Rebirth: My college entrance exam score was stolen? I turned the tables and made a billion.

After Zhao Xiaojun left, Liu Guangming closed the courtyard gate and went back inside to sit down.

The idea of ​​selling watermelons wasn't something I came up with on a whim.

In the summer of 1992, were there many opportunities?

many.

After Deng Xiaoping's Southern Tour speeches, Shenzhen and Zhuhai in the south became goldmines.

Those who speculate in stocks, scalp licenses, or engage in processing supplied materials—the bolder ones have already started heading south.

But those things have nothing to do with him.

He is now an 18-year-old high school student taking the college entrance exam, with only five yuan in his pocket. In Songyang County, opportunities in the south and the forefront of trends are 800 miles away from him.

What he needed was simple: to save up his first sum of money within a month in this small county town.

What can you do to quickly generate cash?

Moving bricks?

You only make two or three yuan a day, and even if you work yourself to the bone for a month, you'll only earn seventy or eighty yuan.

Washing dishes at a restaurant? Room and board provided per month, wages between thirty and fifty yuan.

Everything is too slow.

Selling melons is different.

July is the time when watermelons are overstocked, and even at the farm gate, the purchase price is so low that no one wants them.

But at the train station entrance, travelers were hot and thirsty, and the cut watermelons were only two cents each, and no one complained that they were expensive.

Moreover, the barrier to entry is low; no skills or connections are required, and all you need is a cart and a knife.

He was genuinely surprised when Zhao Xiaojun came to find him.

However, bringing Zhao Xiaojun along wouldn't be bad either.

It's impossible to say that she harbors no hatred towards Zhao Youcai.

But right now, I need manpower around me.

Moreover, Zhao Xiaojun is, after all, the son of a police officer, so getting him involved in this kind of business might save some trouble.

Of course, it's not just about exploitation.

Liu Guangming didn't consider himself a saint, but he still couldn't completely transfer the hatred he felt for Zhao Youcai to Zhao Xiaojun, who had treated him this way.

The gate rang again; this time it was Zhou Dehou.

"Guangming! The cart is back!"

When Liu Guangming went outside, he saw a flatbed handcart parked at the door.

The vehicle body is made of welded iron frame, and the two rubber wheels are quite sturdy. I pushed them with my hand, and they creaked twice, but they could still turn.

"Old Li said this truck has been idle for a year, nobody uses it, so he can just take it away." Zhou Dehou patted the side of the truck. "It's just a bit ugly, but it'll do."

That's enough.

Liu Guangming squatted down, removed the weeds and mud tangled on the axle, and checked the tires; they weren't leaking air.

He stood up, went back into the house, fetched a basin, scooped up water, and used a rag to wipe the cart inside and out.

Some rust couldn't be removed, but at least the dust and oil stains on the watch face were wiped clean.

The eldest sister stood under the eaves watching him work, her hands on her hips.

"Guangming, what exactly are you trying to do? With that knife and cart, what are you doing?"

"Sis, I need to borrow two more things from you."

"What?"

Do you have any enamel basins at home? Larger ones, perhaps. And buckets too.

Liu Cuihua turned and went into the kitchen. After rummaging around for a while, she pulled out a white enamel basin with blue flowers and then dragged out a tin bucket from the corner of the wall.

"This is the only enamel basin I have. I usually use it to pickle vegetables. You can take it and just wash it clean after you're done."

"The bucket was used by your brother-in-law to fetch water, so I'll give it to you first."

Then she took a kitchen knife from the stove, rubbed it on the whetstone a few times, and handed it over.

"Take the knife, don't cut your hand."

Liu Guangming took the knife.

"Thanks, sis."

"No need to thank me."

The older sister glanced at him, "Anyway, you're determined to make your own decision, and I can't stop you."

That night, Liu Guangming went to bed early and mentally reviewed the schedule for the next day.

We set off at 5:30, first going to the farmers' market to buy melons, then hauling them to the train station to start selling them when there are many passengers around 8 or 9 in the morning.

