Chapter 13: Gathering Strength for the Future

Wei Jiaochang’s words suddenly cast an awkward air between Chai Jin and Wang Xiaoli.

Chai Jin himself took it in stride; after all, with decades behind him, his heart had long grown a tough callus and he hardly cared. But Wang Xiaoli, for all her composure, was still only eighteen. Girls of this era harbored pure, innocent thoughts, and being mistaken for a couple was something almost impossible to address openly.

On the way to see Wang Xiaoli home, Chai Jin pedaled in silence, his mind still preoccupied with what to do next.

It wasn’t until they reached Wang Xiaoli’s front door that Chai Jin dismounted, offering her a smile. “Thank you, Sister Li. If it weren’t for you, I’d probably be wandering in circles.”

In the county seat of Yuanli in 1991, there was an uncommon tranquility—no dazzling neon, none of the blaring bass that would later pollute city nights. The moonlight spilling from above seemed pure and untouched.

Beneath that gentle glow, Wang Xiaoli’s cheeks were rosy and endearing. She lifted her lovely face, trying her best to sound casual as she said, “It’s nothing—you’re my little brother, after all.”

“Are you staying at the guesthouse tonight?” she asked.

Chai Jin shook his head with a wry smile. “No, I’ll walk home. It’ll take a few hours, but I’ll make it. The glass and packaging materials for the factory are arriving tomorrow morning, and I need to supervise the workers with the bottling and packing.”

“That won’t do—what if you run into wolves on the mountain at night?” Wang Xiaoli blurted out instinctively. Then, thinking better of it, she handed him her bicycle. “Take my bike. Just ride it home, and when I visit your sister in a few days, I’ll pick it up then.”

Chai Jin considered for a moment, then accepted. “Thank you, Sister Li.”

He took the bike, swung one leg over the seat, and pedaled away from the housing complex. Behind him, Wang Xiaoli let out a long breath, rubbing her burning cheeks, a little vexed with herself. “What’s wrong with me? He’s my little brother...”

…

By the time Chai Jin returned to Daogu Village, it was nearly dawn. Not wanting to disturb his sleeping family, he headed straight to the distillery dormitory.

Even with only the faintest hint of daylight, the sound of trucks arriving at the factory could be heard—the glass bottles and the ordered packaging paper had arrived. Chai Jin didn’t show himself, leaving Zhang Aimin to organize the workers in receiving the goods. Then came the packing process.

While the factory bustled, Chai Jin sat in Zhang Aimin’s office, planning out management strategies. The factory was small, and everyone pitched in wherever needed, but this couldn’t last. There needed to be clear divisions: production, packaging, marketing.

Only then could efficiency reach its peak.

By noon, Liu Qingwen burst in, waving a sheet of the new packaging paper, excitement in his voice. “Hey, Jin, who did you get to write these words on the packaging? Every line rings so true! And this drunken Li Bai portrait—is that someone you commissioned, too?”

Liu Qingwen was practically buzzing with energy. In fact, the whole factory was caught up in the buzz that day, everyone talking about the new packaging.

“Little Li Bai Liquor”—that was the name Chai Jin had chosen for their new 42-proof line, aimed squarely at the youth market. Each bottle’s label bore a portrait of Li Bai—not the austere sage of textbooks, but a tipsy, altogether endearing Li Bai, each with a different expression or pose. Beneath each portrait, a heartfelt aphorism was printed—plain words, not lofty, but ones that brought comfort and a sense of nostalgia.

After all, having been steeped in motivational quotes on social media in his previous life, Chai Jin could easily conjure up a few pithy truths about life. These pithy lines were the fruit of several nights spent writing by lamplight. As for the drunken Li Bai portraits, those had indeed cost him a pretty penny to commission, explaining why his funds had dwindled so quickly.

But Chai Jin had no time to debate these things. He looked up, his tone calm. “Are the bottles ready?”

Liu Qingwen, reluctant to let go of the packaging paper, nodded. “All done—we can start bottling this afternoon. Jin, you’re incredible. I’m a blockhead when it comes to books, but even I want to collect these! There’s just one thing: everyone’s wondering—can we really sell these little 100ml bottles? Isn’t the trend now to offer bigger bottles for the same price?”

Chai Jin kept writing, barely looking up. “That’s not your concern. Just supervise your end of things—go on, I’m busy.”

“But, Jin—”

“That’s enough. Get back to work.”

While the new packaging had ignited hope among the factory workers, doubts remained. Such tiny bottles—gone in a few sips—who would buy them? It was only natural to worry, and the chatter was constant. But Chai Jin let it all pass through one ear and out the other; he didn’t give it a second thought.

Let others’ suspicious glances burn like ghostly lanterns—on my own night path, I walk boldly, without hesitation.

This was Chai Jin’s attitude in this new life.

That evening, when the workers had left, Zhang Aimin returned to his office and found Chai Jin still there. Removing his coat and setting it aside, he brought over the accounts, laying them before Chai Jin with concern.

“There’s not a penny of working capital left in the factory,” he said anxiously. “In three or four days, we’ll need to pay wages, and today the higher-ups called about the contract fees. Xiao Jin, do you still have any money?”

Chai Jin glanced up at Zhang Aimin’s worried face, rubbed the bridge of his nose, and set aside his work. “All I have left is two thousand yuan in cash.”

“Two thousand?” Zhang Aimin was instantly flustered. “How are we supposed to manage? I warned you not to be so aggressive! Sales are flat, and you come in expanding everything. What now? If dozens of people don’t get paid, they’ll have my head!”

It wasn’t that Zhang Aimin was overly anxious—he’d had enough of these days. The past year had seen him constantly begging the authorities for money just to pay wages. Now, not only was there no support, but they were being asked to hand over money instead.

Sales hadn’t risen at all in nearly a month, and wage expenses had doubled. How could this hole be filled?

Chai Jin smiled and steadied him. “Sit down, Uncle Zhang. Don’t get worked up at your age.”

“You... this child, sigh!” Zhang Aimin was exasperated but fond of the boy. He sat down.

Chai Jin countered, “Don’t we still have a few days?”

“A few days? It’s already urgent!”

“Alright, Uncle Zhang. I know what I’m doing.”

Chai Jin’s calm reassured Zhang Aimin, who stared at him in puzzlement. “You have some plan you haven’t told me, don’t you? And these small bottles—will the market really accept them?”

Chai Jin paused, then replied, “There are people out there building up the powder for us. If all goes well, tomorrow that powder will ignite and shake all of Yuanli County to its core.”