Chapter Three: Chen Huajiang’s Plan

Daguang was Chen Huajiang’s childhood friend, a brother with whom he had grown up. His father was a cook in the factory canteen, a man of considerable skill but also stubborn and rigid in character. While others their age had already started working, Daguang remained unemployed at home, and the frustration weighed heavily on his heart. Yet his father stubbornly refused to offer bribes or ask favors, finding it shameful and insisting they wait for an official assignment.

“How long do we have to wait like this? Until the end of time? I don’t have a job, I can’t even find a girl to marry!” Daguang lamented.

He opened a bottle of liquor and took a sullen swig. He reached to pour a glass for Chen Huajiang, but Chen Huajiang stopped him.

“I’m not drinking anymore,” Chen Huajiang said, his tone not loud but resolute.

“You’re not drinking? That’s strange.” Usually, a single bottle wouldn’t be enough for Chen Huajiang alone.

Chen Huajiang handed him a piece of fried dough twist, his mind turning over an idea. Daguang had always wanted to work in the canteen and had learned excellent cooking skills from his father. It was said that his ancestors once served as imperial chefs in the palace. Whether that was true or not, Chen Huajiang knew for certain that Daguang possessed some remarkable culinary talents. He had once tasted Daguang’s braised pork, and the flavor was simply unforgettable.

“He’s a real talent,” Chen Huajiang thought, raising his cup of tea as if toasting with wine to Daguang, who downed it in one go, still troubled.

With Chen Huajiang’s experience, Daguang was like a child before him—after a few words, he could read his thoughts clearly. Daguang had his eye on a girl, and they’d been secretly seeing each other. But without a job, he dared not propose, fearing her family would refuse and worrying himself sick.

“Your father won’t change his ways, so getting into the factory will be tough. Without a job, you don’t feel you can propose, right?” Chen Huajiang analyzed.

Daguang hung his head, nodding repeatedly.

“But… there’s another way.” Chen Huajiang shifted the conversation.

“Daguang, would you like to work with me?” he asked suddenly.

“Work with you?” Daguang looked up in surprise.

“If you don’t have a job, isn’t having money just as good? With money, you can get married all the same,” Chen Huajiang offered a new perspective.

“That’s true, money works too! I want to be rich, a ten-thousand-yuan household!” At the time, being a ten-thousand-yuan household was a fashionable ambition.

“But Huajiang, you’ve been fired yourself. If I work with you, what’s the point?” Daguang was already half-convinced.

“Think about it—your father’s skills are excellent, but why is the canteen’s reputation so poor among the workers?” When Chen Huajiang worked at the factory, he had only one word for the food: pig slop.

“Isn’t it obvious? Whether the food’s good or bad, whether you work hard or not, the pay’s the same. My father just puts in the hours without the effort—everyone in the canteen does the same. Besides, when mealtime comes, it’s crowded and chaotic, and by the time you get your food, it’s cold and tasteless,” Daguang explained, hitting the nail on the head.

“In that case, what if we opened a snack bar in the factory? Could we make money?” Chen Huajiang pressed on.

“Of course!” Daguang slapped his thigh, then immediately shook his head. “But being self-employed isn’t respectable—it doesn’t sound as good as being a worker. And we don’t have a venue or the capital. How could we open a snack bar?”

“Daguang, in times like these, fortune favors the bold and starves the timid. If we each put in three hundred yuan, split the shares evenly, what do you say?” As childhood friends, Chen Huajiang genuinely wanted to help him.

But Daguang shook his head like a drum. “Three hundred yuan? That’s enough to buy a brand-new Forever bicycle and a Shanghai wristwatch. What if we lose it all? I… I think I’ll pass.” He was saving that money for marriage.

“All right, then. I’ll handle the money and everything else. You just bring your cooking skills and be the chef. I’ll pay you fifty yuan a month. How about it?” Chen Huajiang had already planned for this.

Heaven helps those who help themselves—he was offering Daguang an opportunity, but if Daguang didn’t seize it, there was nothing more he could do. In the end, everyone must rely on themselves.

“Fifty yuan a month?” Daguang’s eyes lit up at the generous wage. That was about what a section chief earned at the factory.

Fifty a month—six hundred a year. Two years and he’d have enough for a wedding!

“That’s right, fifty a month, and it won’t interfere with your job search. Will you do it?” Chen Huajiang smiled.

“Huajiang, I’ll work with you!” Daguang was overjoyed.

“Go home and wait for my news. In the meantime, learn a few more signature dishes from your father.”

“Will do!” Daguang got up, not forgetting to bite into the half-eaten dough twist as he left.

Chen Huajiang shook his head. Daguang’s vision was too limited—he would only ever be a cook.

He couldn’t rely on Daguang and would have to find another way.

Just then, there was a knock at the door.

“Huajiang! What are you doing cooped up at home in the middle of the day? Come play a few hands!” boomed a loud voice from outside.

It was Liang Long, one of his gang of rowdy friends.

Chen Huajiang had no mind to waste time with them now. He was about to refuse, but then a thought struck him. These friends often took advantage of his fondness for drink to cheat him out of money. Now was the time to get some of it back.

Moreover, Liang Long happened to be the son of the chief of security—a man who could be very useful indeed.

Chen Huajiang put on a friendly face and opened the door.

“Huajiang, what took you so long? Hiding a woman in there or what?” Liang Long joked, peering inside with a roguish air.

With his father’s position, if he had any ambition, he’d have made something of himself long ago. But he was hopeless—drifting aimlessly, never doing anything worthwhile.

“Cut the crap. Women are nothing compared to a good card game. Let’s go!” Chen Huajiang replied with a laugh, hurrying him along.

“Let’s go, the usual place!”

The two of them climbed onto Liang Long’s red “Happiness” motorcycle and sped off, leaving a trail of dust behind.