The main road leading to the city's machinery factory was swept clean by sanitation workers, and the water truck also sprayed water extra times in the morning. The dust on the road was washed away by the water and did not easily fly around.
Red flags were hung on the tree trunks along both sides of the road, fluttering in the wind. In some places, red banners were hung, welcoming provincial and municipal leaders to visit and guide the work.
Around 10 a.m., a line of cars and minibuses drove into the factory one after another from the main road.
Xing Baohua and the other two locked the door of the repair shop and followed the convoy toward the factory gate.
The repair shop was very close to the factory gate. Looking up, you could see two rows of elementary school students, each holding a flower made of red silk ribbons. They were chanting in unison: "Welcome! Welcome! A warm welcome!"
Children from the factory-run primary school were selected to join the welcoming team.
I don't know why children are needed for welcoming guests, or when this practice started. For many years, welcoming events have required children to deliver flowers to satisfy this sense of ceremony.
There were many guests. Xing Baohua, Xu Shuai, Liu Quan, and other workers stood at the factory gate to watch the excitement.
"Xu Shuai, you were talking to the people in the factory office yesterday, and the foreign guests who came were indeed from Da Meizi?"
“That’s right! The equipment in our workshop was imported from the United States,” Xu Shuai said.
"There's nothing much to see here, that's just how foreigners look. Alright, you can watch here for a while if you want. I'm going back now," Xing Baohua said.
“It’s really not that interesting. Why don’t we go back together?” Liu Quan said.
Xu Shuai was left all alone, and he must have been bored, so he came back too.
Upon arriving at the shop, Xing Baohua called the two over and gave them some instructions.
"Xu Shuai, go find a round table and a few stools. The round table doesn't need to be very big," Xing Baohua instructed.
"What for? How about the round table in the cafeteria?" Xu Shuai said.
"It's too big. If it were a couple sizes smaller, it would be enough to seat three or four people," Xing Baohua said.
"Where am I supposed to find that?! I only know there's a storage room behind the cafeteria with a few tables and chairs lying around." Xu Shuai said with a bitter face.
"Find a way yourself; this is a task assigned to you by the ministry."
"You're just a nobody, what a load of crap, and you still have the nerve to say that?" Xu Shuai retorted.
Liu Quan chimed in, "I think I know where there are some, including recliners and stools. By the way, is it okay if the table is a little low?"
"It's alright, if you're too short, just use a stool," Xing Baohua said.
"Where can I find it?" Xu Shuai asked Liu Quan curiously.
"Isn't there a reservoir in the southern suburbs? Two years ago, it was slightly renovated for people to visit, and several truckloads of sand were used to create a beach. The local town leadership was punished for this, accused of extravagance and waste."
"Just a few truckloads of sand?" Xu Shuai asked in surprise.
"Yeah, that's right. Later, the beach at the reservoir turned yellow, and gradually no one went there to play anymore. The beach used to have deck chairs, round tables, and umbrellas. They were all brought back and piled up in the People's Park warehouse," Liu Quan said.
"Can you get it done?" Xing Baohua asked. He was short of money and wanted to avoid spending money on things if possible. He was also adapting his thinking to the times. He had no choice but to borrow from the collective first, hoping to pay more taxes later as the business developed. This was his only option.
Liu Quan said, "I have a buddy of mine who patrols People's Park. I'll ask him to lend me some; I should be able to."
"Don't force yourself. If it doesn't work, we'll think of another way." Xing Baohua specifically reminded him not to lend things out in any way that might cause trouble.
"Okay, I'll take care of it. Don't worry about it. I'll go borrow a cart first." Liu Quan walked away with a smile.
Xing Baohua turned to Xu Shuai and asked, "How much money do you have left in your pocket?"
"Why? There are still two yuan left," Xu Shuai answered honestly.
"I still have a little over four yuan here, that should be enough." Xing Baohua mentally calculated the planned expenses and spoke softly.
"What exactly do you want? I still need this money!" Xu Shuai said.
"I'll return it to you later. I have a plan, but I can't tell you right now," Xing Baohua said with a mysterious smile.
"You're being so mysterious. I'm telling you, you have to pay me back my salary!" Just as Xu Shuai finished speaking, the jingling of bicycle bells rang out outside.
The two peeked out the door and saw it was the postman again.
Xing Baohua was overjoyed; more money was coming in. He had been bored and submitted articles to several electronics and technology magazines. He hadn't expected the second payment to arrive so timely.
"Whose letter?" Xu Shuai asked.
"Xing Baohua's, the manuscript fee and the magazine." The postman said, taking it out, and Xu Shuai ran over quickly to take it.
"Science fiction?" Xu Shuai looked at Xing Baohua with surprise when he saw the magazine, a letter, and a wire transfer slip.
Hearing Xu Shuai's voice, Xing Baohua was also taken aback. When did he submit a science fiction novel to a magazine? Was there a mistake?
He quickly took two steps forward, snatched the letter and wire transfer slip from Xu Shuai's hand, glanced at it and saw that there was more than thirty yuan on the wire transfer slip. He handed it directly to Xu Shuai and said, "Quickly get the money out."
Then I tore open the envelope and saw the editor's message.
The gist is that Xing Baohua's submission to the Science and Technology Home magazine was too esoteric, mostly describing futuristic technologies like sending pictures and video calls over the phone. The editor read it and treated it like a short science fiction story, even helping to revise it.
Afterwards, they helped submit the manuscript to the science fiction magazine in the next building, saving Xing Baohua from wasting stamps.
The science magazine, seeing that it was recommended by a colleague, immediately accepted the manuscript. And just like that, Xing Baohua unintentionally produced a science fiction short story, and received a considerable sum of money for it.
This incident left Xing Baohua both amused and exasperated. As long as he received the money, that was all that mattered; money was exactly what he needed right now.
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