1992: Starting with the Second Generation of Shipowners

Chapter 98 A Mess

Hong Laosan was released on the afternoon of the 27th of the twelfth lunar month.

Jiang Haiping waited at the entrance of the town's industrial and commercial bureau, pushing his bicycle.

The north wind howled all day, leaving the sycamore trees on the street bare, their branches crackling in the wind.

The iron gate of the Industrial and Commercial Bureau was half open, and Hong Laosan walked out from inside, still wearing the same clothes he had worn on the day they were confiscated.

His collar was all wrinkled, and he had two blisters on his lips.

He saw Jiang Haiping standing at the door, paused for a moment, then lowered his head and walked over.

"Hai Ping".

Jiang Haiping propped up the bicycle, took an enamel mug from the basket, and handed it over.

The jar contained hot porridge that Lin Xiu'e had filled, wrapped in two layers of old newspapers to keep it warm; a small patch of the newspapers had already become damp from the steam of the porridge.

Hong Laosan took it, his hand trembling slightly. He brought it to his lips, took a sip, and said nothing.

"What did the Industry and Commerce Bureau say?" Jiang Haiping leaned back on his bicycle seat.

"My detention period ended, and since no one could produce any evidence, they released me. But the case isn't closed." Hong Laosan placed the enamel mug on the steps of the Industrial and Commercial Bureau, rubbing his hands together. "Ma Desheng told me that the investigation into the fake fertilizer shipment from the supply and marketing cooperative is still ongoing. Until the true source is found, the suspicion against me for this shipment won't be cleared. In the future, if I want to help the supply and marketing cooperative with transportation, they won't dare to hire me."

"Where did the fake fertilizer come from? Did you check the seal when you shipped the goods?"

"The seal was put on by the people in the supply and marketing cooperative's warehouse; I saw them put it on with my own eyes."

I moved the goods from the warehouse entrance to the truck without stopping along the way. When we arrived on the other side to unload, someone said the seals were incorrect.

Hong Laosan's voice was dry and monotonous. "I've been thinking about it all night. Someone must have tampered with that warehouse in the supply and marketing cooperative."

There's a loophole between the person shipping the goods and the person receiving them; that's how the counterfeit goods are switched in. I was the one pulling the cart, and they blocked both ends, trapping me in the middle.

"What did the supply and marketing cooperative say?"

"They've completely shirked responsibility. They say there's nothing wrong with the inbound and outbound slips, so the problem must lie in the transportation process." Hong Laosan picked up his enamel mug and took another sip; his hand was no longer trembling. "I can't read. I can't understand a word written on the inbound and outbound slips."

They made me sign a handover form, so I circled it. Now that something's happened, that circle has become my name, and they're pointing at that circle and saying...

"Look, you signed it yourself, you accepted the goods." He placed the enamel mug on the steps and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.

She didn't cry; her eyes were dry. But when she rubbed the back of her hand across her eye socket, she used a little too much force, and it rubbed a patch of skin red.

Jiang Haiping remained silent for a while.

There was a sweet potato stall outside the Industrial and Commercial Bureau, and the charcoal fire in the stove flickered in the wind.

The caramelized sweet aroma of roasted sweet potatoes wafted on the wind, mingling with the sulfurous smell of coal stoves on the street.

"Let's go back first." He took out his account book from his pocket and turned to the page for debt.

The line for Hong Laosan that read "half before the winter solstice" had long been crossed out, and the remaining half was marked "before the year".

He closed the notebook and put it back in his pocket. "Pay back the 150 yuan you owe before the New Year, and we'll talk about the rest later."

"I have the money. The Industry and Commerce Bureau withheld part of my earnings from the transportation business as a deposit, but my third sister-in-law took out her savings. She said she saved over a hundred yuan from selling sweet potatoes at the beginning of the year, which she originally intended to use to pay for my niece's tuition." Hong Laosan's voice was very low. "I'm too ashamed to take it."

"Take it for now. After the New Year, when you go out to sea to fish, return it to her after you've caught some fish." Jiang Haiping turned the bicycle around and pushed it towards the dock.

Hong Laosan followed behind him, and the two walked one after the other on the street in town that had been blown clean by the north wind.

Red lanterns have been hung up at the roadside supply and marketing cooperative, and red paper with the words "Happy Spring Festival" is pasted on the door, the edges of which are curled up by the wind.

It was already dark when we got back to Hongjia Island.

A small light bulb was lit in Hong Laosan's yard. Hong Xiaobing's third aunt was standing at the door. She saw Hong Laosan walk down from the seawall and held onto the door frame without moving.

