Chapter 5: Sold at a Loss

【5】 Sold at a Loss

Xiaoqiang had gone to bed early, but he couldn't seem to wake up, indulging in a truly thorough sleep before finally calling it quits. It was nearly eleven o'clock when a delivery call finally roused him; someone who had recently suffered significant blood loss was indeed prone to heavy sleeping.

After receiving the delivery, Cao Xiaoqiang nervously opened every watch box to double-check. The seller had truly followed instructions—not a single scrap of paper remained, and there wasn't a trace to suggest these were 2010 Chinese goods. The presentation was convincing enough to fool a foreigner in 2010, let alone anyone else.

Looking at the watch boxes spread across his bed, Xiaoqiang quickly and efficiently packed them all into cardboard boxes. Glancing at the Fiyta watch on his wrist, he realized it was already nearly two o'clock in the afternoon. His stomach rumbled, so he followed his usual routine: first, a cup of Ejiao blood-nourishing granules. He thought to himself, "I'm about to go on another mission. From now on, three meals a day, and I'll brew a double portion each time—two whole packets."

The body is the capital of revolution, so Xiaoqiang went out to eat as usual. He went to a nearby "Old Beidu Zhajiangmian" shop and ordered a bowl of soybean paste noodles, plus a plate of scrambled eggs with cucumber and a serving of tripe. Outsiders often mistakenly think eating Zhajiangmian in Beidu is like grabbing a bowl of beef noodles, but they are wrong; in this city-famous chain, the noodles were not cheap. Xiaoqiang only came here to treat himself on occasion, and even then, he usually just ordered the noodles.

After stuffing himself, the foodie headed straight to the supermarket. With the experience of his last two trips, Xiaoqiang figured bringing some food along was a good idea—otherwise, in an unfamiliar place, where would he find a bite to eat? So, whether it was chocolate, biscuits, drinks, or even toilet paper, he spent over three hundred yuan and bought two large bags full.

Back at his place, Xiaoqiang changed into his suit again, though this time he added a wool sweater underneath and a long down coat over the top; otherwise, he wouldn't be able to handle the cold of 1949. Once dressed, he struggled to cram the four large cardboard boxes and the food into his FAW Jiabao microvan.

Cao Xiaoqiang locked the door, climbed into the driver's seat, and drove to a gas station to fill up. While there, he bought a 20L iron spare fuel canister, filled it, and shoved it into the back of the van. Following the map of Old Beidu he had researched, he drove toward the southern suburbs. He passed the Fourth Ring Road’s Dahongmen Overpass and found an open, empty space. By then, the sky had darkened. Following Blood Soul’s instructions, Xiaoqiang pricked his fingertip, dabbed blood onto the car body, and sat in the driver's seat. Seeing no one around in the dim night, he traveled through time.

After a wave of dizzying nausea in his mind, the car stopped in a field. Fortunately, it was autumn; the farmers had just harvested the wheat, leaving the fields empty and the ground firm. It seemed it hadn't rained in Beiping recently, so the car hadn't gotten stuck. Xiaoqiang turned on the headlights, shifted gears, and quietly drove away.

Just as he reached Yongdingmen Bridge, he saw a roadblock ahead. At this time, there were still many undercover spies in Beiping. To prevent sabotage, major entry and exit points in the city were guarded and checked after dark. Seeing the roadblock, Xiaoqiang felt a genuine sense of panic.

"I didn't think this through," Xiaoqiang thought. "I should have parked by that wheat field for the night and entered the city at dawn; it wouldn't have been so conspicuous."

Steadying himself, Xiaoqiang rolled down the window and said to the approaching officer on duty, "Comrade PLA, I'm transporting goods from Tianjin to Beidu. If you're worried, feel free to inspect them."

ID cards didn't exist yet, so inspections relied mostly on the officer's experience. But Xiaoqiang’s cargo was far too eye-catching. Clearly, the plainly dressed officer in front of him was skeptical.

"We are conducting a routine inspection. Please step out of the car."

