ebookslot Chapter 4: Partnering with Zhang Ziyi's Father in the Magnetic Card Business
Chapter 4: Partnering with Zhang Ziyi's Father in the Magnetic Card Business
One Saturday afternoon in April, Li Si'an and Zhang Ziyi sat on the steps by the playground drinking Beibingyang soda.
The spring sun shone lazily on the playground, where a few boys were playing soccer, kicking up dust. Zhang Ziyi placed her soda bottle on her lap, tilted her head back, took a big gulp, burped, and then suddenly asked a question.
"By the way, I've never asked you about your family before. What does your dad do?"
"My dad used to be a trumpet player in the General Political Department Song and Dance Troupe."
"Oh, the General Political Department Song and Dance Troupe? That's a great organization." A hint of longing flickered in her voice, then she turned to him and asked, "And your mother?"
She was from the National Ballet of China, and later married and moved to Hong Kong.
"What do you mean by 'later married and moved to Hong Kong'?" Zhang Ziyi asked instinctively, then immediately realized her mistake, gave an awkward laugh, and tried to cover it up:
"Hehe, then your family can be considered an artistic family."
Li Si'an didn't take it seriously and asked in return, "What does your family do?"
"In my family, my dad works at the post office."
She said, "I work at the Xicheng District Post Office. My brother also works there. My mom is a kindergarten teacher. My family has nothing to do with the arts; I'm the only one who studies dance."
Post office.
When those three words reached Li Si'an's ears, it was like a pebble being thrown into the water.
His hand holding the Arctic Ocean bottle paused for a moment.
In his past life, his father also worked for the post and telecommunications bureau. In 98, when the post and telecommunications sectors were separated, his father stayed with the post office for stability and didn't go to the telecommunications sector. Later, whenever he mentioned this, he would regret it so much that he would slap his thigh.
He recalled 1995 from his previous life. His father's workplace issued magnetic cards, each worth 400 yuan, which could be used as a 200 yuan bonus. The family didn't know what to do with them, so they eventually sold them to a scrap collector on a tricycle. The scrap collector then resold them to people from out of town and college students.
Later, that person stopped collecting scrap and started going door-to-door collecting magnetic cards in the post office's dormitory area. Still later, I heard that person bought an apartment in the city.
A junk collector buys a house every two years.
When his father heard about it later, he regretted it so much that he slapped his thigh again.
"From the post office." Li Si'an spun the bottle halfway around. "Does your family have a lot of magnetic cards? Like the ones your dad's workplace gave out as employee benefits?"
Zhang Ziyi paused for a moment, then thought about it.
"I think so. My drawer's stuffed with a bunch of stuff; my mom keeps saying we should throw it away, but my dad won't let me." She tilted her head to look at him. "Why are you asking?"
"I want it."
"What do you need that thing for?"
"Why do you care? Kid, don't ask questions you shouldn't."
Zhang Ziyi glared at him and slapped his arm lightly, like shooing away a fly.
"You're the little brat."
Li Si'an didn't dodge; she was hit on the arm but didn't feel anything.
"Okay, okay, I'm just a little kid. Can you ask your dad for me?"
"What do you want to ask?"
"Ask him if he sells those cards. I'll buy them with money."
Zhang Ziyi glanced at him, finished the last sip of her Arctic Ocean soda, and placed the bottle on the steps.
"Okay. I'll look it up for you when I get back."
The next day at noon, in the cafeteria.
Zhang Ziyi sat down opposite him with her rice bowl, took an envelope out of her pocket, and slammed it on the table.
"That's all, I've brought it all for you."
Li Si'an picked it up, opened it, and glanced at it. There were about ten magnetic cards, some fifty and some one hundred yuan, with a total face value of about a thousand yuan.
"How much?"
"My dad said to calculate it at 60% of the face value. One thousand and fifty, you give six hundred and thirty."
