Chapter 78: The Wisdom of Elders

After dinner.

Old Zhu was dragged away by the landlady to wash the dishes.

Wang Qiang had drunk a bit too much and sat quietly, listening to Old Yao brag. After all, it was all just drunken talk.

Old Yao boasted about how formidable he was back in the day—how in 1980 at Qinglong Port he could take on several men at once, how many people he knew in the underworld. After rambling for a while, he smacked his lips and said to Wang Qiang, “Hey, Xiao Wang, it’s fine for you to run a game parlor, but you need to keep an eye on those young punks around here. They’re up to no good, always causing trouble.”

Wang Qiang responded, “I understand.”

Sun Weixing nodded, “You really do need to be careful. A few years back, when I was still selling radios, some young thugs showed up demanding protection money, claiming they were with the Qinglong Gang. But the Qinglong Gang had already gone legit—they wouldn’t send punks like that. So of course I refused, and ended up getting beaten up. It was Old Yao who stood up for me in the end. It's a bit embarrassing to talk about, but since you’ll be opening the game parlor with Brother Zhu, you’ll definitely run into those types. If Brother Zhu’s around, it’s fine—they know him and won’t dare make a move. But if he’s not there and someone comes demanding protection money, remember—don’t be stubborn. Hand out a few cigarettes, and if it comes down to it, give them a little cash. Tell Brother Zhu afterwards, and he’ll take care of it.”

Wang Qiang was surprised, “There’s really such a thing as protection money?”

“Why would I lie?” Old Sun pulled out a cigarette. “Losing a little money is nothing. Those punks don’t know when to stop—if they beat you up, that’s a real problem.”

Zhu Xiaofeng chimed in, “That’s right, Shanghai isn’t as peaceful as people think. When I was in middle school, one of my classmates even had his leg broken.”

Wang Qiang took all this to heart. “Alright, I’ve got it. If I really run into those people, I’ll be sensible. As the saying goes, harmony brings wealth. I’m not one to be stubborn about such things.” He’d heard plenty about protection rackets, but never expected that a cosmopolitan city like Shanghai would have such issues. Having long outgrown the age for hot-headed disputes, Wang Qiang was calm—unless his fundamental interests were threatened, he wasn’t one to argue over pride.

In a little while, he’d have nothing to fear from local thugs and hooligans. In his memory, in about a month’s time, there would be a sweeping national crackdown—a massive anti-crime campaign that would roll out across the republic. Wherever it went, highwaymen, bandits, murderers, fugitives, and street toughs were all terrified. The campaign was ruthless—swift and severe punishment for criminals. For example, during the 1983 crackdown, someone could be sentenced to death for stealing just one yuan; in Beijing, someone was sentenced to death with reprieve for two years for snatching a hat and smashing a window—classified as hooliganism. The severity was intense.

The 1994 crackdown wasn’t as draconian as that of 1983, but still, anyone daring to test the law would never recover.

It was a good thing—thanks to this campaign, public security improved severalfold.

Old Yao, his speech slurred with drink, said, “Actually, the only reason Old Zhu and I have any say around here is because of Boss Wang. Otherwise, do you think the Zhu’s Guesthouse and my clothing shop could have operated so peacefully, without anyone making trouble or demanding protection money?”

This was the second time he’d heard that name. Wang Qiang asked curiously, “Boss Wang? Is he really that capable?” The last time, he’d heard the owner mention someone who could afford LV bags, which still stuck with him. In this era, anyone who could afford an LV bag must be truly wealthy.

“Boss Wang is an influential figure—both sides of the law give him face,” Old Yao said reverently, the mention of that name almost sacred. “If it weren’t for Old Zhu and me saving his life back in the day, how would we have the chance to know someone like that? It was in 1980, at Qinglong Port. Boss Wang was mistaken for someone else and chased down with machetes. Old Zhu, Boss Wang, and I had only met once before, but we knew he was important, so we risked our lives to rescue him. Ever since then, Boss Wang has kept us in mind, often inviting us for tea and chat. As for Old Zhu’s stubbornness, I won’t mention it. When Xiaofeng didn’t get into high school, Boss Wang could have settled it with just a word, but Old Zhu refused to ask. My daughter’s grades weren’t enough either, but Boss Wang made a call and now she’s already reported for military training at Shanghai Middle School.”

