Chapter Three: The Besieged City

Page 1/3

Listening to Zhou Wenyan’s long complaints, Li Dongling found nothing unusual. Like other state-owned factories, West City Wireless Factory No. 1 was now overcrowded, with every department packed with people. Not everyone in the technical section was skilled in technology or design; many were there through connections. People like Zhou Wenyan, who truly had technical skills and ambitions, ended up treated like beasts of burden.

This created a situation where state-owned factories resembled besieged cities. Those inside, many with talent and ambition, longed to escape—to the special economic zones, Shanghai, or even abroad to seek success. Meanwhile, countless outsiders fought tooth and nail to get in, drawn by the attractive benefits and stable income, which were far better than the backbreaking life of farming.

West City Wireless Factory No. 1 paid Li Dongling a monthly wage of 158 yuan. In Pingyang, this was quite respectable, as many rural families earned only a few dozen yuan a month. Yet in places like Shanghai, Pengcheng, and Yanjing, this salary was insufficient. Housing prices there had soared above a thousand yuan per square meter, while in Yanzhou and Pengcheng, prices had reached an astonishing seven to eight thousand, even over ten thousand yuan per square meter—a phenomenon almost unheard of in inland cities. Naturally, this fueled countless dreams of overnight riches, drawing people to these booming areas.

“Li Dongling, there’s mail for you from Xiyuan in the provincial capital!” A voice called out beneath the dormitory building. The postman, riding a simple two-eight bicycle, shouted names loudly. This line of work demanded strength, but also a powerful voice.

The dormitory instantly grew lively as many hurried downstairs to inquire about their mail. In this era, communication still relied mainly on telephone, telegrams, and letters, with letters being the cheapest option.

“If your name was called, you have mail; if not, you don’t!” The postman handled the crowd with ease, handing letters precisely to those who came forward.

Li Dongling took his letters and returned upstairs. Zhou Wenyan had already gone to the factory canteen for a meal, leaving two meal tickets for Li Dongling.

Although the benefits at Wireless Factory No. 1 were not as generous as those at large state factories or municipal departments—where cinemas, hospitals, schools, and libraries were provided—the factory still had a canteen and bathhouse.

Looking at the envelope addressed in elegant handwriting, “To Dongling, personal,” Li Dongling hesitated briefly before opening it.

“Seeing these words is like meeting face to face. I have joined Xiyuan Provincial Television Station as an intern reporter...” The letter was from An Ruoxue, updating Li Dongling on her situation in the provincial capital. With her family background, it was only a matter of time before she became a full reporter. She also included her office phone number and a new pager number, urging Li Dongling to write back soon.

Li Dongling understood An Ruoxue’s intent perfectly: she wanted him to return to the provincial capital. Though unspoken, the meaning was clear—if he wished to come back, she would persuade her father to transfer his position there.

“Click.”

Page 2/3

Setting the letter down, Li Dongling lit a cigarette. The flickering ember and swirling smoke matched his contemplative mood as he considered his current situation.

Whether at West City Wireless Factory No. 1 or back at the Provincial Mechanical Design Bureau, for Li Dongling, there was no fundamental difference.

In his previous life, Li Dongling had lived a conventional, unremarkable existence. Only when he looked back did he realize how much the world had changed. This era, which he had barely noticed and had little affection for, was hailed by generations as a golden age.

Anyone willing to stoop a little and pick up opportunities could amass fortunes of millions, even tens of millions. This was the perception of those who came after.

Fidgeting with a metal lighter, Li Dongling’s gaze suddenly sharpened. He had never realized—or perhaps never cared—that even a single lighter could sell hundreds of millions each year, creating a multibillion-yuan industry.

Indeed, this was a golden age: wild, frenzied, yet nostalgically unforgettable.

Resolving his path, Li Dongling knew his immediate concern was to earn his first pot of gold. Swallowing his pride and returning to the provincial capital to seek An Ruoxue’s family’s help might be the easiest route.

