Today is Sunday, and the textile factory employees are off work. There are many people buying watermelons, and Wang Peng is extremely busy.
Du Lei continues to deliver goods to the homes of the elderly, women, or those who are too lazy to do so.
However, he looked troubled, as if something was on his mind, and he was always absent-minded.
Wang Peng planned to have a heart-to-heart talk with him after he finished selling the melons.
Ten meters from the gate, Wang Song's melon stall was almost deserted.
In business, location is crucial; even a slight difference in geographical location can drastically impact business.
The saying "every inch of land is worth its weight in gold" is no joke.
It's almost unheard of for residents of the family compound to bypass Wang Peng's melon stand and walk a few extra steps to patronize it.
"Comrade, how much are your watermelons?" a young woman asked him.
"Three cents a pound." Wang Song hurriedly greeted someone who had finally asked the price.
The woman picked out three watermelons, put them in a snakeskin bag, and asked him to weigh them.
"Fourteen catties and one ounce." Wang Song showed her the scale and then instructed Wang Qiang to do the accounting.
Wang Qiang used a pencil to do calculations in his workbook: "Fourteen pounds and one ounce, three cents a pound, a total of four yuan and two cents and three cents."
The woman frowned slightly, noticing the whole number and the change. "The neighbor said the melon seller at the door rounds down the price. Why doesn't this person?"
“I don’t have any change, how about I give you four dollars and two jiao?” she asked.
"No, selling watermelons doesn't make money." Wang Song hurriedly shook his head. "I have change, I'll give you the change."
“I have some change at home. Can you deliver the melon to my house? I’ll pay you then.” She pointed to the family compound. “My family lives right at the door.”
"Comrade, this is only fourteen jin of melon, it's not heavy at all." Wang Song didn't want to deliver it to the door.
He thought this woman was pretentious. His fourth daughter, Wang Zhen, who was ten years old, often carried dozens of kilograms of wheat to the next village to exchange for steamed buns.
"I don't want it anymore." The woman turned and left.
The father and son were stunned as they watched the woman's retreating figure.
Suddenly, Wang Song saw the woman walk up to Wang Peng's melon stall.
The woman asked the price, picked out three watermelons, put them into a snakeskin bag, and weighed them, which showed 16 jin and 2 liang.
"Sister, I'll charge you based on 16 jin (8 catties), just give me four yuan and eighty cents." Wang Peng said with a smile, "Brother Lei, come with our sister and deliver the melons to her home."
Du Lei nodded and hoisted the snakeskin bag onto his back.
"Feels good, this money is well spent." The woman took out her money to pay the bill, then turned to look at Wang Song and his son. "Hmph, serves them right for not having business, serves you right for having good business."
Feeling relieved, she led Du Lei into the family compound.
Across from him, Wang Song gritted his teeth in anger, "Second brother, you'll be delivering melons to them later."
"Dad, if I leave, who will settle accounts for you?" Wang Cheng didn't want to put in the effort.
Wang Song, who was uneducated and couldn't do accounting, could only sigh and lament.
“Dad, why don’t you go supply the melons, and I’ll watch the melon stall?” Wang Cheng suggested.
Wang Song shook his head, worried that his son would be deceived by others while he was away.
Around 11:30, people who went out to buy groceries returned. The sun was very strong today, and they all bought melons to cool off.
Wang Peng was surrounded by people again, while Wang Song was ignored, and his anger grew stronger.
At four o'clock in the afternoon, Wang Peng sold out of watermelons. "Brother Lei, let's go eat stewed noodles. It's on me."
"Go home and eat. Two bowls of noodles cost eight yuan, what a waste." He shook his head with a sullen face.
“Eating food isn’t considered wasteful.” Wang Peng handed him the broom.
The two brothers cleaned up the garbage, including watermelon rinds and vines, which earned them praise from the gatekeeper, Huang Biao.
Across from him, Wang Song still had more than half of his watermelon left. His anger had subsided, leaving only a sorrowful expression.
It will get dark in two or three hours, and I definitely won't be able to sell all the goods. If I take them to the rural market, I can only sell them for 15 cents, and I will definitely lose money.
If we come back tomorrow, we'll have to pay another 50 yuan toll, and with the cost soaring by 30 cents, what's the point of selling anything?
He grew angrier the more he thought about it. Why did Wang Peng sell all his melons? Why couldn't he sell his?
Gritting his teeth, he strode to the door and said, "I still have half a cart of melons left. Sell them for me."
“Sure,” Wang Peng said, sticking to business principles. “I’ll give you nine cents a pound, whatever you have.”
"You're talking nonsense!" Wang Song immediately lost his temper. "I asked you to help me sell them for three cents a pound, not to give you the melons."
"Why should I?" Wang Peng retorted. "You've already kicked me out, why should I help you sell melons?"
"Just because I'm your father!" Wang Song was so angry he was dizzy. "You unfilial son, you're trying to drive down the price on me?"
"Nine cents a pound, take it or leave it." Wang Peng turned and left.
Wang Song quickly admitted defeat, "Give me two cents. These melons were bought wholesale for one cent each. With the fifty yuan toll fee, the cost is two cents."
“I’ll only give it nine points because I’m taking a risk,” Wang Peng shook his head. “If we can’t sell them all, the rest can’t be sold and will only be used to feed pigs.”
Most fruits are susceptible to damage during transportation, and the road from Duzhuang to the county town is more than ten miles long and difficult to travel.
A truckload of melons is fine on the first bumpy ride, but after three bumpy rides, the whole truck is injured.
Three to five days later, the watermelon will start to rot from the inside, so nobody will spend money to buy it.
"Bullshit." Wang Song knew this principle, but he wouldn't admit it. "Don't you have any conscience?"
“I’ve always had a conscience,” Wang Peng said coldly. “Nine cents a pound, take it or leave it.”
Wang Song was panting heavily, his eyes almost spitting fire.
"Keep it for yourself to sell, Brother Lei, let's go eat." Wang Peng pulled the cart away.
I was too busy at noon to eat, and now my stomach is acting up.
"Don't go!" Wang Song's face was contorted. "Give me 15 cents so I can lose less money. The money from wholesaling watermelons is your brother's tuition fee."
At this moment, tears welled up in Wang Cheng's eyes. "Brother, Dad didn't lie to you. We were extorted for fifty yuan by a local tyrant when we came to the county. Please don't kick us when we're down. I beg you."
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