Chapter Forty-Nine: The Next Target

“So you’re really just going to give up like that?” Liu Wentao was still reluctant, but when he saw the resolute look in Zhang Ye’s eyes, he swallowed the rest of his words.

He knew that Zhang Ye had changed a lot recently, and possessed remarkable foresight and vision. Since he had already made his decision, it was clear he wouldn’t easily change his mind.

Thinking this, Liu Wentao quickly pressed, “Do you have some new idea?” That was the only way it made sense. After all, they had experienced firsthand how profitable watermelons were. Even if future profits weren’t as high as now, continuing like this for a year would still earn them more than working in a factory—perhaps much more.

“Let’s hear it!” Zhao Haidong was interested now too. After these days of wild success, his enthusiasm for business had been fully awakened. The thought of making money made him excited, and he hadn’t even visited the arcade across from the fruit shop these past few days.

“Computer house,” Zhang Ye said, glancing at Liu Wentao and Zhao Haidong.

“What’s that?” Liu Wentao hadn’t caught it, or rather, didn’t know what it was.

The computer house was the predecessor of the internet café, emerging in the mid to late nineties. At this time, perhaps there were none yet in China, but Zhang Ye knew firsthand how profitable it could be.

Back then, Wu Dongjun opened a computer house in Lihua County, and Zhang Ye became a regular. The games, though simple and monotonous by today’s standards, were wildly popular and full of passion. He remembered it vividly, the excitement burned into his memory.

That was the lowest period of his life, yet also the first time since the scar on his face that he felt his blood boil.

“Is it something to do with computers?” Zhao Haidong, curious about such novel things, had some idea. There was a computer in the principal’s office at their school. Whenever the principal was away, they’d sneak in and touch it, driven by curiosity.

“Yes, it’s about computers. You buy a few, rent them out for people to play games on, charge three or five yuan per hour, making money every day. It’s a business that can run long-term. Watermelons and fruit shops are seasonal—good business in summer, deserted in winter. Even if you make money, it’s never much. That’s why I decided to do this business.”

When the watermelon sales began to soar, Zhang Ye realized he needed to start thinking about his next step. Seeing Wu Dongjun again sparked some ideas, and after a few days of deliberation, he made his decision—to open a computer house, an internet café.

Though compared to his previous life, this computer house might appear a year earlier in Lihua County, Zhang Ye was confident it would still become popular and reach the heights he remembered.

Computers themselves were rare and fascinating things. Given the chance, countless teenagers, young adults, even middle-aged people would want to try them.

“Alright, if you say so, I’ll follow you. I don’t know what this computer house is, but I trust your judgment. You’ve got the eye for business, and I feel secure making money with you.” Liu Wentao had spent years in prison, missing out on a lot. He knew how quickly things changed outside. Though he didn’t really know what computers were, he decided to trust Zhang Ye.

After all, the watermelon success set a precedent. He believed in Zhang Ye’s vision. Besides, without Zhang Ye, he’d probably be working as a security guard in a bar or nightclub, scraping by—fights and trouble inevitable. Who knows if he’d get hurt, but once he went down the wrong path, his life would be ruined.

Zhao Haidong nodded vigorously. Their current good fortune was all thanks to Zhang Ye. Everything in the fruit shop had been set up by him. If they made money, great. If not, it wouldn’t be such a loss.

“Alright, in a few days when all the watermelons are sold, we’ll tidy up and head to the provincial capital. Computers are new in Lihua County, probably unavailable here, but Guangyang City is different—a big city, so buying them shouldn’t be a problem.”

They settled the matter then and there, no one raising any objections.

“One more thing—this news mustn’t get out. If computer houses spread everywhere, we’d be the ones to suffer. Unlike watermelons, which we monopolized due to pollution, anyone with money can set up a computer house.” Zhang Ye had to take precautions. The plan sounded novel, but it was easy for others to copy. He knew he couldn’t completely prevent it, but if he could keep the advantage for a while, all the better.

Lihua County was only his first stop.

Smaller markets were harder for news to spread. By the time computer houses swept the nation a year later, he’d have made a fortune. When Guangyang City’s market was just starting up, nothing could stop him from breaking in.

The meeting lasted over an hour. Zhang Ye spoke until his throat was dry, painting a vast, limitless future for Liu Wentao and Zhao Haidong, their hearts growing excited with his words.

Zhang Ye was eloquent and vivid in his descriptions. By the end, the two could hardly wait to finish selling watermelons and follow him into this so-called computer house venture.

After closing up the fruit shop, Zhang Ye didn’t go home for dinner. He called his family, then went out with Liu Wentao, Zhao Haidong, and several youths who helped them, to a nearby restaurant.

It wasn’t a large meal, but they spent over two hundred yuan. It was nearly eleven at night before they dispersed.

Zhang Ye had drunk, and this time, celebrating the bright prospects ahead, he drank a lot.

Not just Zhang Ye—Zhao Haidong, Liu Wentao, and the others drank too. Two crates of beer, three bottles of Erguotou, six men—all finished it off, no one holding back, so everyone was a bit drunk.

Zhang Ye was drunk, his head fuzzy. Thanks to recent exercise, his constitution had improved, so he didn’t collapse outright. Still, as he walked home, he staggered a bit.

“Hey—why are there two street lamps… hic…” Zhang Ye pointed at the lamp ahead, suddenly hiccupping.

He touched his flushed face, tilted his head, peered at the lamppost, and chuckled, “Haha, I guess my eyes are playing tricks on me.” Talking to himself, Zhang Ye steadied himself, passed the lamp, and wobbled up a step.

Ahead, just inside the entrance, was his home.

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It was Sunday again, and we have one last chance to climb the charts. I really don’t want to give up—please, everyone, lend your support and push “Rebirth: Supreme” to the front page! Daily clicks and recommendations are truly needed… It won’t waste your time. Let’s row our oars together and charge ahead!

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