He woke up before the alarm clock went off.

It was still dark outside the window.

Liu Guangming got dressed, put the enamel basin, bucket, and kitchen knife on the cart, and pushed the cart out the door.

A 28-inch bicycle was parked at the entrance of the alley. Zhao Xiaojun was straddling the bicycle, one foot on the ground, his head nodding as he dozed off.

Hearing the sound of the cart wheels, he suddenly looked up.

"Brother Guangming! I've arrived!"

"The thought of making money woke me up at 3:30, and I haven't been able to fall back asleep since!"

The dark circles under his eyes prove he wasn't lying.

"Let's go, let's go to the market first."

Zhao Xiaojun locked his bicycle to the utility pole at the alley entrance and ran over to help push the cart.

The two walked south along the main street, one in front of the other, toward the farmers' market.

The streets of the county town were deserted early in the morning, with only the occasional bicycle passing by, stirring up a gust of wind.

Although Zhao Xiaojun was sleepy, he couldn't stop talking.

"Brother Guangming, what if we can't sell all these melons?"

"If we can't sell them all, we'll eat them ourselves."

"That's still not enough to eat 200 jin (100 kg)."

The farmers' market is located at the south end of the county town, and vegetable farmers were already setting up their stalls before six o'clock.

People carrying loads on shoulder poles and riding tricycles crowded the narrow passageway to the brim.

Liu Guangming pushed his cart straight to the melon stall at the very back.

Several melon farmers squatted behind a pile of watermelons, with burlap sacks spread out in front of them. Watermelons of all sizes were piled up in several stacks.

Some of the melon rinds still had mud on them, clearly indicating they had just been brought from the field.

Liu Guangming walked to the nearest stall, squatted down, and took a picture of a melon.

"Thump thump thump," three times.

The sound was dull and echoing; the melon rind vibrated in my hand—it was a ripe melon.

He put this down and then patted the one next to him.

"Clap clap clap," the sound was crisp and tight.

Raw, no.

He learned this skill from an old melon farmer from Henan when he worked at a brick factory in his previous life.

The old man planted two acres of melon fields next to the brickyard. In the summer, he often cut melons for his coworkers and taught them how to identify melons by their sound.

The melon farmer next to him looked up. He was a man in his forties, his face tanned dark red, with a towel draped around his neck. Seeing Liu Guangming squatting there picking and choosing melons, he asked a question.

"Young man, are you eating at home or what?"

"Uncle, I want two hundred pounds."

The melon farmer thought he had misheard.

"How many?"

"Two hundred catties."

"You can eat 200 pounds by yourself?"

Zhao Xiaojun quickly interjected, "Uncle, we're here to buy wholesale."

The melon farmer looked the two teenagers up and down, and glanced at the broken cart behind them, with a mixture of disbelief and skepticism.

Wholesale? How old are you two?

"eighteen."

Liu Guangming remained squatting, his hands still busy, slapping another melon and putting it into the pile of "want".

"Uncle, how much do you sell these melons for?"

"Two cents and fifty cents a pound."

"Is it guaranteed to be ripe?"

"I sell watermelons, why would I sell you unripe watermelons?"

"Is it really guaranteed to be ripe?"

The melon farmer was taken aback by what he heard.

Hey, you two half-grown kids, you're here to buy melons, why are you talking like that?

Is he looking for trouble?

"Hey, just tell me if you want it or not?"

"Yes, I'll buy 200 jin wholesale, 1/8 split, is that okay?"

Upon hearing this, the melon farmer naturally waved his hand.

However, he felt a sense of relief.

Wow, so it was all about haggling.

"One point and eight seconds is too low."

"Uncle, this pile of melons of yours must weigh at least four or five hundred pounds. Will you be able to sell them all today?"

Liu Guangming didn't even look up, continuing to pick melons. "If they're not sold out, they won't be fresh. I'll take two hundred jin at a time, it saves you trouble, and it saves me trouble too."

The melon farmer hesitated for a few seconds.