Hong Laosan walked up to her and placed the enamel mug on the threshold.

"You're back," Auntie said.

"Um."

Auntie San didn't say anything else. She turned around and went into the kitchen, took a bowl of hot sweet potato porridge from the pot and placed it on the table.

Hong Laosan sat at the table, head down, drinking porridge. His third aunt stood in front of the stove washing dishes, her back to him, the tap running loudly.

Neither of them mentioned the bracelet or the money. The only sounds coming from the kitchen were the sounds of people drinking porridge and washing dishes.

Hong Xiaobing stood in the courtyard and did not go in.

The mud stain on his forehead was still there, completely dried.

He saw Jiang Haiping standing outside the courtyard gate. Jiang Haiping walked over, took a plastic bag out of his pocket, and put the bag of sesame candy into Jiang Haiping's hand.

"My mom made it again."

Jiang Haiping took a piece and put it in his mouth.

The candy was still cut crookedly, and the edges were a little burnt. It was very sweet.

It was already night when we got back to the service station.

Jiang Haiping pushed his bicycle into the yard. The loquat leaves rustled in the sea breeze, and the light in the kitchen was still on.

Lin Xiu'e sat at the entrance of the kitchen, with a basin of prepared tung oil ash in front of her, covered tightly with a damp cloth.

She heard the sound of wheels, looked up, stood up, took a bowl of dumplings from the stove, and placed it on the stone slab.

"Third Uncle has gone back."

"I'm going back."

"What did the Industry and Commerce Bureau say?"

"The person has been released. The case is not closed." Jiang Haiping squatted under the loquat tree eating dumplings.

The dumplings were made in the afternoon, so the wrappers were already a little cold, but the filling was still just the right amount of salty.

He repeated to Lin Xiu'e what Hong Laosan had said at the entrance of the Industrial and Commercial Bureau. When he got to the part about the collusion between the inside and outside of the supply and marketing cooperative warehouse, his voice unconsciously lowered a few decibels, even though there were only the two of them in the courtyard.

Lin Xiu'e sat on the stone slab and listened without saying a word.

She covered the tung oil basins with the damp cloth again, arranging the basins neatly, four in total, not one missing.

The next morning, Wang Cunzhi arrived on his Jialing 70.

He parked his motorcycle at the gate of the courtyard, took a brown paper envelope out of his canvas bag, and handed it to Lao Fang, who was smoking at the entrance of the workshop.

"The industry and commerce bureau has made progress in the case of counterfeit fertilizer." Wang Cunzhi entered the courtyard and sat down under the loquat tree.

He took the enamel mug that Ahai brought him and drank a sip of water. It was so hot that he had to breathe on it. "There are three people in the supply and marketing cooperative who manage the warehouse. Two are permanent employees and one is a temporary employee."

The temporary worker's surname is Liang. He has worked at the supply and marketing cooperative for more than two years, and he usually handles tasks such as moving goods, entering and leaving the warehouse, and affixing seals.

The industry and commerce bureau found dozens of bags of fake fertilizer in an abandoned warehouse behind the supply and marketing cooperative.

The packaging is exactly the same as the genuine product, but the urea content is less than half. Only someone surnamed Liang has the key to that abandoned warehouse.

"How did he manage to switch the real one out?" Jiang Haiping walked over from the worktable, still clutching the ledger in his hand.

"The genuine products are sourced from legitimate channels, and the invoices are all correct when they are put into storage."

The counterfeit goods were sourced from outside by a man surnamed Liang and mixed into the existing inventory before being put into the warehouse. He then selectively shipped them out.

Genuine goods are sent to long-term customers who know how to verify the quality, while counterfeit goods are sent to new buyers who don't. Hong Laosan's order was a last-minute addition; the recipient was a newly opened planting site in a village across the sea, where no one could tell the difference between genuine and counterfeit fertilizers.

The man surnamed Liang selected a truckload of counterfeit goods and shipped them out.

Wang Cunzhi placed the enamel mug on the tree root, pulled out half a copy of the confession from the kraft paper envelope, and said, "The man surnamed Liang has already confessed. He took the blame alone. But the direct handling of the inspection by Hong Laosan this time was an operational error by the warehouse staff."

It wasn't a case of deliberate adulteration; the supply and marketing cooperative was only willing to compensate for the price difference of this batch of fertilizer, unwilling to admit that they had been being ripped off for a long time.

"There's a mole inside. They don't want to expose him and lose face, so they keep throwing dirty water on the transport workers." Old Fang took the cigarette out of his mouth.

