Chapter 00004: I Really Want to Improve
# I Really Want to Improve
Chapter 4
Novel: 1979 Golden Age
Chapter 4: I Really Want to Improve
At 6:30 in the morning, Chen Qi got up.
The noise outside was too much—everyone was busy cooking and preparing for work, making it impossible to sleep.
He grabbed his nylon socks and put them on, tucking his long johns into the socks.
These socks were blue with a checkered pattern, with a prominent heel area.
They were sturdy, easy to wash, brightly colored, and elastic, but they didn’t absorb sweat well, which often led to smelly feet.
Especially in winter, when he’d take his feet out to warm them by the stove, they’d sizzle and smoke.
A pair of nylon socks like this cost 2-3 yuan, which was something most people couldn’t afford.
In the future, cotton products would become expensive, and synthetic fibers would be cheap, but now it was the opposite—cotton was cheap, and synthetic fibers were expensive.
For example, the famous "Dacron" was actually polyester.
So, what did poor people wear for socks back then? They wore cloth socks, which had no elasticity and tended to slip, so they came with two straps to tie around the calves, just like what people wore in ancient times.
Monks and Taoist priests also wore these cloth socks.
In a few years, as the textile industry developed, nylon socks would become common in every household, and people born in the 70s, 80s, and 90s would have all worn them.
There was even a saying back then: "High-waisted pants, white shoes, and nylon socks showing halfway—that was the height of fashion!"
"Stay at home and don’t cause trouble!"
"If anything happens, come find me at the bookstore!"
After breakfast, his parents left for work, and Yu Xiu Li, his mother, gave him instructions as if he were still a child.
In their eyes, their child would never grow up.
Even at 20, they’d tell him not to open the door for strangers, and at 30, they’d still buy him snacks.
Chen Qi continued to live as a "left-behind child," but he was busy.
After closing the door, he pulled out some draft papers from under his bed and sat at the table to continue writing, occasionally referencing the Geographical Atlas.
In his past life, he had worked at a media company and later started his own business, writing all sorts of things, long and short.
His writing skills were solid, but now he deliberately wrote a bit weaker because he wanted to freeload!
In this era, intellectuals were highly valued and well-treated.
Whether it was novels or scripts, if a magazine or film studio saw potential in your work, they’d invite you over to revise it.
They’d cover your travel expenses, provide food and lodging, and even give you a daily stipend.
Take Yu Hua, for example.
Back then, he was just a naive dentist who submitted a piece to Beijing Literature.
The editor called him long-distance and said, "Your writing is good, but the ending isn’t uplifting. Can you change it to be more positive?" Yu Hua replied, "As long as you publish it, I’ll make the whole thing uplifting!" So, he happily went to the magazine’s guesthouse, freeloading on food and lodging, and even got a two-yuan daily stipend.
He stayed there for a whole month, and when he went home, not only did he not lose money, but he also had a few dozen extra yuan in his pocket.
But in Chen Qi’s eyes, a month was too short! He freeloaded by the year! Magazines might struggle with that, but film studios had no problem.
Those screenwriters practically lived at the studios—they were all freeloaders.
So, Chen Qi wasn’t writing a novel; he was writing a literary script.
Scripts paid more than novels—unless it was a full-length novel.
"I don’t want to live in the alley!"
"I want to stay in a guesthouse!"
He buried himself in his work, determined not to have to empty the chamber pot.
As he wrote, Huang Zhanying’s voice came from outside, tinged with a bit of crying: "Chen Qi, are you there?"
"I’m here, I’m here!"
"Oh, what’s wrong?"
He opened the door and saw the girl with tear-stained cheeks and a gloomy expression.
He quickly let her in and asked, "What happened?"
"Yesterday, Auntie Wang came to our house to talk about selling tea. My parents actually agreed!"
"Why did they agree?"
"They work at the same unit, and there’s only one job opening. They’ve already decided to give it to my brother. He just graduated from middle school, didn’t get into high school, and is just sitting at home unemployed... Wuwu, I don’t want to sell tea..."
