jun?"

Wang Jun nodded. Old Huang was stunned. He had thought that the person looking for the factory manager was a big boss from the south, but he didn't expect it to be a seventeen or eighteen-year-old boy with a bit of childishness on his face.

"Did you call the radio station a few days ago to ask for a factory manager?" Old Huang asked, rubbing his hands together.

"Yes." Wang Jun took out his ID card. In 1984, when ID cards were first introduced nationwide, his ID card was handwritten, and the black and white photo was still recognizable.

Old Huang took the certificate, glanced at it, and returned it with a click of his tongue in amazement: "Young man, are you really going to open a garment factory? I heard it takes a lot of money to open a factory, do you have enough?"

"I made some money assembling radios, enough to start a factory," Wang Jun said.

Old Huang became even more enthusiastic upon hearing this: "I've heard there's a radio assembling expert in Tongluo Lane. So it's you! You're only seventeen and already planning to open a factory. You've got potential! Want me to introduce you to my daughter?"

Wang Jun felt a chill run down his spine and quickly waved his hand, saying, "I'm not an adult yet. Let's talk about marriage when I'm an adult."

"No need to be an adult!" Old Huang slapped his thigh. "I got married at fifteen and had a baby by sixteen..."

After chatting for a few minutes, Old Huang unloaded three large sacks from the back rack, his eyes crinkling with laughter: "Young man, these three sacks are all your letters!"

After Lao Huang left, Wang Jun stared at the three bags of letters, completely dumbfounded. The three large bags were piled on the ground, and he estimated that there were thousands of letters. How could one person possibly read them all? He called over Guo Hongbing, Li Xiangdong, and a few others, and the five of them struggled to carry the letters back into the house, which immediately attracted a group of elderly women who came to watch the spectacle.

"Jun, what kind of treasure is this?"

"Are these local specialties sent by relatives? They're piled up so high!"

"Are they sweet potatoes? How many batches would we have to steam to finish them all?"

Wang Jun wiped his sweat: "It's all a letter."

The old women were completely dumbfounded. In their entire lives, they had never seen so many letters.

"My God, three huge bags! That must be several thousand envelopes!"

"Jun, did you post a dating ad? Are all these people trying to date you?"

"When will you finish reading it? What does the letter say?"

Wang Jun frankly stated, "I posted a job advertisement a few days ago looking for a factory manager; these are the applicants."

These words were like a bombshell, and the women instantly erupted in an uproar: "So it was you the guy on the radio the other day offering a high salary to recruit a factory manager!"

"Jun, is it true that they're hiring a factory manager with a monthly salary of 2,000?"

"You want to open a garment factory? That's a big deal!"

Guo Hongbing and the others gathered around, bombarding him with questions: "Where is the factory going to be located?" "Were you the one who made the radio call?"

These days, entertainment is scarce, and even the smallest thing can cause a stir throughout the entire courtyard. Opening a factory is huge news for the people in the courtyard, even more exciting than when they were allocated houses. Even the most composed old man in the courtyard, Grandpa Li, leaned on his cane and came over, squinting as he asked, "Jun, are you really going to open a factory? You'd better be careful, don't lose money."

Wang Jun smiled and agreed, but a surge of excitement welled up inside him. He knew that from today onward, a new chapter in his life was about to begin.