A town of small-town fortunes by writer Wang Yu
1
Ah Ping suddenly said to me that he wanted to start a grass jelly business in Jianzhen town. I was at a loss for words.
Grass jelly shops were appearing on every street, but I had no idea what the stuff was. It was just like when I first saw a KFC joint, and wasn’t sure whether it was some kind of tire supplier or waterproof paint store. All I knew was that over the past few years, grass jelly had been spreading like wildfire, and that the shop counters were usually crowded with girls.
I didn’t think Ah Ping should jump on the bandwagon. He had never been a trendy person. He usually kept his hair looking like a straw pile, and wore faux leather shoes with saggy nylon pants. Aside from stints delivering water, gas, and newspapers, and doing unskilled kitchen labor, his career history was entirely in food and package delivery. Nothing about him was fashionable.
But he still went into town, signed a lease on a store, and rented an apartment. His determination was obvious.
Later on, Ah Ping’s funds must have been getting tight as he started calling to suggest that I come have a look and join him in business. He said he was getting ready to go big, but first needed me to purchase 10,000 yuan in shares. “Right now, what I need is more manpower,” he said. From his tone of voice, it sounded like this booming venture had reached a crucial stage, and the next step was an expansion in real estate.
I spent a few nights mulling it over before deciding I should give it a try. Who knows? Maybe we would be successful, and have a chain of stores all with plaques above their doors which read “Branch No. XXXX.” Maybe it would even end up a national chain. If that came to be, then at least I wouldn’t have to spend any more time at the lousy termite extermination company. The termite company could go months without a customer, and that year we had only managed to dig up two termite nests. It wasn’t just having to put up with the boss rolling his eyes at me every day. If I stayed, sooner or later I’d turn into a hunk of termite-eaten wood myself.
After exhausting all of my resources, in the end I was only able to put together 8,000 yuan. Half of the money came from winning a bet with one of my boss’s fat family members. I said I could stand an egg up straight on a pane of glass—he didn’t believe I could do it, but I ended up winning (losing wouldn’t have been a big deal, I would only have had to eat a handful of live termites).
Ah Ping was happy to get any amount of money.
Wang Yu (real name 王禹) was born in Huazhou, Guangdong province, in 1984, and began writing novels in 2018. His work has appeared in publications such as Yanhe (《延河》), Hunan Literature (《湖南文学》), Literature and Art of Guangzhou (《广州文艺》), Wild Grass (《野草》), Luming (《鹿鸣》), Gushi Hui (《故事会》), Weixing Xiaoshuo Xuankan (《微型小说选刊》), and others. He was recently shortlisted for the 2022 Gushi Dabaozha Contest by NetEase Culture & Creative and ONE app.
Translated By
George Dudley is a translator based in Beijing. He enjoys spending his free time watching Golden Harvest productions and searching for Chinese short fiction to translate.