Facing four large boxes packed to the brim with watches, the officer was completely stunned. He had never seen so many watches in his life; under the glare of the headlights, they were dazzling—no, they were overflowing with a precious luster. But that is why the PLA is the people's army, an army with strict discipline. Looking at so many expensive "imported" watches, the simple soldier’s eyes held nothing but surprise and admiration, without a hint of greed. If this had been a Kuomintang army from the old society, Xiaoqiang would have been fleeced for sure, and it wouldn't have been unusual for them to kill him and steal the goods.

After confirming that Xiaoqiang was heading to the Delong Firm on Qianmen Street to deliver the goods, the officer ordered his soldiers to move the wooden barricades and let him pass.

It was already seven o'clock in the evening, and most of the shops on Qianmen Street were closed. Xiaoqiang saw a shop called "Xianghe Noodle House" with light spilling out and the sound of voices inside. The door panels were stacked at the entrance, so it seemed they were still open. Xiaoqiang parked the car, locked it, pushed aside the thick, padded door curtain, and walked in.

"Sir, you've arrived. Please, come in. What would you like to eat?" A waiter in a plain blue cloth tunic, holding a greasy rag, hurried over to greet him.

Xiaoqiang walked to the counter and stared at the wooden plaques hanging neatly on the wall, where the dishes were written in neat calligraphy. It seemed this noodle shop was famous for chicken: chicken soup, chicken liver, chicken intestine, chicken feet, and chicken gizzards were all on the list.

"Give me a white-cut chicken, two chicken gizzards, two chicken livers, and two taels of warm Erguotou."

"Coming right up! Please, have a seat." After the waiter enthusiastically seated Xiaoqiang, he turned toward the kitchen and shouted, "One white-cut chicken, two chicken livers, and two gizzards!"

"Got it!" came the reply from the kitchen.

The shop was quite spacious. A black-lacquered counter, polished to a shine, sat by the entrance, next to several coarse pottery wine jars labeled with rough paper reading "Local Brew."

In the center of the hall, six square wooden tables were spaced out, each with four benches. On the wall facing the door, there were two vermilion pillars, each with a bamboo couplet: "Three cups of light wine to reward guests, one table of simple dishes to feast dear kin." In the middle stood an altar table with a wooden Maitreya Buddha lying there, belly exposed and laughing. A side door on the left led to the kitchen.

At one of the tables, three men in long robes, looking like intellectuals, were chatting as they ate.

"Professor Zhang, you really are generous, spending three hundred and fifty to buy your son a watch," one of the younger men said.

"Not at all, not at all. My son graduates from university next year. I haven't bought him anything decent in years, so I had to give him something big. I bought the watch to remind him to cherish time."

The man continued, "Professor Zhang, you said this Olade watch is American-made. I always thought the best watches were Swiss. This has really opened my eyes; I never expected the Americans could make such fine watches. They truly put the European ones to shame."

Hearing this, Cao Xiaoqiang felt like a bottle of mixed emotions had been overturned in his heart. "Damn it, I sold them for eighty, and this old guy turns around and sells them for three hundred and fifty? That’s just bullying! Do they think I’m an idiot?"

The man called Professor Zhang, who had graying hair, took a sip of wine and continued, "Assistant Professor Shen, you saw it—the craftsmanship of this watch is exquisite. It seems the Americans' mechanical precision has surpassed the Europeans'. Three hundred and fifty is really not expensive; back in the day, you couldn't get something this good for less than five hundred. I wanted to buy another one for myself and give my old one to my second son, but Boss Chen said he only imported forty watches in total. He notified the big watch collectors and wealthy families in this city that day. Those collectors brought their fellow enthusiasts, and would you believe it, they didn't even haggle—they just bought one of each model. The wealthy families didn't even blink. I heard that Boss Ma from the Jirui Chang Silk Store on Qianmen Street bought three by himself.

