Chapter 26 The Opportunity for the First Pot of Gold

There were also genuine music lovers who gathered around. Wang Yun, adept and practiced, promoted the tapes with ease, playing samples from various cassettes over and over for people to listen to.

Jiang Butong returned to his usual spot. He slid a cassette into the player, ready to play "Love Like the Tide" by Jeff Chang.

"My love is like the tide...
Love like the tide pushes me toward you...
Closely following...
Love like the tide wraps us both..."

"I never want to see you drowning your sorrows in the dead of night again...
Don’t want other men to witness your allure..."

As Jeff Chang’s distinctive voice flowed out, it caught the attention of many, drawing passersby to stop and listen. In this era, music from Taiwan still spread slowly, and most people had never heard this song before.

Jiang Butong set the player to repeat the track, and the crowd around him grew. Some inquired about the price of the tapes—upon hearing it was ten yuan, they balked, unwilling to buy. Others, truly enamored with the song, began to haggle with Jiang Butong. He put on a mournful face and said, "Alright, eight yuan, I’m selling at a loss for you."

The person, delighted, made the purchase—his first sale of the day.

Jiang Butong understood that price was only part of the equation; what people really enjoyed was the bargaining itself. Even shaving off a single yuan brought them satisfaction.

As time passed and workers from the nearby factory finished their shifts, the crowd around Jiang Butong’s stall swelled.

He had learned from Wang Yun that the wholesale price was only two yuan. So, he launched a bundle deal: one cassette for ten yuan, two for fifteen, three for twenty.

One had to admit, Jiang Butong’s strategy was effective, especially with these hit songs. By the time the shift ended, he had sold more than fifty tapes.

At that moment, a middle-aged man with gold-rimmed glasses approached the stall. Jiang Butong looked up—an old customer! It was Zhou Jianliang, who had previously bought seven or eight tapes from him. He still remembered Zhou giving him a business card last time.

"Young man, haven’t seen you in days—I thought you weren’t coming anymore," Zhou Jianliang said cheerfully, handing him a cigarette.

"I’ve been busy lately. Today I finally found time. Honestly, even if it were just for your sake, Brother Zhou, I had to come out and set up shop," Jiang Butong replied with a grin.

"You really know how to talk," Zhou said with a laugh. "Any new songs lately? Play me something."

Jiang Butong played him "Love Like the Tide," the latest hit.

Zhou Jianliang closed his eyes and listened, visibly satisfied. He looked at Jiang Butong with newfound respect, surprised that someone so young could have such a keen sense for picking songs.

"Anything else?" Zhou asked.

Knowing this was a big customer, Jiang Butong played Andy Lau’s "Forget Love Potion" and Zheng Zhihua’s "Sailor" in succession. In the half hour that followed, he easily sold another five or six tapes.

Zhou Jianliang counted the tapes he wanted—eight in total.

"Young man, I’m buying so many—give me a deal."

Jiang Butong hesitated slightly, then said, "Brother Zhou, how about I give you two tapes for free? Just pay for six."

Zhou was delighted and promptly handed over sixty yuan.

"Next time you get something good, save a copy for me," Zhou said as he took his leave.

After a while, with no more customers in sight, Jiang Butong decided to pack up. In just three hours, he had sold out all eighty tapes he’d brought.

His takings totaled over six hundred yuan. With no middleman like Wang Yun taking a cut, his costs were only a hundred and sixty yuan. His net profit was nearly five hundred.

A perfect day’s work!

He picked up the cassette player to find Wang Yun, who had promised him a meal that day.

When he arrived at Wang Yun’s shop, he spotted a familiar face—Zhou Jianliang, who had just bought tapes from him.

Zhou looked equally surprised. "So this is where you get your stock?"

Jiang Butong glanced at Wang Yun, who immediately understood—Zhou must have just bought tapes from Jiang Butong.

"This is my cousin," Wang Yun said smoothly, "We’re partners in the cassette business." She then turned to Jiang Butong, "Xiaotong, this is Manager Zhou Jianliang. He gave me his business card earlier, wanting me to distribute their factory’s tape recorders."

Jiang Butong was taken aback, then quickly offered his hand. "So you’re Manager Zhou! Life really is full of chance encounters."

Zhou shook his hand and smiled, "So, did you want to see me for something?"

"Yes," Jiang Butong replied, "I’ve noticed many people love music but can’t afford tape recorders, even though they can buy cassettes. I was wondering if your factory has any more affordable models."

Zhou frowned slightly. "Right now, we only make large tape recorders. I suggested producing smaller models to the factory director, but he didn’t agree."

"Manager Zhou, the future market is in portable tape players—ones you can carry around. The big ones will eventually become obsolete," Jiang Butong said, knowing the trend would move toward compact, belt-clipped players.

Zhou was intrigued. He himself preferred smaller models, but lacked the director’s support.

Seeing Zhou’s interest, Jiang Butong pressed on. "It’s all about consumer spending power. I hope your factory can try producing a batch of small tape recorders. If the market responds well, you can ramp up production—and we can become your agents for sales."

Wang Yun glanced at Jiang Butong, thinking she never intended to become Zhou’s agent, since that would mean paying hefty fees.

Zhou didn’t agree right away, since this would affect the factory’s strategic planning. But he replied courteously, "Alright, I’ll discuss it with the director again."

Jiang Butong nodded, adding, "The world is changing fast. Sometimes, it’s not technology that makes you obsolete, it’s the market’s needs."

He didn’t tell Zhou that after 2000, the rapid spread of MP3s would spell the end for cassette recorders. Or that the rise of digital cameras would crush giants like Kodak.

Jiang Butong would never reveal his true thoughts or future plans; in these times, information gaps were wealth—vast wealth.

After Zhou left, Wang Yun gave Jiang Butong a playful look.

"What did Zhou want from you just now? Buying tapes too?" Jiang Butong asked.

Wang Yun shook her head, "No, remember you asked me to get his contact? I reached out, so he came by. Who knew he’d notice our tapes are exactly the same as yours?"

Jiang Butong chuckled at the coincidence.

"Did he ask your prices?" he asked.

Wang Yun shot him a sly glance, laughing, "What’s wrong? Worried you overcharged him and I’ll give it away?"

"Come on, he’s a manager—he wouldn’t quibble over a few yuan," Jiang Butong replied, believing Zhou’s vision was broader than that.

Wang Yun knew it too; she had only been teasing him.

"So, how did you do today? How many did you sell?" Jiang Butong changed the subject.

"I sold tapes at five yuan each—over a hundred sold, for a total of more than five hundred yuan. What about you?"

"I sold over eighty, made more than six hundred yuan, and cleared just under five hundred in profit."

Wang Yun was shocked. She hadn’t expected Jiang Butong to sell so many, nor to make double the profit of a wholesale shop.

"So together, we made over seven hundred yuan today?" Wang Yun stared at him wide-eyed.

"About that. But it’s too soon to count the money. Once everything is sold, we’ll tally it up. If you see which titles sell fastest, restock quickly."

Jiang Butong wasn’t particularly interested in these few hundred yuan, but as long as they kept going step by step, there would be plenty of opportunities ahead.

"Come on, lunch is on me!" Wang Yun was overjoyed. She usually sold only a hundred or two worth of tapes a day, never expecting to make so much with Jiang Butong’s help this time.