Chapter Thirty-Three: A Piece of Good News

The year’s end came in the blink of an eye. One morning, after I’d wolfed down a few sticks of fried dough for breakfast, Tiger called unexpectedly, saying he had a money-making opportunity to discuss. The moment I heard the word “money,” my heart tightened; all I could see were dazzling banknotes. I said, “Salvation is here,” and told him to come find me immediately.

I called Wang Dong and asked where he was. He replied, “At home, starving and watching TV.” I said, “I’ll bring Tiger over shortly—there’s something we need to discuss.” No sooner had I hung up than Tiger came in, dusted in sand and snow. Without any pleasantries, I pressed down on his shoulder and went straight to the point, “Is this business legitimate?” Tiger stifled a laugh, “If it were, would I come to you? Have you seen what you’ve become?” I understood; he probably thought the same as I did. I tilted my head, “Come with me.”

On the way, I called Wang Dong again, told him to step out for a bit and leave the door unlocked. We’d call him once our talk was done.

Wang Dong sounded a bit down, “Not cool, man. Got something to discuss and you’re keeping it from me?”

I said, “Don’t complain. If it’s good news, I’ll share it; if it’s bad, knowing won’t help you.”

Wang Dong said, “I was just about to go pay respects at my mother’s grave. I’ll wait outside for your call when I’m done.”

As soon as we stepped into Wang Dong’s place, Tiger coughed, went straight to the mirror, and plucked a few leftover whiskers from his chin. Then, rubbing his hands, he grinned at me. I grew impatient and urged him, “Tiger, enough with the suspense. Tell me, what’s this money-making venture?”

Smiling, Tiger pulled a newspaper from his coat pocket, pointed to a photo of a chubby man, and said, “Look—does this guy seem familiar?”

I took the newspaper and examined it closely. The photo showed a group of people cutting a ribbon in front of a building; the fat man was beaming, his face familiar—he seemed to appear on TV often. I asked, “Who is he? Looks like some big shot.”

Tiger chuckled slyly, “Not a government official, but more famous than one. Tang Yiming, president of Shibang Group. Likes to play the philanthropist, often making donations. He’s always in the spotlight; I’ve heard even provincial leaders frequently wine and dine with him…”

I cut him off, “Enough chatter. What do you want from him?”

Tiger put away the photo, smiling slightly, “He’s got money—ten Kuai Bins together couldn’t match him. What do you think we should do?”