Li Si'an took out 630 from his pocket, counted it twice, and handed it to her. Zhang Ziyi took it, counted it, and put it in her pocket.
"You're really strange, spending money to buy this thing."
Li Si'an didn't reply, and put the envelope into her pocket.
He ran around for two days that weekend.
I went to the train station on Saturday and to universities on Sunday. I asked at every hotel and talked to every convenience store. Some wouldn't even let me in, some waved me off after a few words, but others were willing to give me a few tickets to try.
By Sunday afternoon, all ten or so cards had been sold out.
He did the math. The purchase price was 630, and the selling price was a little over 800, so he made a net profit of less than 200.
The money wasn't much, but the connections were made.
Monday noon, in the cafeteria.
Li Si'an sat down opposite Zhang Ziyi with her rice bowl in hand.
"Do you still have those magnetic cards at home?"
Zhang Ziyi was gnawing on ribs when she looked up at him; his mouth was glistening with oil.
"That's all. I searched through all of my dad's drawers, and that's all I found."
"Go home and tell your dad that you've sold all those cards from last time, and ask him if he can still get me some more."
Zhang Ziyi spat out the bone and wiped her mouth with her sleeve.
"Didn't you call me a little brat? Now you want me to tell you what to do?"
"I asked you to pass on a message, not to interfere in other people's business."
"You—" she snorted, "Fine. I'll ask about it when I get back tonight."
Thursday afternoon, at the entrance of the practice room.
Zhang Ziyi leaned against the door frame, her arms crossed over her chest, and spoke as soon as she saw him come out.
"My dad said you should come to my house this weekend."
Li Si'an took off the training clothes draped over her shoulders and wiped her face: "What did he say?"
"He said he wants you to come and talk in person." Zhang Ziyi shrugged. "That's just how my dad is; he won't feel at ease unless he sees the person in person."
"OK."
Saturday afternoon.
Li Si'an rode his bicycle to Zhang Ziyi's house. It was on Erlong Road, in the residential compound of the Xicheng District Post and Telecommunications Bureau. The six-story red brick building had several patches of peeling paint on its exterior, revealing the gray cement underneath. Cabbages and scallions were piled up in the stairwell, and two or three bicycles were parked against the wall, their baskets stuffed with old newspapers.
The third floor. Several patches of green paint had peeled off the iron gate, revealing the sheet metal underneath. Zhang Ziyi opened the door, wearing an old sweater with sleeves that were too long, covering half of her hand.
"Come in."
The living room wasn't big. The sofa was made of faux leather, and it felt a bit sticky on my legs. On the coffee table were a glass ashtray and a plate of sunflower seeds, with a few cigarette butts in the ashtray.
Zhang Yuanxiao came out from the inner room. He was in his early forties, wearing a white shirt and gray trousers. He smiled and sat down on the sofa opposite him.
The smile was faint, and her eyes kept sizing up Li Si'an—from her face to her shoulders, from her shoulders to her hands, and then back to her face.
"Xiao Li, have a seat."
Li Si'an had already sat down.
Zhang Ziyi poured a cup of tea for her father and another for Li Si'an, then sat down to the side, grabbed a handful of sunflower seeds, and started cracking them open. Crack, crack, crack, slowly and deliberately.
Zhang Yuan smiled and lit a cigarette. It took him two strikes to light the match, and the flame flickered between his fingers. He brought the cigarette to his lips and took a drag.
"Ziyi told me you sold all those cards from last time?"
"Sold."
"How much is it?"
Li Si'an smiled but didn't say anything.
Zhang Yuan flicked his cigarette ash, glanced at Li Si'an, and his gaze was different from when he looked at the child when he came in. It was the look he gave to someone who could get things done.
He put the cigarette back in his mouth, pulled an envelope from under the coffee table, and placed it on the table.
"Want more?"
"Yes, I'll take as many as you have."
Zhang Yuan chuckled and exhaled a smoke ring, not in a hurry to reply. The cigarette smoke drifted between the two of them.
