13
Then Sell the Formula (Revised): Dare to Quit and Try
As soon as she brought up the braised food shop, Chen Yanqiu and Wang Tiejun immediately changed their expressions and scolded in unison: “Absolutely not!”
Dr. Chen was so angry the veins on her forehead bulged (though it might have been from the spiciness), her voice rising an octave: “Have you lost your mind? Focus on doing your job properly!”
Wang Xiao tried to persuade her parents: “Mom, Dad, chemical research has never been my real interest. Besides, the 64 yuan I earn a month—I could make that in a single day selling chicken feet.”
“That’s still not allowed, don’t even think about it!” Wang Tiejun’s face turned ashen. “You’d give up being a proper state cadre to engage in speculation and profiteering?”
Wang Xiao was utterly exasperated: “Dad, how is running a legitimate business speculation and profiteering? You can’t just label it like that. The country has long since reformed and opened up—private business is allowed.”
She had studied history and knew when the Third Plenary Session of the 11th Central Committee took place. Besides, weren’t small vendors everywhere on the streets?
“No means no!” Chen Yanqiu was even angrier than her husband. “The question of whether this is capitalist or socialist hasn’t even been clarified yet. Now you want to abandon a stable job to sell chicken feet? What if they arrest you and throw you in jail? You wouldn’t even have a job to return to.”
Wang Xiao grew impatient: “Mom, stop trying to scare me. This isn’t the Cultural Revolution—why would running a business land me in jail? If that were the case, all those ten-thousand-yuan and hundred-thousand-yuan households would be arrested. Would there even be enough prison cells for them all?”
“Why wouldn’t you go to jail? Don’t you know about Nian Guangjiu from Fool’s Melon Seeds who got arrested? You were the one who told us about it!”
Dr. Chen was furious.
When her daughter had first mentioned it at home, she’d been shocked too—she had bought Fool’s Melon Seeds while on a business trip to Anhui.
Good heavens, business had been incredibly good.
But then she watched him build his empire, host lavish banquets, and ultimately crash and burn.
Wang Xiao blinked, vaguely recalling a faint memory. The news had covered Boss Nian’s passing.
But that was from before she transmigrated into this book—it was too hazy to rely on.
Instinctively, she sought allies: “My uncle and aunt aren’t as terrified as you make it sound. They’re selling braised food now too. My aunt doesn’t even work her old job anymore.”
With just the two elderly folks unable to handle the workload, Qian Xuemei had already quit to focus solely on selling braised dried tofu and braised chicken feet.
Chen Yanqiu dismissed this: “They’re nothing like you. What even is a commune-run factory? It’s worse than a neighborhood workshop. At most, they’re temporary workers—whether they work or not hardly matters. Besides, Zhou Town is the countryside, far from the emperor’s reach. Who cares about regulations there? How can you compare that to the provincial capital?”
Wang Xiao offered another example: “What about Xiang Dong? He leased a counter in the department store and his business is doing perfectly fine. Zhang Yan’s mother can’t bear to lose such a lucrative son-in-law.”
After Wang Xiao fled the arranged marriage, Zhang Yan and Ruan Rui didn’t end up together either. Rumor had it Zhang Yan’s mother once stormed into the Ruan household with a kitchen knife, threatening Ruan Rui not to ruin her daughter’s reputation.
Quite the formidable aunt.
“She doesn’t care about her daughter’s life at all!” Chen Yanqiu sneered, “She doesn’t care whether Xiang Dong goes to prison or what kind of life Zhang Yan will live afterward. All she thinks about is squeezing money from her son-in-law to build a foundation for her precious son. You’re our only child—would your father and I ever cheat you? Use your head and think carefully, how could you be in the same situation as her?”
Wang Tiejun chimed in with his wife, coaxing their daughter: “Alright, Xiao Xiao, our family isn’t short of money. We don’t need you to earn anything. Just focus on going to work steadily. If your salary isn’t enough, tell Mom and Dad. Yanqiu, give Xiao Xiao 50—no, 100 yuan. She’s a grown girl now, it’s normal to have bigger expenses. As long as you’re spending it on yourself, whatever pocket money you need, Mom and Dad will definitely give it to you.”
Wang Xiao truly didn’t know what to say.
Although before she transmigrated into this book, the popular saying was: “The end goal of the universe is getting a government job,” she really had no interest in working within the system. In one year—no, even in a single good business month—she could earn what others made in a lifetime. Why would she envy a stable job paying a few thousand a month?
But no matter how much she emphasized this, even resorting to the white lie about earning money and living off stable bank interest, her new parents still shook their heads like rattles.
Chen Yanqiu put her foot down: “Enough, stop the nonsense and watch TV. I think you just haven’t watched enough news broadcasts—you have no sense of proportion.”
Wang Xiao grumpily turned on the television. Seeing the national leader’s face on the news, she suddenly remembered a famously iconic song. How did it start again? “In 1992, that was a spring…”
Right, 1992—what happened in 1992?
She racked her brains desperately but only recalled vague phrases like “further reforms.”
Yet in her memory, the private economy had already been very active in the 1980s. Could it be related to last year’s events? She had seen descriptions like “bourgeois liberalization” in newspapers.
