Chapter Seven: Persuasion

“Let’s go inside. Good thing we got here early—otherwise, there wouldn’t be any seats left soon!” There weren’t many entertainment options for teenagers, so most of their summer days were spent in the arcade. That’s why Zhang Ye and his friends made it here ahead of time; in less than half an hour, the place would be packed, sometimes so full there wasn’t even room to stand.

When they entered, the arcade was already bustling. Small groups clustered around machines, some shouting and cheering passionately, caught up in the excitement of their games.

Zhang Ye bought six tokens—three for one yuan, so he spent two yuan in total. After handing three tokens to Zhao Haidong, he found a machine for himself and started playing.

Zhang Ye had never been a gaming expert. No matter how often he played, he never really learned the combos—just button-mashing his way through. He lost quickly at Street Fighter, then tried Final Fight and Cadillacs and Dinosaurs, but half an hour later, all his tokens were gone, and his pocket change had run dry.

Compared to him, Dongzi’s luck was even worse. Two of his three tokens were swallowed by the machines almost immediately. When he complained to the owner—a middle-aged man in his forties—the owner just shrugged. “How do I know you didn’t break it yourself?” he said, eyeing Dongzi suspiciously. Furious, Zhao Haidong smacked the machine in frustration and gave the last token to Zhang Ye, refusing to play any more.

“Bah! I’m never coming here again. Next time I’d rather walk farther to Dexing than put up with this.” Dongzi stormed out of the arcade, still fuming.

Although Wen Kai had brought in a new batch of machines, they’d already been monopolized by others, and it would be a long wait before Zhang Ye and his friends got a turn. That only added to Zhao Haidong’s frustration.

“Ha, it won’t be long before the owner stops smiling,” Zhang Ye said calmly, a mysterious smile flickering across his lips.

“What do you mean?” Zhao Haidong asked, his tone sly.

“You’ll see soon enough.” Zhang Ye lifted his head and glanced at the shop across the street, shaking his head silently. “There isn’t much time left.”

Zhang Ye had already decided to take over that shop and open a fruit stand—specializing in watermelons—hoping to seize the moment. The only problem was that he didn’t have the money, which troubled him.

Suddenly, a spark lit in Zhang Ye’s eyes. He turned to Zhao Haidong and asked, “Dongzi, do you want to make some money?”

“Of course I do!” Zhao Haidong’s eyes lit up. “How? What do we do?”

Zhao Haidong was a resourceful guy, and with the long summer ahead, he was bored—so anything that could pass the time and make money was right up his alley.

“But let’s be clear: I’m not doing any work hauling bricks or sand,” he declared.

Both were still just kids, their parents not giving them much pocket money—one yuan a week was already generous. Sometimes, when they were completely broke, they’d find odd jobs at construction sites for a bit of cash. But now, with the sun blazing overhead and the midday heat like a furnace, Zhao Haidong didn’t want to suffer for money.

“Do I look like the kind of guy who seeks out misery?” Zhang Ye scoffed, then continued, “Here’s the thing: a few days ago, I won twenty thousand yuan in the lottery. I’ve been thinking of starting a little business. After all, we’ve got a whole month left—it’d be a waste not to do something. After some research, I realized selling watermelons has real potential…”

Of course, Zhang Ye didn’t tell the whole truth—he was just spinning a tale.

“You won the lottery? Seriously?” Zhao Haidong was stunned.

“Of course,” Zhang Ye replied, rolling his eyes.

“But if you’re putting up all the money, what would I do? I don’t have any cash, and don’t you need a place to store the watermelons?”

Despite his chubby, crafty appearance, Zhao Haidong never took advantage of his friends—least of all for money.

“There’s an empty shop across from Wen Kai’s. We can rent it out—two or three hundred yuan at most for a month. And you, as I recall, have relatives in Qiyuan who grow watermelons. When we go to buy, you just need to help negotiate. We won’t take advantage of your relatives—just ask them to be flexible with payment terms.”

Zhang Ye had it all planned out. If they could pay a fraction of the price up front—say, one-fifth per kilogram or even less—they could bring in more watermelons. If prices rose, they’d make a windfall. Not only would this benefit them, but it would help Zhao Haidong’s relatives as well—if a heavy rain or flood came, their entire watermelon crop could be wiped out. Now, they’d only be delaying payment.

“Alright, I’ll give it a shot!” After mulling it over, Zhao Haidong couldn’t resist the lure of making money and nodded in agreement.

“Great!” Zhang Ye waved his hand excitedly, then said seriously, “I only just won the lottery, so the money will take a while to come through. In the meantime, you can visit your relatives, check out the situation, and do some negotiating.”

“Okay, I’ll go right now!” Zhao Haidong was so fired up his chubby cheeks quivered with excitement, his small eyes narrowing in anticipation.

Zhao Haidong was no fool—in fact, he was shrewd. Later on, he’d build a business worth millions by the age of thirty. Though he wasn’t sure where Zhang Ye’s confidence came from, he didn’t doubt his friend.

Decisive as always, after discussing the details with Zhang Ye, he went straight home, told his parents, and caught the next bus to his uncle’s house in Qiyuan.

Zhang Ye wasn’t exactly sure when that couple took over the shop—at the time, he’d been hospitalized with an injury and then stayed home for a while. But he was certain that before the big rain, the shop had been rented out. Summer weather was unpredictable, and his memories of that time were hazy, which made him anxious.

“I can’t wait any longer—I have to rent that shop as soon as possible!” The location on Culture Street was ideal; Zhang Ye couldn’t find a better spot on short notice.

If the downpour came as expected, he was confident he could make money just as that couple had—earning a fortune every day. He knew this was a golden opportunity, but with his knowledge from more than a decade in the future, he also realized he lacked capable partners.

Opportunities to make money were everywhere, but finding someone to help seize them was another matter. Hiring a stranger wasn’t realistic; among the people he knew, who could handle it?

That night, Zhang Ye picked his candidate. The next morning, he set off straight for his aunt’s house.