Chapter 8: Target, the Village Distillery

"My mother beat me up. Honestly, sometimes I wonder if she's really my mother," Liu Qingwen grumbled under his breath.

The reason for the beating was simple: he had broken the bamboo board used for shelling soybeans at home.

Chai Jin had no patience for his complaints.

Hands clasped behind his back, he said, "Let's go. To the distillery."

Behind him, Liu Qingwen suddenly remembered something and caught up. "Jin, I heard something today. Did you pay off your father's debt yesterday?"

"I did." Chai Jin walked along the embankment under the night sky, his gaze sharp.

"Damn, where did you get the money?"

"Nine thousand yuan!"

"I made a trip to Zhonghai. Enough talk, hurry up."

Liu Qingwen

Chai Jin was growing impatient.

Mentioning the source of the money, Chai Jin suddenly recalled another matter. At this stage, the stock market was just beginning. The belief that buying stocks meant making money was deeply rooted among ordinary people.

If memory served, in his previous life, the government had introduced a thing called a subscription certificate to control the chaotic queues in the stock market.

Many people's first fortune was accumulated through those certificates.

This wave of wealth shouldn't slip by unnoticed.

Chai Jin began to plan again: early next year, he'd make another trip to Zhonghai.

With some cash in hand, he'd head to Shenzhen, feeling much more secure.

The sound of insects filled the air, mingling with the fragrance released by harvested rice, as the two walked together beneath the starlight, heading into the distance.

...

Zhang Aiming of Fragrant Rice Distillery was now in his fifties.

He was a man of few words, especially in recent years, growing ever more silent.

The reason was obvious: the distillery's sales had steadily declined.

For three consecutive years, there had been nothing but losses, and he'd already caught wind of trouble from above.

The winds of enterprise reform were blowing harder and harder. If things continued, dozens of workers at his factory would soon be out of work.

Every night, after the workers left, he'd pace the factory alone with his hands clasped behind his back, anxiously pondering the fate of the factory to which he'd devoted decades of emotion.

That night, as usual, he was pacing the factory, but was pulled into the kitchen by two young men from the village.

He knew Liu Qingwen—son of Liu Jianmin.

Always running over to Widow Wang's house, staring down her open collar.

That boy was notorious in the village for his bad behavior.

As for the Chai family's son, he'd heard about him too these past few days. Caused quite a stir, and somehow managed to come up with a large sum of money to settle a debt.

Unable to resist Liu Jianmin's son's persistent pleading, he finally cooked up the field frog meat they brought in the factory kitchen.

After a glass of wine, conversation flowed.

He'd expected these two to be bored and just looking for someone to chat with.

But then, the son of Chai Minguo made a proposal that left him speechless for a long moment.

He wanted to contract Fragrant Rice Distillery!

Zhang Aiming's brows furrowed, his face stern as he set down his cup.

"Enterprise reform is the trend. Some places are already trying out contracting, but where would you get the money to take over?"

Chai Jin cut straight to the point, pulling several wads of cash from his pocket. "Is thirty thousand enough?"

Liu Qingwen's eyes widened. "Jin, you really robbed Zhonghai, didn't you!"

Chai Jin frowned, "Don't interrupt. Let Uncle Zhang speak."

Zhang Aiming's brows knitted even tighter.

He stared repeatedly at the cash on the table.

After a long silence, he spoke. "Does your father, Chai Minguo, know about this?"

Chai Jin showed a maturity beyond his years. "This is my business. It has nothing to do with my father."

"Uncle Zhang, your family's recipe shouldn't be defeated by the fake, so-called 'strengthening' wines on the market."

"Nor should it be buried like this."

He might have been better off not mentioning it, for Zhang Aiming exploded in anger.

"Don't even mention those alcohol-mixed concoctions! Is that even wine? Sooner or later, someone's going to die from drinking it!"

He ranted on and on.

When he finally tired of it, his eyes met Chai Jin's by chance.

That single glance stunned Zhang Aiming.

The aura in those eyes was nothing like that of a seventeen- or eighteen-year-old youth.

On the contrary, his own outburst seemed immature before this young man.

A very odd feeling.

With real cash on the table, Zhang Aiming knew the Chai boy wasn't just here to talk.

He calmed down a bit. "Tell me. If the distillery really is contracted to you, what would you do?"

"What would I do?" Chai Jin smiled. "Within three months, I'll make our wine the best-selling in the county."

"As for how, let's first see if we're going to work together."

Instinctively, Zhang Aiming shook his head. "Young people are passionate. You think things are too simple, that's normal."

"Jin, your family is struggling. I don't know how you got the money, but don't throw it into this distillery pit. Use it to improve your father's life."

"Build a house. Your father has had a hard time raising you all alone."

"Uncle Zhang, do you think I'm joking?" Chai Jin's determination blazed.

"This concerns the livelihoods of dozens at the factory. Do you really want to see everyone, at their age, lose their jobs and have nowhere to go?"

These words struck a chord with Zhang Aiming.

He took another swallow of wine.

The taste burned straight to his heart, as if cut by a knife.

After a long pause, he finally spoke. "Then tell me your plan. I owe it to your father, Chai Minguo."

Chai Jin knew that if he didn't explain tonight, Zhang Aiming would never agree.

So he outlined a unique distribution method using small bottles.

Lowering the total price, appealing to the idea of savoring rather than drinking in excess, to capture the market.

Of course, he didn't go into detail about packaging or promotion.

Not because he didn't trust them, but because, after more than forty years of past life, he'd learned a lesson.

Revealing all your cards upfront is foolish.

Once someone has your plan, they'll kick you aside and do it themselves.

Why share the profits with you?

At first, Zhang Aiming thought Chai Jin had the typical flaws of youth—talking big, unable to follow through.

But as he listened, he grew serious, studying Chai Minguo's youngest son.

Clear thinking, practical methods.

Small bottles conquering the market—a promising approach.

More importantly, he sensed Chai Jin was holding back much more.

Suddenly, Zhang Aiming felt old, already left behind by the market.

Maybe it was time to give the young a chance?

With this change of mind, Zhang Aiming finally said, "Contracting the distillery requires approval from the State Assets Committee."

"I'm just the director; I can't make the decision."

Chai Jin felt a weight lift from his heart—things were more than halfway there.

With the distillery losing money year after year, the government likely already planned to reform.

If someone stepped up to take over, why not let him try?

However, Chai Jin added, "Uncle Zhang, there's one more thing. I hope you'll cooperate with me."