Chapter 40: The Small Cassette Recorder

Jiang Butong brought Chen Pan’er to Wang Yun’s shop.

There were three or four people crowding around, asking for goods, while boxes of cassette tapes were being loaded onto carts. Wang Yun was busy, beads of sweat glistening on her forehead. Jiang Butong waited a while until Wang Yun seemed less occupied before approaching with Chen Pan’er.

“You’re finally here. I’m swamped today,” Wang Yun complained as soon as she saw Jiang Butong.

“I went to the hospital to visit a friend,” Jiang Butong explained.

“Hurry, help me move these boxes out—someone ordered two hundred tapes,” Wang Yun said as she jotted something in her sales ledger.

Seeing how busy things were, Chen Pan’er rolled up her sleeves and started helping as well. The hostility in Wang Yun’s eyes toward Chen Pan’er gradually softened. After a flurry of activity, Chen Pan’er carefully swept up all the trash.

“Look at you—not even as quick-witted as Pan’er,” Wang Yun glanced at Jiang Butong with a hint of reproach.

Jiang Butong looked at Wang Yun. If Chen Pan’er weren’t here today, he would have given her a good spanking.

“Sister Wang, I’d like to order more tapes…” Chen Pan’er tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and looked at Wang Yun.

“No problem, how many do you want?” Wang Yun agreed cheerfully.

“One hundred,” Chen Pan’er replied, knowing the tapes sold well; last time, she sold fifty in just over two hours.

Wang Yun nodded and began packing the tapes for her. Jiang Butong watched the two women, realizing he hadn’t noticed when their relationship had become so amicable.

Wang Yun finished counting out the tapes for Chen Pan’er, but when Chen Pan’er tried to pay, Wang Yun waved her off.

“Sister Chen, don’t pay me—just put it on his tab,” Wang Yun said with a smile.

Chen Pan’er glanced at Jiang Butong, her lips curving into a small, demure smile. “Alright, thank you, Sister Wang.”

So now he was the walking ATM. Jiang Butong helped Chen Pan’er carry the boxes, and she also picked up a tape recorder from Wang Yun’s shop.

They happened to run into Yingzi, who was hanging around nearby.

“Brother Tong, what are you doing here?” Yingzi greeted Jiang Butong.

“Selling tapes. Here, help me move these,” Jiang Butong said, handing the heavy box to Yingzi, relieved to have help.

Yingzi’s skinny arms could barely manage, but eager to leave a good impression, he toughed it out, silently cursing himself for not pretending not to see them.

After delivering Chen Pan’er to her spot, Jiang Butong helped her set up her stall.

“If you sell all one hundred tapes, you’ll easily make close to a thousand yuan in profit,” Jiang Butong said.

“If I can sell them, that’s my skill,” Chen Pan’er replied with a proud little hum.

“And you didn’t even have to pay for the stock…”

“That’s not my fault—take it up with Sister Wang,” Chen Pan’er said as she began arranging the tapes.

Jiang Butong could only sigh; he didn’t care about the money anyway. He called for Yingzi and headed back.

As they walked, Yingzi glanced back at Chen Pan’er. “Brother Tong, is she going to be our future sister-in-law?”

Jiang Butong looked at Yingzi, surprised by his perceptiveness. “And how do you know that?”

“I think she’s pretty, carries herself well, and the two of you look good together. Most importantly, I can see her eyes are full of you,” Yingzi said, drawing on his own experience as a ladies’ man back in school.

Jiang Butong was pleased with his analysis and took out fifty yuan, handing it to Yingzi. “Go buy drinks for the other guys—my treat.”

“Thanks, Brother Tong!” Yingzi accepted happily, ready to run before Jiang Butong could assign him more tasks.

“Wait!” Jiang Butong called him back.

“What is it, Brother Tong?” Yingzi’s heart sank, fearing another chore.

“Where’s Liu Shuanzhu now?” Jiang Butong asked.

“He went home today,” Yingzi replied.