But having deeply understood the meaning of “matching social status,” Li Dongling was painfully aware of the humiliation that came with relying on others. When social standing differed too greatly, one would inevitably bow low every time they visited their spouse’s family, with no room to speak or assert oneself.

Even if one achieved some success later, people would say it was only thanks to their spouse’s family. Li Dongling had already experienced this in his previous life—without real accomplishments, the consequences were dire.

Shaking his head, Li Dongling put the letter away. Some paths offered shortcuts, but at too great a cost.

It wasn’t just the provincial capital, Pengcheng, or Shanghai where fate could be tried. In this wild, mad, and miraculous era, Li Dongling believed that opportunities also existed right here—in Pingyang, at West City Wireless Factory No. 1.

That evening, Li Dongling met Zhang Ao, who shared his room. Compared to Zhou Wenyan, who was still poring over materials late at night, Zhang Ao was far more carefree, slicking his hair with wax and dressing in the trendiest clothes of the time as he went out on a date.

As for work, promotions, or benefits, Zhang Ao cared little. His family worked at the supply and marketing cooperative, which was also overcrowded, so they simply placed Zhang Ao at Wireless Factory No. 1 to draw a salary.

“Cough!”

The next day, just as Li Dongling and Zhou Wenyan stepped out of the dormitory, a cough caught their attention.

They saw Wei Hongying drawing circles on the ground with one foot, having worn the area clean, clearly having waited there a long time.

Page 3/3

“I’ll go over first!” Zhou Wenyan said, eyeing Wei Hongying in the distance and giving Li Dongling a knowing look. “You sure act fast!”

“Well...” Seeing Li Dongling approach, Wei Hongying summoned her courage. “I’m sorry!”

“About yesterday, it was my fault. I also apologize on behalf of Sister Qin. She didn’t mean it. There really have been some hooligans bothering her before, so we...”

“I understand!” Wei Hongying widened her eyes, having prepared a flood of excuses, only to be met with this single sentence from Li Dongling.

“This one’s on me. If you ever need anything, come straight to me. Whatever it is, I’ll sort it out for you. Wei Hongying never owes anyone!” she vowed earnestly.

Li Dongling shook his head as he looked at her. He had wanted to ask about the relationship between Qin Fang and Liu Jiande, but since it was work time and people were coming and going under the dormitory, he refrained, saying only, “There will be a chance.”

Inside the office marked with the West City Wireless Factory Technical Department plaque, there was little experimental equipment but many people seated. The Technical Department was essentially an office job, with decent salaries, bonuses, and benefits.

Their task was to ensure the assembly lines producing radios and black-and-white televisions—foreign secondhand equipment purchased from abroad—ran smoothly without faults, and that the products met quality standards. Once this was done, the Technical Department’s mission was complete. Many who worked there had never set foot on the production line. Research and development of new technologies simply did not exist for the Technical Department at Wireless Factory No. 1.

Li Dongling entered and saw men drinking tea and reading newspapers, while many women knitted sweaters and chatted about household matters, creating a lively atmosphere.

He found a seat and glanced at a local Pingyang newspaper. The front page featured news about the most famous domestic tycoon today, Boss Shi of the Giant Group. The Giant Han Card continued its fiery success this year, with sales up 300% from last year and expected revenue exceeding 30 million yuan. A photo showed the Giant Building Boss Shi was constructing, planned to rise 70 stories; at the start of construction, it had only reached 18 floors.

Besides Boss Shi’s news, there were stories about Sitong Company, Boss Mou, Jinshan Company, and others—people who had transformed into millionaires and multimillionaires in just a few years—igniting countless dreams and restless desires, making readers wish to fly to places like Pengcheng to strike it rich overnight.

Not only local Pingyang media but outlets across the country reported similarly, constantly hyping the myth of instant wealth. Everything revolved around money; this was the creed of the age.