“My dad said Uncle Wang has already helped our family enough—he didn’t want to trouble him again,” Zhu Xiaofeng said helplessly, then turned to Wang Qiang, “I’m not talking about you, Uncle Qiang.”

Wang Qiang, of course, understood.

Sun Weixing sighed, “Boss Wang is very loyal to old friends. When Brother Zhu’s business failed and he was deep in debt, it was Boss Wang who paid it off. Maybe that’s why Brother Zhu doesn’t want to trouble him anymore.”

Listening to them, Wang Qiang felt a bit intoxicated—not just from the alcohol, but from the idea of meeting such a powerful figure. But he knew it was just wishful thinking; he wasn’t yet qualified to be in that circle.

As the conversation drifted, the focus shifted back to Wang Qiang.

Old Yao said, “I probably shouldn’t ask, but I’m just curious—what exactly do you do? If you don’t want to say, that’s fine.”

Zhu Xiaofeng widened his eyes, “Yeah, Uncle Qiang, I’m curious too.”

Even a little drunk, Wang Qiang knew what to say and what not to. He gave them a vague answer. “I deal in electronics—game consoles, Walkmans, that sort of thing. Just making a little money.”

“These things are expensive—‘just a little money?’” Old Sun chuckled. “If that’s just a little, then my appliance repair is basically scavenging.”

He spoke without thinking, but Zhu Xiaofeng’s eyes lit up, hinting, “A Walkman sells for several hundred at the department store. When I was in school, I saw classmates with them and begged my parents for one, but they refused—said it was too expensive.”

Wang Qiang laughed, “So you want me to give you one, is that it?”

Just then, Old Zhu and the landlady came out and overheard them, asking what was being given.

Unable to keep quiet, Zhu Xiaofeng blurted out his wish for a Walkman.

He was promptly scolded by Old Zhu, “How old are you? Still asking for a Walkman? That’s several hundred yuan—do you think you can just ask for something like that?”

The landlady joined in, “If I hear you talk like that again, I’ll skin you alive!”

Chastened, Zhu Xiaofeng sat there, head down and aggrieved.

Wang Qiang tried to smooth things over with a smile. “Don’t scold Xiaofeng. It’s just a Walkman—I’ll give him one.”

“Don’t indulge him,” Old Zhu said angrily. “He spends all day chasing fads and never thinks about his future. I really don’t know who he takes after.”

“Who else but your own playful nature?” the landlady snapped, then turned to Wang Qiang, “Really, Xiao Wang, there’s no need.”

With his parents putting their foot down, Zhu Xiaofeng fell silent, fiddling with his fingers, knowing that saying more would only get him scolded even worse.

Thinking of how well Old Zhu’s family had treated him, with Zhu Xiaofeng even calling him uncle, Wang Qiang, emboldened by alcohol, wobbled to his feet. “Brother Zhu, Sister-in-law, enough—it’s just a Walkman. Wait a moment.”

The couple tried to stop him, but Wang Qiang, his head spinning with drink, insisted on going upstairs to fetch it.

In the end, it was Old Yao who stopped the couple, recognizing Wang Qiang was a bit tipsy.

Wang Qiang ran upstairs, grabbed a box with a Walkman and a cassette, and came back down.

When he returned to the entrance, Old Zhu and his wife were still scolding Zhu Xiaofeng.

Wang Qiang walked over, handed the box and cassette to Zhu Xiaofeng. “You’ll need to buy your own batteries.”

“Really? You’re really giving it to me?” Moments ago, Zhu Xiaofeng had been miserable, but now he jumped up with joy, clutching the Walkman and cassette. “Thank you, Uncle Qiang! Thank you!”

The others were all momentarily stunned.

“That’s a few hundred yuan, isn’t it?”

“Just giving it to Xiaofeng like that?”

“Xiao Wang, you’re really generous.”

