The Leader 2

If Chen Qi wanted to wage a business war, he had more dirty tricks up his sleeve than anyone. Yet he had no desire to resort to such underhanded methods against them. Besides, the times were different—getting put before a firing squad was far too easy in this era. In the Beijing of later generations, there was a renowned folk culture destination called Lao She Teahouse. Established in the 1980s, it offered two-fen large-bowl tea, fine tea pastries, and traditional opera performances. Back then, the youth chased Hong Kong and Taiwan pop culture and had no interest in traditional opera, while the elderly found it too expensive and couldn't bear to spend the money. Lao She Teahouse ran at a loss for a time until it found its path forward: branding itself as the representative of Beijing's folk culture, staging performances for foreigners, and winning government endorsement. Foreign heads of state visiting Beijing made a point of touring Lao She Teahouse. Later, with the boom in tourism, visitors from out of town and ordinary foreign tourists alike flocked there to check in, queue up, and drink that two-fen large-bowl tea. In later years, drinking large-bowl tea became an internet-famous photo op, but tracing it back to its origins, it had all started when this band of educated youth set up tea stalls with their heads down, enduring discrimination and ridicule... Chen Qi's plan was twofold: first, develop along the lines of Lao She Teahouse; second, expand business operations, starting with a department store. In short, the tea stall blew up once more, leaving their competitors utterly crushed. The effect brought by foreigners was remarkable—a leader was finally coming to inspect! *** Leadership inspections always required arrangements. The higher the rank, the longer the lead time; some gave advance notice months ahead, sending subordinates into a frantic frenzy to clean up dirt, chaos, and neglect. Chen Qi had assumed it would be a municipal deputy at most, but receiving the notice gave him quite a start: the chief executive himself was coming, which meant an exceptionally high rank. Take Yuan Kuocheng, for instance. For his storytelling of *Romance of the Three Kingdoms*, he was received one by one by top leaders. After walking out of Zhongnanhai that day, Yuan Kuocheng calmly strolled to the opposite side of the street and drank a bowl of soy milk. General Wang even wrote him a letter, saying, "I am your devoted listener, and so is my grandson. I told the boy, 'Listen to Uncle Yuan speak, and you will have a fine teacher for learning the national language.' Thank you..." The leaders themselves were often quite informal, frequently turning up at places without any warning; such examples were too numerous to recount. Early morning. At first light, Huang Zhanying was banging on the door outside like a ghost. "Chen Qi! Chen Qi!" "Coming, coming!" Hurriedly slipping on his shoes and still wearing that Dacron shirt, he called out a quick word to his parents and bolted out the door. Chen Jianjun and Yu Xiuli felt a deep pang of frustration, increasingly sensing that a sad, thick barrier had grown between them and their son. "Did you guys finish making them?" "All done, take a look!" Huang Zhanying carried several wooden boards and wooden stands. Chen Qi gave them a shake—they were quite sturdy. "Let's go!" The two hopped on their bicycles and set off with the gear, heading for Qianmen Arrow Tower. Their companions were already hard at work, sweeping the ground, wiping tables, and washing bowls. The teacher from the Beijing Traditional Opera School had dropped by again on his own initiative, bringing students along to help out; they were full of enthusiasm now, more than happy to have their labor exploited for free. Chen Qi took charge as usual. "Put up the small blackboard!" "Hang the Peking opera facial makeup masks in horizontal rows." "Smooth out the handkerchiefs when you lay them down, don't let them get wrinkled!" "Where's the English book?" "Here! Right here!" Someone hurried over with a copy of *English 900*. Chen Qi handed it to a companion who wore glasses and possessed an intensely scholarly air. "Don't deliberately pretend to read, but let everyone see that you're reading whenever you have a free second." "Teacher Chen, I'm a bit slow on the uptake. Speak plain Chinese, would you?" "Good grief!" Chen Qi pushed him down into a seat, tossed the book beside him, and said, "For example, you're sitting here wiping bowls, but there's an English book right by your hand. Doesn't that immediately establish an image of someone hardworking and eager to learn?" "But I don't know any English!" "You learn precisely because you don't know it! That reminds me—everyone, gather round! Come, come, over here!" Chen Qi waved everyone over. "I taught myself English too, so I don't know much, but I can teach you a few simple phrases. I made up a little rhyme that's super easy to remember. Listen up! "'Come' means come, 'go' means go! "Nod for yes and shake for no! "When you greet them, say 'Hello'—hello, hello, ha-hello..." "Teacher Chen, why do you have a bit of a Tangshan accent? Does America sound right next door to Tangshan or something?" "Cut the chatter and learn it! If another foreigner shows up later, you'll at least be able to manage a few words without making fools of ourselves!" Once everything was in order, he wiped away a nonexistent bead of sweat and let out a long sigh. "Think this is easy? Mental labor is far more