Chapter Eighty-One: Preparing for the Return Journey

Lu Kun and Li Erfu, the fat man, were getting along splendidly. Of course, this was merely a surface-level camaraderie. Lu Kun had something to ask of Li Erfu—he wanted to leverage Li’s connections to tap into foreign capital, to drape the Huachao Supermarket chain in the guise of Hong Kong investment.

Don’t misunderstand. Lu Kun had no intention of letting Li Erfu buy shares in Huakun Supermarket; he merely wanted him to help Liu Liping obtain Hong Kong residency.

Once Liu Liping had Hong Kong identity, Lu Kun could easily register a shell company in Hong Kong under her name, then use that company to make a small capital injection into Huakun Supermarket as an “external investor.” After such maneuvers, the Huakun chain would be seen as having a Hong Kong backing, allowing it to benefit from various government tax reductions and exemptions without worrying about losing control or influence over Huakun Supermarket.

With the government’s generous tax breaks, Huakun Supermarket’s growth would accelerate dramatically.

Additionally, giving Liu Liping Hong Kong status was also a way to keep an escape route open. There is a saying in China about “settling accounts after autumn,” and another about “slaughtering the pig.” If, in the future, Lu Kun or Huakun Supermarket ever offended someone too powerful to cross, Liu Liping’s Hong Kong identity would at least ensure the safety of herself and her child.

This was not mere alarmism, nor groundless anxiety. The way Lu Kun had speculated on the price of sand ginger was a latent risk; should the authorities ever decide to investigate in earnest, his fate might not be much better than the infamous tycoon of the H family who languished in prison for over a decade.

This was an era of chaos, a time when wildfires raged, and “politics” commanded the gun and directed society’s course.

Illegal business operations, insider trading, leaking confidential information, corporate bribery…

Among businessmen guilty of such crimes, that invisible hand could grab a handful whenever it wished.

Yet, curiously...

The one who bribed ended up behind bars.

The one who accepted the bribe lived free and easy—even in prison, their salary was paid as usual.

As for why Lu Kun didn’t arrange Hong Kong identity for himself, the fate of swarms of Hong Kong capital flooding in like locusts, only to be almost completely wiped out in the end, made it clear. Foreign capital was doomed to be marginalized and never allowed to speak for itself.

Li Erfu, for his part, had spent years traveling between Guangzhou, Hong Kong, and Southeast Asia, likely cultivating many contacts—perhaps even with a way to secure Hong Kong residency.

Li Erfu’s main business was processing jade and rare woods.

And Angui Province was a major producer of rosewood.

If Li Erfu wanted to expand his business, Angui was a hurdle he couldn’t avoid.

In Angui, Li Erfu lacked both connections and acquaintances. To move rosewood safely out of the province, he needed local toughs to guide and protect the way.

That was why Li Erfu invited Lu Kun for tea. Businessmen never rise early for nothing.

“Brother Lu, my phone number’s on here. If you need anything, just call my big mobile,” Li Erfu said with a smile, handing Lu Kun a business card before slinging his bag and leaving.

“Big mobile?” Lu Kun was momentarily puzzled, then solemnly accepted the card.

At the time in Guangzhou, most bosses used pagers; the big mobile was quite rare.

Making calls with a big mobile was a fashionable thing then. If you made a call with one on the street, everyone would look at you with envy—it was far more impressive than luxury cars of later eras.

However, in the early nineties, using a big mobile was troublesome—expensive fees and awkward to carry.

Its size was like a brick; you needed a special bag, or someone to carry it for you.

There was even a joke: a boss carrying a big mobile meets a mugger, and with a single swing can disable him—far more effective than the walnut-smashing Nokias of later days.

...

“Brother Kun, what did that fat guy just give you?” Liu Shixun asked, mouth still full of shrimp dumplings as Lu Kun returned.

“Just a phone number,” Lu Kun shot him a glare. “Even eating can’t keep your mouth shut!”

“What’s so special? Just a big mobile. When we get home, I’ll ask my mom to buy me one too,” Liu Shixun, feeling slighted, pouted.

“Ha!” Lu Kun laughed. “Big mobiles aren’t easy to buy. Even here in Guangzhou, you’d be hard-pressed to find one.”

“So...how did that big, dumb, hulking guy get one?” Liu Shixun scratched his head.

Lu Kun’s face darkened as he glared fiercely at him.

Liu Shixun was getting a bit too full of himself! His father might control Ping’an Town and reach into Gui A County, but he was far from being able to influence things across provinces.

“That was probably brought from Hong Kong by Boss Li,” Lu Kun explained, unusually patient.

Privately, though, he grumbled—the big mobile was truly ugly, hideous beyond compare.

...

After breakfast, Lu Kun took Liu Shixun and the brothers Cheng Yuan and Cheng Hao to the streets for a grand shopping spree.

After all, it wasn’t easy for them to travel so far; they had to bring gifts for family and friends.

Lu Kun, having tasted “Taotaoju Last Month” from Taotaoju and “Lianrong Mooncake” from Lianxianglou, was quite taken with them and decided to buy some for the Liu family and his two daughters.

Besides Cantonese mooncakes, Guangzhou’s Chicken Pastry and Wife Cake were also famous.

Chicken Pastry, originally called “Small Wind Pastry,” was golden in color, both crisp and soft, sweet and savory, with a rich, fragrant taste—sure to suit Liu’s palate.

Wife Cake was sweet but not cloying, another delicacy, but what attracted Lu Kun most was its heartwarming name and the moving legend behind it.

Yes, that must be bought.

...

Liu Shixun had brought plenty of money from home, but, unfamiliar with the city, he hadn’t dared spend it.

Now, at last, he could indulge himself.

He followed Lu Kun, ordering two of everything.

They shopped all morning, and by the end, everyone was loaded down with all sorts of gifts.

Passersby stared, thinking some family was preparing for a grand celebration.

“I’m exhausted,” Liu Shixun dumped the heap of goods he’d been carrying onto the table, then collapsed onto the bed, sprawled in the shape of the character “too.”

After half a day of shopping, Lu Kun was tired as well, his throat dry and hoarse.

The brothers Cheng Yuan and Cheng Hao, meanwhile, kept their faces tense, as if “strangers keep out” was written across their faces.

“You two go wash up and take a nap. We’ll meet again in the cafeteria for lunch,” Lu Kun said, clearing his throat.

After the brothers returned to their room, Lu Kun ignored the corpse-like Liu Shixun sprawled on the bed and went off to find clothes and take a shower.