"Still the same price as last time?"
"That probably won't work," Li Si'an said. "Last time we bought in small quantities, so we could get a 60% discount. If you want to buy more this time, the price will have to go down."
Zhang Yuanxiao held the cigarette between his fingers and looked at him.
"How much do you want?"
"One hundred yuan notes are discounted by 50%. Fifty and twenty-five yuan notes are discounted by 40%."
Zhang Yuan smiled but didn't say anything. He flicked the ash, which fell to the bottom of the glass jar and shattered into several small pieces.
The television was on, the volume turned down low, playing Peking Opera, the faint sounds of gongs and drums drifting through the air. Zhang Ziyi stopped eating sunflower seeds.
"Half price? I'll give you the hundred-dollar bill, and you give me fifty?"
"Yes. Give thirty for a fifty-yuan note and fifteen for a twenty-five-yuan note."
Zhang Yuan stared at him for two seconds, then laughed. His smile conveyed a sense of "you're a shrewd guy." He put the cigarette back in his mouth and leaned back into the sofa.
"Okay. Half price it is."
He pushed the envelope on the table forward.
"Look. Twenty one-hundred-yuan notes. Twenty fifty-yuan notes. A total of three thousand yuan."
Li Si'an opened the envelope, poured out the cards, and counted them. Twenty hundred-yuan bills and twenty fifty-yuan bills. That's right.
"Three thousand denominations. One hundred denominations are discounted by 50%, fifty denominations by 60%—one thousand plus six hundred, that's one thousand six hundred."
He pulled a wad of banknotes from his pocket—hundred-yuan, fifty-yuan, and ten-yuan notes—stacked together and tied with a rubber band. He counted out 1,600 and placed it on the coffee table.
Zhang Yuanxiao didn't order it and casually put it in the drawer.
Li Si'an put the card back in the envelope and tucked it into her pocket.
"Uncle Zhang, this batch is sold out. Are you able to get some more?"
Zhang Yuanxiao stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray.
How much do you want?
"I'll take as much as you can."
Zhang Yuanxiao tapped his fingers on the sofa armrest twice, once, twice.
"Okay. I'll ask my colleagues for you. Post office workers have a lot of these things, I'll get them for you."
"Then I'll take whatever price you ask for at today's rate."
"become."
There was a moment of silence in the living room. Then the sound of Zhang Ziyi cracking sunflower seeds resumed.
"Uncle Zhang, I estimate this batch of cards will be processed in two or three weeks. How long does it take for you to receive the cards?"
Zhang Yuan smiled and thought for a moment.
"Two weeks. I'll have Ziyi give you a message then."
"OK."
Li Si'an stood up and tucked the envelope into his pocket.
"Then I'll wait for Ziyi's news."
Zhang Yuan smiled and nodded.
Li Si'an pushed open the door and went out.
The motion-activated lights in the hallway came on, casting a dim yellow light. He pushed his bicycle out from behind the wall; the chain was covered in mud, making it a little difficult to push.
As he turned out of the alley, a gust of wind blew in from the alley entrance, carrying the aroma of someone cooking—the smell of scallions being stir-fried in a wok. He unzipped his coat, and the heavy envelope in his pocket pressed against his chest.
Three thousand denominations. One hundred denominations are discounted by 50%, fifty denominations by 60%. Purchase at one thousand six hundred. Sell at 80% off, two thousand four hundred. Profit eight hundred.
Zhang Yuanxiao helped him collect the money, taking ten yuan from each hundred-yuan note and five yuan from each fifty-yuan note. He could pocket two hundred and fifty yuan from this batch of three thousand yuan.
The next batch of goods will be delivered in two weeks.
Li Si'an pedaled his bicycle through the alleys, the streetlights flashing by one after another.
The chain clattered, and his practice clothes, stuffed in the basket, billowed in the wind. A cold breeze rushed into his collar, and he hunched his shoulders, but his heart was burning with excitement.