"Yes. Although the man surnamed Liang confessed, the supply and marketing cooperative only said to the outside world that the counterfeit goods were due to the temporary worker's improper handling, and that there was no problem with the internal procedures."

Hong Laosan was the transporter. His handover signatures for this batch of fertilizer were incomplete, there were no witnesses on the road, and he was the one who drove the truck when the goods were counterfeit. The supply and marketing cooperative has grounds to continue investigating him.

Wang Cunzhi stuffed the confession back into the envelope. "This isn't a legal issue anymore; it's a matter of face. The supply and marketing cooperative doesn't want to lose face, so Hong Laosan has to keep carrying this suspicion."

The person in charge at the Industry and Commerce Bureau was Old Ma. He told me that he knew about it, but the leaders of the Supply and Marketing Cooperative were holding him back, so it wasn't easy to bring it up directly.

All he can do now is avoid pinning the blame on Hong Laosan, but it's true that nobody in the transportation industry dares to hire Hong Laosan.

Ah Hai squatted by the circle of broken seashells, listening anxiously, "Does that mean Uncle San can't run the transport business anymore?"

"It's not possible before the New Year. After the New Year, this trend will pass, maybe it will still work, maybe no one will look for him anymore." Wang Cunzhi stood up and patted the sand off his trousers. "The service station shouldn't get too involved. The supply and marketing cooperative has higher-ups, but the service station is different. You make a living by repairing boats."

If you wade into the muddy waters of counterfeit fertilizer, the perpetrators might not retaliate, but they can jeopardize service stations' supplies. Your diesel quotas need to be approved by the supply and marketing cooperative, and you also need to inquire about prices for used equipment and register imported parts.

If you seriously offend the supply and marketing cooperative, they can hold you back from various procedures for years.

Jiang Haiping placed the ledger on the worktable. He opened to the page about credit sales, where there were dense lines drawn in red pen, with two or three lines still uncrossed.

The last line of Hong Laosan's book read "One hundred and fifty before the New Year." He scratched a mark on the line with his fingernail and then closed the notebook.

"Brother Haiping." It was Hong Xiaobing's voice.

He stood by the loquat tree, holding a rope he had just taken from the dock. The juice and seawater from the rope had scabbed over between his fingers.

He suppressed the whole morning's conflict while cleaning up the dock, but now the expression on his face was different from before.

It wasn't panic, but a deep, dark silence, like a tide pushed to the edge of a reef. "My aunt cried again this morning about the fake fertilizer. She wasn't crying about my third uncle, but about the supply and marketing cooperative saying her husband was a thief. She said she'd rather pawn the bracelet again than not have someone sue her."

There are rumors and gossip in the village. Some say that my third uncle was an unlicensed taxi driver who cheated people out of money by gambling and repairing fishing boats.

They haven't said those things in ages, but now they're bringing them all up again.

Jiang Haiping stood under the loquat tree, looking at the sea outside the courtyard gate.

The north wind blew across the rocks, making the old newspaper in his hand rustle loudly.

He folded the newspaper and put it back in his pocket, his hand touching another piece of paper.

That mimeographed report card showed that the team came in second.

The reputation of the service station was built ship by ship.

These were the words of Lao Fang.

But now he suddenly realized that reputation isn't something you can build up by repairing ships; it also comes from creating messes.

The supply and marketing cooperative doesn't want to handle Hong Laosan's mess, the industry and commerce bureau can't suppress it, and if the service station gets involved, it should be prepared to be splashed with dirty water.

But if you don't touch him, Hong Xiaobing will be squatting in the service station yard every day. What can you expect him to do?

He leaned against the loquat tree trunk and thought for a long time.

"Haifeng," he suddenly said.

Ding Haifeng stood up from under the window of the old parts warehouse.

He wasn't holding a micrometer; he was flipping through a technical specification book for a new water pump, his fingers wedged between the pages.

"Your father teaches those people a trade on Hongjia Island. He knows a lot of people. Does anyone know where that temporary worker surnamed Liang at the supply and marketing cooperative gets all those counterfeit goods from?"

Ding Haifeng closed the book.

He understood what those words meant.

The service station wasn't investigating a case; it was simply helping a neighbor find out who made the counterfeit goods.

He put the book on the worktable, walked to the kitchen door, picked up his old bicycle, and kicked off the door.

"I'm going to find my dad." He straddled the bicycle, the chain creaking twice, and rode out of the courtyard gate.

Lao Fang stood up from the workshop door.

He put the cigarette back in his mouth, watched Ding Haifeng's figure grow smaller and smaller on the seawall, then turned to Jiang Haiping and said four words.

"Know your limits."