"Understood, Director Ding."
Zhou Qiqi responded, but the tips of her ears felt like they were on fire.
She glanced at Shen Huaichuan beside her and saw him looking down at his medical records. His nose cast a sharp shadow in the sunlight, and his Adam's apple bobbed gently with each swallow.
I don't know if I heard what Director Ding said.
It was a little after 11 a.m. when they left the military hospital. Qin Lei drove Shen Huaichuan and Deng Cuixiang back to the military dependents' area.
Zhou Qiqi went to the wholesale market to find Li Ping.
Li Ping was already waiting at her doorstep. When she saw her coming, she waved from afar.
"Qiqi, you've finally arrived! Are you hungry? Come with me, we've reserved a seat at the state-run restaurant and ordered all the dishes."
Li Ping ordered four dishes and a soup: braised pork, stir-fried liver tips, stir-fried green beans, and an egg drop soup. The enamel plates piled up on almost half the table.
As soon as Zhou Qiqi sat down, Li Ping pushed a bottle of chilled Beibingyang soda towards her. Water droplets condensed on the glass bottle. She unscrewed the cap and took two big gulps, the icy sweet water flowing down her throat.
She had been drinking hot water during her period, and she was really craving something cold, so she asked with a smile.
"Sister Ping, is there any news about contracting the production line? Is it good news or bad news?"
Li Ping opened a bottle of soda for herself, took two gulps, and replied with a smile, "Both are available. Which one would you like to hear first?"
She picked up a piece of braised pork with her chopsticks and put it into Zhou Qiqi's bowl. The pork skin was so tender that it would fall apart with a single poke of the chopsticks.
Zhou Qiqi shoveled some white rice into her mouth, a little meat juice stuck to the corner of her lips. She wiped it with a handkerchief before speaking.
"Let's hear the bad news first, then the sweetness will follow."
"You seem quite nonchalant."
A hint of appreciation flashed in Li Ping's eyes, and she put down her chopsticks and sighed.
“I’ve been running around like crazy these past few days, visiting both the second and third garment factories. The old factory manager at the second factory, who wears reading glasses and speaks slowly, knows all the designs you’ve made and kept praising your talent.”
She picked up a piece of stir-fried liver with her chopsticks, chewed it twice, and then continued speaking.
"The bad news is that they're only willing to hire you as a designer; they won't budge on the matter of contracting the production line, saying things like 'they're afraid of making mistakes' and 'the policies aren't clear yet.' They're just old-fashioned and can't wrap their heads around it."
Zhou Qiqi raised an eyebrow, picked up a piece of braised pork, and chewed it slowly.
She was mentally prepared for this. In the early 1980s, a secure job was still very valuable. Who would dare to easily contract out the production line?
She swallowed the meat, took a sip of soda, and then said, "It's okay, there's still the Third Factory. Sister Ping, tell me the good news."
Li Ping put down her chopsticks and said seriously, "The Third Factory is willing to discuss cooperation, but Director Qiu said that the conditions need to be discussed with you in person."
She paused, looking into Zhou Qiqi's eyes.
"The cooperation model we discussed before—where you would cover raw materials, wages, and equipment maintenance, while the factory would provide the building and equipment, and you would be responsible for all profits and losses, with a 30/70 split (you get 70%, the factory 30%)—I think...it needs to be changed."
Zhou Qiqi's heart skipped a beat, and she tightened her grip on the chopsticks.
She had been thinking about this model for several days and referring to cases of township enterprises in the newspaper before proposing it, and she believed that she had already put a lot of sincerity into it.
She frowned and asked, "In what specific aspect are they dissatisfied?"
After the meal, Li Ping took Zhou Qiqi directly to the Third Garment Factory to see the factory director, Qiu Fengxian, and let him explain it to her.
The north side of the city was quieter than the south side, with far fewer bicycles on the road. Occasionally, a Jiefang brand truck would drive by, kicking up a cloud of dust.
The main gate of the Third Garment Factory was made of red bricks, and a wooden sign with peeling paint hung at the entrance, which read "Third Garment Factory".
Several old-fashioned bicycles were parked in the yard, and colorful fabrics were drying under the wall, making it quite lively.
Director Qiu's office was on the second floor, and the hallway smelled of a mixture of machine oil and fabric.
The office was small, with a banner that read "Unity and Progress" hanging on the wall, and a few sample winter clothes.
Zhou Qiqi glanced at it and found that the style was more fashionable than that of Factory No. 1. The collar and cuffs had lace trim, but the stitching was a bit crooked, the buttons were loosely sewn, and there were still loose threads.
She frowned almost imperceptibly; the workmanship was subpar.
Factory Director Qiu, dressed in a gray Zhongshan suit with his hair neatly combed, greeted them warmly as they entered.
"Comrade Zhou, Comrade Li, please have a seat."
He asked his secretary to pour two cups of tea. The enamel cups were printed with "Serve the People." The tea was dark in color and had a few tea leaves floating in it.
"Comrade Li has mentioned the cooperation to me."
Factory Director Qiu leaned back in his chair and tapped his fingers on the table.
"The model is good, but the profit distribution... needs to be reversed. The factory takes 70%, and you take 30%."
Li Ping frowned immediately and leaned forward.
"Director Qiu, this won't do! Thirty percent can barely afford to pay the workers' wages, how can they possibly make a profit? Isn't this just making Qiqi do a losing business?"
Factory Director Qiu smiled, took out a cigarette from his pocket, pulled one out and put it in his mouth without lighting it.
“Sister Ping, you don’t understand. It’s still uncertain whether this model can make money. If she loses money and just walks away, what will happen to the factory? Who will pay the workers’ wages? I need to take more so I can feel more at ease.”
He stared at Zhou Qiqi as if he were looking at an immature little girl.
Zhou Qiqi picked up the enamel mug, blew on the tea leaves, and slowly took a sip.
The tea was a bit bitter, she put down the cup and looked at Director Qiu.
"I understand that Director Qiu doesn't trust me. After all, it's our first time working together."
She paused, then tapped her fingers lightly on the table.
"But a 30/70 split is really unreasonable. How about this, what do you think is a suitable amount? Let's each compromise."
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