Huang Zhanying wiped her eyes, unsure if she was crying about selling tea or her parents’ favoritism.
Chen Qi wasn’t great at empathy, but he knew when to be serious and when to joke around.
He said, "So, you’re going to sell tea?"
"Yes!"
"That’s great! I’ll go too!"
He acted very excited.
"I’ve been worried about what to do on my own. With you there, I won’t be scared. You’re even better at fighting than I am."
"Come on, you’re a guy!" Huang Zhanying pouted.
"I’m weak! Who’s as strong as you, like Zhang Fei? Actually, I think you’re perfect for this job. You’re bold, smart, and a natural leader. Back when we were sent to the countryside, you were the leader of the educated youth. It’s just a shame you haven’t had much chance to shine. Now, with this cooperative, I think you’re more suited for it than anyone. This is a vast world with endless possibilities. I fully support you!"
Some people like to depend on others, while others like to be depended on.
Huang Zhanying was the latter.
She felt a bit embarrassed by the praise and said, "But... but we’re just selling tea. What can we really achieve?"
"There’s a lot more to it than that!"
Chen Qi stood up and looked outside to make sure no one was eavesdropping, then whispered, "Auntie Wang said there are 80,000 unemployed youth in the district, right?"
"Yes, so what?"
"Do you know what kind of social problems it would cause if those 80,000 people couldn’t find jobs?"
"Uh..."
Huang Zhanying thought for a moment and said, "I get that. The government takes employment very seriously."
"More than seriously—it’s a top priority! Let me tell you, policies are flexible. They can change direction based on the bigger picture. To address unemployment, the government has already relaxed many restrictions. Don’t think selling tea is just selling tea. For example, can we also sell sunflower seeds? What about salted broad beans? Can we add a few chairs for customers to rest? Or even put on some performances, rent a space, and open a proper shop? Or, think even bigger—Guangdong has set up the Shekou Industrial Zone, and China and the U. S. have established diplomatic relations. Foreign goods will keep pouring in. Can we get some of those goods to sell?"
Huang Zhanying gasped, shocked.
"Isn’t that speculation and profiteering?"
"Hey, remember what I just said. In the face of the bigger picture, some compromises can be made. Of course, don’t go overboard. Just do it on a small scale, and the higher-ups will turn a blind eye. What we need to do now is adjust our mindset. Don’t think selling tea is shameful. No matter which way the wind blows, we’ll stand firm."
"Wow, how do you know all this?"
"I read a lot of random books. I just know a little."
"I don’t fully understand, but it sounds impressive."
Huang Zhanying was lucky.
She was the first to taste the big pie Chen Qi had drawn after his transmigration.
She naturally developed an entrepreneurial mindset and said excitedly, "You should tell me more in the future, Comrade Chen Qi. I really want to improve!"
…………
Chen Jianjun and Yu Xiu Li had been trying to find a way to get their son a job.
Unfortunately, the job market was tough.
The good positions were already taken, the decent ones were out of their reach, and the bad ones were fiercely competitive.
In the end, the only options left were worse than selling tea.
It was like the struggle of a 985 graduate with a master’s degree earning only 5,000 yuan a month—cutthroat competition.
At this moment, it was just like back then...
Every family had its own difficulties.
Just two days later, all 13 unemployed youth Auntie Wang had recruited agreed to sell tea.
Other streets in Chongwen District also started forming cooperatives—some made bamboo curtains, others sharpened knives and scissors, some did engraving, hand-knitted sweaters, or painted doors and windows.
It was a bustling scene, just like any previous campaign, and it was in full swing.
Meanwhile, a small number of individual businesses began to appear in the streets and alleys.
They didn’t have licenses and weren’t officially recognized, lurking in the shadows like rats, watching the tide of reform.
(There’s an image inserted in the text.
Let me know if it affects your reading experience.
That’s all...)
(End of Chapter)