If I hadn't happened to come by to buy a watch today, I would have missed it. You know, some of the wealthy families didn't make it in time. After tomorrow, even if they come, they'll be sold out. You won't even find these at the Hengdeli watch shop; Delong Firm is the only one. Boss Chen and I are old acquaintances; he told me this himself, so it can't be false." After finishing, Professor Zhang took a sip of wine with a smug look on his face.

Xiaoqiang, meanwhile, downed a heavy gulp of Erguotou. He still felt unbalanced; in less than three days, all forty watches were sold out. This thousand-year-old city truly lived up to its name as the imperial capital—its purchasing power was formidable. But compared to Chen Weifang, he had only made a pittance. It was a huge loss. He blamed himself for never having done business before and not checking the market prices beforehand. A legitimate, monopolistic upstream supplier had been fleeced by a downstream retailer.

In 1949, Beiping had over 26,000 shops of various kinds, mostly concentrated in three major commercial districts: Qianmen-Dashilan, Wangfujing, and Xidan. Xiaoqiang made up his mind: tomorrow, he would visit more shops and try to sell the remaining stock for a higher price.

Xiaoqiang thought about going to Wangfujing. Unlike the Qianmen-Dashilan and Xidan districts, Wangfujing was close to the embassy district, so it emphasized "foreign, high-end, and new" goods. There were car dealerships like Taoyuan and Meihua, and watch and eyewear shops like Hengdeli and Daming. Thinking of this, he made his decision.

"Boss, give me a bowl of chicken soup noodles," Xiaoqiang called out. After losing blood, he felt especially hungry. Even with the gizzards, livers, and a whole white-cut chicken in his stomach, he still didn't feel full. Suddenly, a serious problem occurred to him—he didn't have any money on him! To be precise, he didn't have money from this era. Cao Xiaoqiang was stunned. He couldn't just dine and dash, could he? With his small build, he didn't have the capital for that, and he couldn't afford the loss of face.

It seemed he would have to negotiate with the boss. The man had a round face and small, smiling eyes; perhaps he was reasonable.

Xiaoqiang stood up and went to the counter, smiling apologetically. "Boss, it’s really unfortunate. I just arrived in Beiping from Tianjin, and I didn't check my wallet when I left. I didn't even realize it was empty. How about this: I’ll leave my watch as collateral, and I’ll come back to redeem it once I get my money tomorrow."

As he spoke, Xiaoqiang took off his Fiyta watch and handed it over. The boss of the Xianghe Noodle House took the watch, his eyes lighting up, but his face showed hesitation. "Sir, this foreign watch is too valuable. If I keep it in my small shop and something happens to it, I can't afford to pay for it."

"It’s fine, it’s fine," Xiaoqiang waved his hand repeatedly. "If you think this watch is too expensive, I’ll give you a cheaper one to hold. To be honest, I’m in the watch business. I’m here in Beidu to deliver goods; you can come with me to get one."

With that, Xiaoqiang walked out of the shop, climbed into his microvan, and took a random box of watches from the cardboard box he had opened during the road inspection.

"Look, brand new, but not as expensive as the one on my wrist. Even if you lose it, I won't ask you to pay. We’re in business, and we value our word. I won't go back on it." He shoved the watch box into the boss's hands. He returned to the shop to eat his large, steaming bowl of noodles, which were topped with clear, golden chicken oil. As he ate, he said, "So fragrant! This is truly authentic free-range chicken soup."

The waiter laughed, "Sir, you’re joking. All the chickens in the world are raised on farms, aren't they? Haha, but our Xianghe chickens are carefully selected. The fat—wow!—you can boil a pot and have half an inch of oil floating on top." Xiaoqiang thought to himself, "People in this era haven't seen the farmed chickens of the future, let alone the mutant chickens used by KFC. My comment was indeed nonsense."

The boss scolded the waiter in mock anger, "You and your loose tongue, get out of here."

He turned back to Xiaoqiang with a smile. "But what he said is true. Sir, if you want to eat chicken or drink chicken soup in the future, you can't go wrong with my Xianghe Noodle House. It’s absolutely authentic three-year-old Luhu hen."

"Haha, good!" Xiaoqiang replied.