Chapter 165: Arrival in Kyoto

The few of them nodded and then began to discuss Chai Jin’s trip north.

Liu Qingwen was still somewhat worried and proposed to accompany Chai Jin.

However, Chai Jin refused, telling him to stay put in Shenzhen.

Chai Jin stayed another day to arrange matters concerning the mobile phone factory.

The construction team did not require much of Chai Jin’s attention, as they used Feng Haodong’s pharmaceutical factory crew.

The construction of the factory’s prefabricated housing was straightforward, and the proposed timeline was to complete the main structure within half a year, allowing for the installation of assembly line equipment and the like, which applied to the winery as well.

Calculating the timeframe, he estimated that after the Lunar New Year, he would need to finalize the equipment procurement and related issues.

Later, he called Chen Ni and Cai Dazhi over.

After witnessing firsthand the discussion between Chai Jin, Xu Jiayin, and the construction team at the site, Cai Dazhi offered a helpless, wry smile.

What a comical misunderstanding that had turned out to be.

Having settled the affairs here, Chai Jin and Jiyuan boarded a flight heading north.

They arrived at 11:00 AM on October 6th.

Stepping out of the Capital Airport, Chai Jin and Jiyuan pulled out a brick phone and made a call.

Qiu Zhili, twenty-six years old.

His specific background was unknown; he was the person arranged by Feng Haodong to receive them.

The two had originally agreed on an airport pickup the previous night, but Qiu Zhili had mentioned on the phone that he drank too much the night before and lost track of time.

Instead, he gave Chai Jin an address and told him to make his own way there.

Chai Jin didn't dwell on it.

The two of them hailed a taxi to the given address.

During the National Day holiday, the festive atmosphere in the capital was usually much stronger than elsewhere.

Tiananmen Square was a sea of people, with many holding small national flags standing in awe beneath the national flag.

Passing by the statue of the great leader, Chai Jin asked the driver to pull over for a moment.

He pushed open the car door, bowed toward the statue at Tiananmen Square to pay his highest respects, and then got back into the car.

Although the place was packed, very few young people made the gesture that Chai Jin did.

The driver, a seasoned Beijing local, was touched by Chai Jin’s action. While turning the steering wheel, he spoke up.

"Young man, you're from down south, aren't you?"

Chai Jin sat in the back and smiled. "From Shenzhen."

"I knew it! People coming from the south are obviously very different from us Beijingers—they've got this real drive and momentum about them!"

Gazing out at the passing alleys, Chai Jin replied calmly, "Is that so?"

The driver didn't talk any less because of Chai Jin’s lukewarm response. Being a chatty local, he asked with high enthusiasm, "I hear it's especially easy to make money down south nowadays. Is that true?"

Chai Jin smiled. "It depends on what you do."

"Driving a taxi, for instance. That's my specialty," the local driver continued.

Chai Jin didn't quite know how to answer that question.

The notion that money was just waiting to be picked up in the south had already rooted itself deep inside everyone's hearts.

Moreover, the rumors grew more and more outrageous—stories were everywhere about people going down there for a month and returning driving a car.

Carrying a brick phone and clipping a pager to one's waistband were success stories found on every corner.

The problem was, what difference would it make whether you drove a taxi in Shenzhen or drove one in Beijing?

Perhaps the local driver was genuinely tempted to go to Shenzhen, which was why he kept questioning Chai Jin incessantly.

Chai Jin maintained his politeness throughout the ride.

Finally, the car arrived at the destination.

At the entrance of an old residential compound, a sign hung outside reading something like a railway workers' residential compound.

At this stage, the residential compounds in the capital possessed a very distinct character.

These compounds were housing allocations for employees of various work units and state-owned factories.

Most of the legendary "offspring of prominent families" rumored to be in Shenzhen were actually second-generation youths from these very compounds.

Bidding farewell to the chatty driver, Chai Jin made another call to Qiu Zhili at the entrance of the compound.

Before long, a young man walked out wearing thick leather shoes and holding a brick phone.

He was dressed quite flamboyantly in white flared trousers and had his hair permed into curls.

He looked extremely fashionable by the capital's standards, but walking down a street in Shenzhen, anyone would probably turn around and mutter, "Where did this bumpkin come from? It's the nineties and he's still wearing flared pants."

The young man merely glanced at Chai Jin, dismissed him, and stood by the entrance to continue waiting.

Chai Jin also assumed this person wasn't Qiu Zhili and paid him no mind.

After a few minutes of deeply awkward silence—

The young man ran out of patience, picked up his brick phone, and dialed Chai Jin's number.

Beep, beep, beep...

The brick phone in Chai Jin's hand rang.

At this point, both of them felt awkward.

Qiu Zhili turned back and stared at Chai Jin.

Chai Jin smiled and raised the brick phone in his hand. "Brother Qiu?"

Qiu Zhili put away his phone, narrowed his eyes, and walked over toward Chai Jin.

He looked past Chai Jin and asked, "Where's your boss?"

Chai Jin smiled and extended a hand. "My name is Chai Jin."

"Oh, holy crap!"

Qiu Zhili looked astonished. "Brother Dong didn't tell me you were so young."

"Is that something someone your age could pull off?"

The special train Feng Haodong managed to secure in Beijing was obtained precisely through Qiu Zhili’s extensive network of connections.

Of course he knew what that special train was going to be used for.

Chai Jin being so young inevitably came as a surprise.

Chai Jin wore a polite smile. "I'll be troubling Brother Qiu these past couple of days."

Only then did Qiu Zhili realize he had lost his composure.

He quickly said, "Trouble my ass! Brother Dong’s guests are my guests. All of us brothers take Brother Dong’s lead!"

"Come on, let's head inside. I've arranged an apartment for the two of you."

"Later this evening, I'll take you out to meet some people, and tomorrow I'll take you to my dad's office to process the paperwork for the special train."

Qiu Zhili's hearty, straightforward northern temperament burst forth.

However, halfway through their walk—

Qiu Zhili inadvertently caught sight of the nine ritual scars on top of Jiyuan's head.

He looked at him with a strange expression. "Brother, are you actually a monk? They burned holes right into your scalp—does that hurt?"

Jiyuan hadn't expected Qiu Zhili to suddenly shift the topic onto him.

Instinctively, he glanced at Chai Jin.

Chai Jin smiled. "A monk from Putuo Temple, now secularized."

"Putuo Temple?" Qiu Zhili thought about it as they walked and muttered, "I heard a while back that a monk from Putuo Temple was speculating on subscription warrants in Shenzhen."

"Brother, do you know him?"

Jiyuan hurriedly brought his palms together and lowered his head. "I don't know him."

Chai Jin didn't expose him. This had practically become the biggest stain of Jiyuan's life, and he never brought it up anymore.

Qiu Zhili went on relentlessly, "Can you believe that? Even monks couldn't help but come out of seclusion to make money."

"Too bad, I had a trainload of people ready to go back then, planning to haul them over to get filthy rich."

"But guess what? The old man in my family wouldn't agree, saying subscription warrants are the product of the evils of capitalism, and we've been receiving proletarian education in the compound since we were kids."

"Anyone else could touch them, but we simply couldn't. Tell me, how can I not be furious!"

Qiu Zhili kept slapping his thighs in continuous regret.

Everyone knew that after this wave of wealth, there would definitely never be a second wave in the Chinese stock market.

Even after they entered the apartment, Qiu Zhili kept rambling on endlessly.