Chapter 48: Without Money, You Are Nothing

"However, with this notebook, while I can guarantee his removal from the newspaper office, after all, he is Hong Jiang's nephew. To see him severely punished is rather unrealistic." At his age, well into his fifties or sixties, he understood the intricate relationships of power and would not make any rash promises.

Zhang Ye was well aware that as long as Hong Jiang remained the deputy director of the county committee and no external forces intervened, it would be almost impossible to truly bring down Gao Ming. In his previous life, for this very reason, Gao Ming lost his position as deputy editor at the newspaper office, but he never went to prison; instead, he simply transferred to another province.

But now, Zhang Ye had nothing to worry about. He had already handed the evidence over to Yuan Yuqing, and he believed it would be only a matter of days before Hong Jiang lost his influence or was even directly stripped of his position. Without his uncle’s protection, Gao Ming would find it much harder to extricate himself from this trouble.

With that, the topic was dropped. Zhang Ye lingered another half hour before taking his leave. Though Gu Changming tried to insist he stay for dinner, Zhang Ye, not wanting to inconvenience them, politely excused himself and left.

With a few hours to spare, Zhang Ye did not shirk his responsibilities but went to help out at the fruit shop.

During this time, Zhao Haidong’s chatter was, as always, impossible to avoid—he was well on his way to becoming a true talker.

Ignoring Zhao Haidong’s incessant talking, Zhang Ye went straight to Liu Wentao and asked, “How much are we selling each day now? How many watermelons do we still have in storage?” He had left these matters in Liu Wentao’s hands.

“All the watermelons from Dongzi’s hometown have been transported and sold out. Even the ones in the warehouse are more than half gone. The money we’ve made so far is more than enough to pay back all the watermelon farmers in Qiyuan Town, with quite a bit to spare.” Though the daily routine of rushing to the fruit shop at dawn was exhausting, Liu Wentao found himself feeling a satisfaction and pride he had never experienced before.

Now, when he saw Zhou Hanmei, he no longer felt inferior. Even Zhou Hanmei’s father, whom he had met a few days ago, had shown a rare moment of kindness, greeting him with smiles and laughter. This radical change left him deeply moved.

Just a week ago, Zhou Hanmei’s father had thrown him out of the house, clearly looking down on him. The reason for the change was obvious to Liu Wentao.

Because of this, he took the fruit shop business even more seriously, memorizing bookkeeping details that had once annoyed him. He recited these details to Zhang Ye with a newfound professionalism.

“These past few days, Wu Dongjun’s team has sent trucks to pick up several loads as well. Their sales are no less than ours. Given our current stock, we can only hold out for a few more days,” he said, with a hint of regret. Business had never been better—if only it could go on forever.

But he understood that their success was largely due to perfect timing and circumstances. If it hadn’t been for the rainstorm that destroyed the upstream dam in Qiyuan Town, flooding the watermelon fields with polluted water, and if it hadn’t been for the article in the Lihua Morning Post that kept those polluted watermelons out of Lihua County and protected their market, such prosperity would have been impossible.

He had no idea that all these events had been orchestrated by Zhang Ye behind the scenes.

The rarer something is, the more people value it. The rationing policy set to start tomorrow had already driven housewives into a frenzy. Today’s sales had far surpassed even the peak days before. In fact, since the newspaper published that article, there had never been a lull in watermelon sales; today was simply the most intense.

By the time Zhang Ye was so busy his back ached, the rush had finally subsided.

Seeing the fruit shop emptied of watermelons once again, Zhang Ye considered for a moment, then left Liu Guangxiang and Chen Fang to man the front while he called Liu Wentao and Zhao Haidong into the back room.

“At our current sales rate, how many more days can our warehouse supply last?” Zhang Ye asked.

“Five days. If you count Wu Dongjun’s side, even less—maybe just two days before they’re all gone.” Liu Wentao paused, then hesitantly added, “Since we’re about to sell out, should we look for new suppliers?”

Such booming business was too precious to lose for lack of stock. He had been mulling it over for days, but with Zhang Ye away, he hadn’t been able to discuss it until now.

“We’ll talk about new suppliers later.” Zhang Ye nodded, making his decision quickly. “Let’s set aside a thousand pounds of watermelons for ourselves and for Guangxiang and the others out front. Take them home or eat them yourselves, as you see fit. As for the rest, we’ll coordinate with Wu Dongjun’s team and sell them all within three days. Everyone will have to work a bit harder today, count the stock carefully, and make sure we know exactly how much we’re selling each day.”

Zhao Haidong nodded, then hesitantly asked, “What will we do when we’re sold out?” Judging by Zhang Ye’s manner, he didn’t seem eager to find new suppliers.

“That’s right. Now that Qiyuan Town has no more watermelons, we could buy from outside. With business so hot, there’s no way we’d lose money,” Liu Wentao urged anxiously.

Every day was money in their pockets now. Over the past week, they’d handled more cash than some factory workers earned in a lifetime. The excitement still hadn’t worn off.

“After these next few days, there won’t be much profit left. The watermelon boom is just a temporary thing—the price is already inflated. If we bring in watermelons from elsewhere, the price will drop and it won’t be worth the effort. So I’ve decided to look for something more promising to do next.” From the beginning, Zhang Ye had seen selling watermelons as a one-time opportunity. Once this wave passed, he wouldn’t touch it again; the profit would be too low to justify the work.

As their watermelon stock dwindled, Zhang Ye was already planning his next business venture.

The events of the past few days had made it increasingly clear to Zhang Ye that for someone without power or influence, the only way to do what he truly wanted in this world was to become rich and powerful.

In this economic society, power commanded status, but money was the foundation of survival. Without money, one was nothing.