“Go find him today and have him join us,” Jiang Butong instructed.

“Really, you want him? He’s a turncoat,” Yingzi said, thinking Jiang Butong had just been joking before.

Jiang Butong didn’t see it that way. In this world, how many people truly never betray their friends? He knew some did exist, but they were rare—most people couldn’t resist temptation or threat.

Yingzi might look down on Liu Shuanzhu, but if a stronger force came knocking, Yingzi might be the first to switch sides. So, in the end, everyone was much the same. To keep a team steady, you had to put interests first, loyalty second.

“Just get him here. I’ve already told Jiang Yuan—without Liu Shuanzhu’s tip, we wouldn’t have beaten Black Dog so quickly,” Jiang Butong said.

Yingzi nodded and left after saying goodbye.

Jiang Butong went back to Wang Yun’s shop and found two more customers picking up stock.

Wang Yun beckoned him to help—otherwise, she’d have to manage records, inventory, and find specific tapes all by herself, which was overwhelming.

With Jiang Butong’s help, their efficiency doubled. In a little over ten minutes, the orders were packed and recorded, and a porter was found to deliver the tapes.

Now that things were quiet, Wang Yun began tallying up the sold tapes and calculating the balance.

Jiang Butong sat on a stool in the back, his eyes falling on Wang Yun’s tight jeans, which accentuated her shapely, rounded figure and slender yet soft waist—an appealing sight.

“We’ve nearly sold out the last thousand tapes we bought,” Wang Yun said, noticing where Jiang Butong’s gaze lingered, a sly smile curving her lips.

“Like what you see?” she teased, arching her hips a little more.

“Nice enough, but I wonder how practical it is,” Jiang Butong replied with a provocative grin.

“Pah! Shameless!” Wang Yun blushed and spat at him.

“I’m being serious here—are you listening?” Wang Yun gave his calf a light kick.

“Give me the totals,” Jiang Butong said.

Wang Yun eyed him, thinking to herself: who’s the real boss here, him or me? But she remembered it was thanks to him they’d come this far, so she held her tongue.

“At first, we pooled a thousand yuan for tapes. We sold them for over 2,700 yuan, then bought another 2,000 yuan worth of tapes. As of today, we’ve sold…” Wang Yun looked at Jiang Butong.

“Go on,” he prompted her.

“4,100 yuan, with two hundred tapes left,” Wang Yun said, amazed by how the profits had doubled.

“Order more. This time, place a 4,000-yuan order for two thousand tapes,” Jiang Butong instructed.

“Isn’t that a bit risky? I noticed today that other shops have started selling the same tapes as us,” Wang Yun hesitated—after all, 4,000 yuan was no small sum.

“For the other 4,000-yuan order, press for a lower price. Try to get the cost down from two yuan to one-fifty per tape. We need to prepare for a price war with competitors,” Jiang Butong said. He knew these tapes could never be monopolized, as bootlegging was just too easy and cheap.

Wang Yun nodded. She knew the prices would only drop with time, but in just a few days, they’d already made over 4,000 yuan.

“Place the order as soon as possible—we can’t run out of stock,” Jiang Butong reminded her.

Just then, a familiar face appeared—it was Zhou Jianliang, the electronics factory manager they hadn’t seen for days. Dressed in a suit and carrying a briefcase, Zhou broke into a smile at the sight of Jiang Butong.

“Brother, what a coincidence running into you,” Zhou greeted him.

“That low-price tape recorder deal you mentioned last time—I’ve discussed it with my boss,” Zhou got straight to the point.

Jiang Butong was interested. “How much?”

Zhou pulled out a black pocket-sized tape recorder and handed it over.

Jiang Butong examined it. It looked similar to future models, though the design of this era was still quite conservative. In a few years, these recorders would come in bright colors—red, silver, and more.

This model had shed the bulky double-speaker design, featuring only a small speaker. It was compact, palm-sized, and easy to slip into a pocket—perfect for carrying around.