Wang Xiao stroked her chin while watching the news. The more she watched, the more convinced she became that this must be a low period or rectification phase for private enterprises—otherwise, there wouldn’t have been a need for the 1992 Southern Tour Speeches.
Sigh, she lacked the ability to convince these parents that the climate would soon change.
But she had to make one last desperate attempt.
Wang Xiao said with utmost seriousness: “Dad, Mom, I really don’t think the chemical research institute suits me—it’s too dangerous. Think about it: I’m just a young girl. If there’s an explosion and I get chemical burns, my life would be ruined.”
Afraid they wouldn’t believe her, she counted on her fingers: “Like the famous Nobel—his brother was blown up, and his father was disabled for life. There have been many lab explosions with severe consequences. Our institute just had an explosion today—arteries were severed, one step away from meeting Marx.”
Unfortunately, Dr. Chen, having witnessed life and death, remained unmoved. She sneered: “Explosions? There are even more gas tank explosions. Do you think selling braised food is safe? You could get blown to bits without leaving a trace.”
Wang Xiao quieted down. She couldn’t say Dr. Chen’s words were unreasonable. Since transmigrating, she’d heard of multiple barbecue shop explosions and had even experienced the most dangerous one firsthand—fortunately, she’d been sitting outside and narrowly escaped.
No wonder people say the 1990s were paved with gold, yet not everyone got rich overnight. Turns out the road to prosperity is full of obstacles.
Well, with an eighth-grade technician and a chief physician’s income, even if they did nothing, they’d still manage to achieve a comfortable life.
By the time the mass layoffs hit in ’98, they’d probably already be retired.
The only question is whether their work units would still be around to pay their pensions.
Wang Xiao sighed. As the evening news ended, she stood up to go out, startling Chen Yanqiu, who grabbed her arm. “What are you doing? Throwing a tantrum and running away from home just because things didn’t go your way? Where did you learn that kind of temper?”
Wang Xiao didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “What are you talking about? I’m going to buy chicken feet. Didn’t they say the price drops at eight?”
“But we still have so many left.”
Ten varieties of chicken feet, each about half a kilogram—even with the three of them eating their fill, they hadn’t finished them all. There were plenty left for tomorrow.
“I can’t exactly try to sell braised food shops the leftovers from our meal, can I?” Wang Xiao said helplessly. “Don’t glare at me. Even if I can’t sell the chicken feet myself, I can still sell the recipe.”
Since it would be over a year before society opened up enough for her to do business freely, she wasn’t about to let her viral chicken feet recipe gather dust. Better to sell it now and get some cash. In a year and a half, she might have found an even faster way to make money.
Saving up now would give her the capital to jump in later.
Selling to braised food shops in the provincial capital definitely wouldn’t be at the small-town price level. After all, the city had more people, stronger purchasing power, and higher profit margins for braised food shops. Each chicken feet recipe should fetch at least a thousand.
Wang Xiao didn’t plan to sell all her recipes at once. If she offered too many, the buyers might get picky or try to bundle them for a lower price. Releasing them one by one would not only fetch a higher price but also keep the braised food shops interested.
Of course, she’d follow industry norms—she wouldn’t sell the same recipe to two shops on the same street, or she’d ruin her chances of repeat business.
But if two shops on the same street both thought the other’s chicken feet recipe was great and wanted to buy another one from her, she certainly wouldn’t turn down easy money.
Having made her plans, Wang Xiao cheerfully went to buy chicken feet. She didn’t need more seasonings—yesterday, she’d already stocked up in preparation for her chicken feet business. She even had leftover chili oil and Sichuan pepper oil, so she didn’t need to make more.
That night, she finished preparing the chicken feet and storing them in the fridge even earlier than the previous night.
Humming a tune, she went back to her room to sleep, looking forward to making some money by promoting her recipes after work the next day.
While she was as carefree as ever, her parents were feeling uneasy.
After they’d gone to bed, Chen Yanqiu couldn’t help poking her husband. “Hey, don’t you think Xiao Xiao seems like a completely different person now?”
Wang Tiejun wasn’t concerned. “Isn’t it normal for girls to change? A girl changes eighteen times before she’s grown.”
He had some nerve talking about how quickly his daughter was changing—hadn’t he gone through his own transformation before and after marriage? Before they got married, she’d been all gentle and sweet. After marriage? Well, thank goodness he was thick-skinned and resilient enough to handle it.
“Besides,” Wang Tiejun added philosophically, “this is still better than how she was before, all desperate and miserable. Things can’t get any worse than that.”
Chen Yanqiu thought about it and realized it was true. If they were talking about someone changing completely, it was Xiao Xiao’s desperate insistence on marrying someone to become a stepmother earlier that had truly seemed like a case of being possessed. At least now she was just influenced by capitalism and wanted to earn big money.
It was normal. What girl didn’t love to look pretty? To be fashionable and attractive required spending more money.
Alas, it was all because of those people’s reckless actions last year. Otherwise, she could have pulled some strings with Old Wang, and her daughter would have been able to enter the petrochemical plant after graduation this year, with at least double the salary. Now, with just over sixty yuan a month, they could barely afford to eat out a few times. No wonder she was thinking about earning extra income.
Forget it, forget it. Tomorrow, she would take the girl to the mall to buy a new outfit and a pair of leather shoes.
As long as she worked diligently, the family would never shortchange her on food and clothing.