To be honest, the price of watermelons has been dropping these past two days. There are more watermelon vendors than buyers in the market. Yesterday, he spent the whole day there and only sold less than 50 jin (25 kg).

"One split is one split."

The melon farmer relented, "You can choose for yourself, but don't take too long to pick and choose."

"rest assured."

Liu Guangming picks melons very quickly.

Tap it, listen to the sound; keep the dull one, put the crisp one back.

Occasionally tap the melon rind with your fingernail to check its elasticity. Then turn it over and look at the navel; a smaller navel indicates a sweeter melon.

Zhao Xiaojun watched in stunned silence.

"Brother Guangming, why do you look like an old melon farmer?"

"I read it in a book."

"What kind of book teaches you how to pick a watermelon?"

Liu Guangming ignored him and continued picking.

In less than twenty minutes, seventeen melons were selected, the larger ones weighing fifteen or sixteen pounds and the smaller ones weighing about ten pounds. After weighing, they totaled two hundred and three pounds.

"Two hundred and three jin, one fen and eighty-one jin..."

The melon farmer fiddled with his abacus, "Rounding it down, it's three yuan and sixty cents."

Liu Guangming took out the crumpled five-yuan note from his pocket and handed it over.

The melon farmer got back 1.4 yuan and even added an extra small melon.

"This one has a crack and can't be sold, you can take it and eat it."

"Thanks, uncle."

The two men loaded the seventeen watermelons one by one onto the cart.

Zhao Xiaojun couldn't stand up after stacking two layers, so Liu Guangming put the larger ones at the bottom as a base and placed the smaller ones on top, then wrapped the rope he got from his older sister's house around them twice and tied them tightly.

The cart sank, and it took some effort to push it.

Zhao Xiaojun helped from behind, and the two of them pushed the cart toward the train station.

Songyang County Railway Station is located in the northeast corner of the county seat, about a 20-minute walk from the farmers' market.

The station square is not large, with a two-story waiting hall, yellow walls and green windows, and the words "Songyang Station" in red hanging at the entrance.

It was a little past seven o'clock, and the sun was already high in the sky, making the concrete in the square scorching hot.

There weren't many passengers entering or leaving the station yet; they were scattered about, carrying woven bags and snakeskin sacks, mostly people going to work or visit relatives in other places.

There are two old locust trees by the square, and an old lady selling tea eggs has set up a stall under the trees.

Liu Guangming pushed the cart to another locust tree and found a spot near the roadside.

"Don't shout it out yet."

He scooped a ladle of water from the bucket and rinsed the enamel basin clean.

Then he picked the biggest melon and placed it on the edge of the cart, raised the cleaver, and swiftly brought it down.

"Click."

The watermelon split open in the middle, revealing red flesh and black seeds, with juice dripping down the cut.

Zhao Xiaojun swallowed hard.

"It's really red."

"Xiao Jun, help me cut it."

Liu Guangming pushed half a melon to him.

"Cut it into crescent-shaped pieces, not too thick or too thin, about the width of your palm."

Zhao Xiaojun took the knife and cut a piece in the same way he did.

"Thinner still."

Zhao Xiaojun nodded and cut another piece.

"Alright, this thickness is fine."

The two of them, one cutting and the other arranging, neatly stacked the cut melon pieces in an enamel basin.

The bright red flesh, glistening with water droplets, filled a whole basin.

Then, Liu Guangming pulled out a piece of cardboard from under the cart. It was taken from a packing box he had picked up from his older sister's house the night before.

He took out a pen from his pocket and wrote a few words on the cardboard.

"Cantaloupe, two cents a piece."

The characters were written neatly and carefully. After finishing, Liu Guangming leaned the cardboard against the front of the cart.

Zhao Xiaojun stood to the side, rubbing his hands together.

"Brother Guangming, should I shout something?"

"Don't shout yet, wait until there are more people before you speak."

"So what do we do now?"

"wait."

Liu Guangming squatted down next to the cart, chopped up the remaining cracked melon with a knife, and handed half of it to Zhao Xiaojun.

"Have something to eat first."