exhausting." *** By mid-morning, the students began to sing, and the tea stall opened for business. The place was still packed with people, with no special restrictions or fanfare put on for the leader's inspection. Even so, there were bound to be security personnel in the crowd; chances were that some of the people buying tea were undercover officers in plain clothes. Around ten o'clock, a sudden stir rippled through the crowd. The onlookers parted to the left and right as several men walked forward, greeting the masses as they came. They dressed very plainly—cotton long-sleeved shirts, gray trousers, and cloth shoes. The leading figure was in his sixties, plain in appearance, but obviously a veteran revolutionary. His surname was Lin. He was a pragmatic man of action, unique in having taken charge of Shanghai, Tianjin, and Beijing in succession within two years, frequently stepping in as a trouble-shooter—a veritable firefighter. In Tianjin, for instance, when the National College Entrance Examination had just been restored, an enormous number of candidates registered, and many who met the cutoff scores still could not be admitted. Once left idle, those young people became the "youth awaiting employment" of today. Leader Lin had directly expanded college admissions and arranged for multiple branch campuses to be built, taking in over eight thousand examinees. You think expanding college admissions was a 1990s phenomenon? It happened back then. Upon arriving in Beijing, he had cut through the Gordian knot with equal speed, sending nearly twenty thousand youths to college and vigorously supporting cooperatives, making tremendous contributions toward resolving unemployment. "Welcome, welcome!" "A warm welcome!" The opera school students stepped in as an impromptu welcoming party. Leader Lin chuckled, waving a hand and speaking in a thick Shandong accent. "All right, all right, no need for such big fanfare! I've been meaning to come take a look for a while now, but other matters kept delaying me. Lately it's been even more extraordinary—you've even gotten involved with foreigners. Impressive work! If I hadn't come today, it would've been remiss of me." Officials from the district and neighborhood were also present, accompanying him and exchanging pleasantries. Leader Lin had little interest in their bureaucratic talk. He circled the tea stall on his own, inspecting the kettles and the large bowls, then pointed to the Peking opera facial makeup masks on the rack and asked, "What are these for?" "Lately we've been partnering with the opera school to hold daily performances, so we hung some masks up as decoration to give it some atmosphere," Huang Zhanying stammered. "Oh? Quick-witted." Leader Lin offered neither approval nor criticism. He asked a few more questions about the stall's situation, then suddenly said, "Which one of you is Comrade Chen Qi?" "Hello, Leader!" Chen Qi stepped forward. "You're quite well-known, you know. I read your letter, and I heard you even wrote a screenplay?" "Er, just scribbled something together." "Was it accepted?" "Beijing Film Studio accepted it." "Good, very good. Beijing Film Studio is strict. For them to accept it means you wrote well. What we need is precisely this kind of spirit—constantly eager to learn and striving forward." Leader Lin nodded, his eyes glancing at *English 900*. He could naturally tell that the scene had been staged, but he didn't call it out. "This place is right next to Qianmen Hotel, which accommodates foreigners, so more international friends may visit in the future. In receiving foreign guests, be neither servile nor haughty. Don't be nervous, but don't act like cowards either. If you disgrace the country, I won't let you off lightly!" The older generation spoke plainly and colloquially. Chen Qi smiled and said, "A few of us have been teaching ourselves English, though we haven't learned it very well yet." "Oh? Can you speak a few sentences?" "Just a few words—'hello,' 'good,' that sort of thing." "Haha! Having that spirit is what matters... By the way, do you have any difficulties? Speak freely!" Huang Zhanying jolted, keeping someone's prior instructions firmly in mind, and hastily said, "None at all! If there are difficulties, we can overcome them ourselves. Besides, our business is getting better and better and we're short on hands. I hope we can take in new people to help more youth awaiting employment." "Good!" "Wonderful!" Hearing this, Leader Lin finally broke into a genuine smile. Right now, what worried the government most was the massive army of the unemployed. "Look at that! This is what our new youth of the new era should look like! This must be encouraged and spread far and wide!" He stayed for about half an hour, even chatting with the young performers about opera with great interest. Among the older generation, practically no one disliked traditional opera. "Good grief, I was scared out of my wits!" Everyone had been on edge the entire time, and Huang Zhanying's calves were practically cramping. Only after the leader departed did she slump as if all strength had drained from her. "I don't even know what I was saying. Did I say anything wrong?" "Not at all, you did great!" Chen Qi encouraged her with a chuckle. "There's only one last step left: when the newspaper comes out tomorrow, take the page with the photo of the leader talking to us and paste it right here!" He slapped his hand against the small blackboard. "And our mission will be accomplished!"