Though none of the adults played with such things, they all knew the price.

Wang Qiang waved it off. “It only plays music, no recording function—not that expensive.”

Even so, Zhu Xiaofeng was over the moon and ran off, shouting, “I’m going to buy batteries!”

Everyone knew Wang Qiang was drunk, but this gesture made them see him in a new light. It wasn’t about money—it was about character. They all realized that Wang Qiang was someone worth befriending.

But Wang Qiang himself thought nothing of it—a Walkman cost him only twenty-five yuan, with the cassette it was twenty-six and a half. The Zhu couple had put up three thousand yuan to open the game parlor; the red-and-white consoles and games together were worth over ten thousand in Shanghai, but his actual cost was only fourteen hundred, yet he was taking seventy percent of the profits. He already felt he’d gotten the better end of the deal. Giving a Walkman was nothing, especially since the Zhu couple had been feeding him well every day. Giving their son a small gift was only right—if you called yourself an “elder,” you had to act like one.

Later, Old Yao brought out a pen and paper, wrote down a number, and came over. “Xiao Wang, if anything comes up in the game parlor while Old Zhu isn’t around, call me.”

Wang Qiang took it casually and nodded.

From inside, Old Zhu called out, “Xiao Wang, come here for a moment, I need to talk to you.”

After apologizing to Old Yao, Wang Qiang hurried over to the counter. “What’s up?”

Old Zhu hiccupped from the drink. “In a couple of days, your sister-in-law and I need to go to Wuhu to honor our ancestors. While we’re gone, I’m worried trouble might come to the game parlor. Here’s a number—if anything happens, call this number and say you’re my cousin. Someone will help you settle things.” He handed Wang Qiang a small slip of paper, looking serious. “I didn’t even ask him when Xiaofeng failed his high school exams. I truly consider you a friend, so I’m giving you this number. Unless there’s no other choice, don’t use it. I don’t want to owe him any more favors.”

Could it be Boss Wang?

Wang Qiang glanced at the slip. Sure enough, it had a number and “Boss Wang” written on it.

He couldn’t help but feel a little moved. His gesture with the Walkman must have touched Old Zhu, or else he wouldn’t have shared this number so easily. Friendship, after all, was built up through small gestures like these.

He said, “I understand—just now, Boss Yao told me if anything happened while you’re gone, I should call him. I won’t bother Boss Wang and make you owe another favor.”

But Old Zhu pursed his lips, perhaps a bit drunk, “If you’re going to call Boss Wang, don’t call Old Yao. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have given you Boss Wang’s number at all.”

Wang Qiang realized Old Zhu wasn’t speaking idly. “What do you mean?”

“Old Yao is a bit too calculating. Nothing else, but just don’t go to him if there’s trouble,” Old Zhu emphasized.

For someone straightforward to say that, it spoke volumes about Old Yao’s character.

Wang Qiang nodded thoughtfully, glancing at Old Yao, becoming quietly wary. He was careful not to fall into any traps. From the first encounter, he’d sensed Old Yao was off—when he nearly messed up Old Yao’s business, the man wasn’t angry and even took in a large batch of goods, later giving him an extra forty yuan as a goodwill gesture. Today, he’d been probing about Wang Qiang’s business. Wang Qiang could now see what kind of person he was—probably hoping to take advantage of the fact that Wang Qiang was young and trick him into revealing his money-making secrets.

Had Wang Qiang truly been seventeen or eighteen, he might have taken Old Yao as a friend. But with a mature soul inside his youthful body, he knew there were no windfalls in life, and avoided unnecessary trouble.

His unwillingness to take advantage of others meant that those who wanted to exploit him were left with nothing to gain.

No matter what, Wang Qiang kept Old Zhu’s warning in mind. He could consider Old Zhu a friend because, though Old Zhu hoped to benefit from him, he also genuinely gave something in return; it wasn’t all calculation. For example, when Wang Qiang gave the couple ideas for the inn, he helped them find ways to make money, and when they learned he was stuck with some jeans, they offered to help—something most people wouldn’t bother with.