AWB Chapter 33: 8 million is more than just a cold number
Chapter 33: 8 million is more than just a cold number
April 14, 1996, afternoon.
The bustling morning queue outside "Starry Sky Internet Cafe" had just ended when a completely different crowd quietly gathered in the afternoon.
A few old school desks borrowed from the school were pieced together to form a makeshift recruitment counter, on which stood a handwritten sign: "Hiring: 2 network administrators, 2 receptionists, 2 cleaners."
Zhao Weiguo and Sun Peng sat behind the table, looking somewhat at a loss. They had originally thought this was just a simple procedure; Ling Yun had instructed that the network administrator and receptionist positions should prioritize students with computer skills and good appearances, and that a quick and efficient older woman would be fine for cleaning.
However, reality dealt them a heavy blow, as did Ling Yun, who had just returned after dealing with stock market matters.
The number of students applying for network administrator and receptionist positions was relatively normal, though. But when news of the "cleaning" position spread, the situation completely spiraled out of control.
The dense crowd almost completely blocked the sidewalk in front of the internet cafe. They weren't energetic, curious students, but mostly middle-aged and elderly people wearing faded work clothes or old-fashioned coats. Men and women alike wore similar anxieties, fears, and a hint of almost desperate hope. They clutched thin resumes or simply slips of paper with their names, addresses, and contact numbers.
There are over a hundred people! And the number is still increasing!
A silent, oppressive atmosphere hung in the air. No one spoke loudly; only whispers and anxious footsteps filled the air. Their eyes were all fixed on the sign that read "Two Cleaners," as if it weren't a cleaning job, but a lifeline.
As soon as Ling Yun stepped off the yellow van, this was the scene that greeted him. He stopped in his tracks, his heart felt as if it had been gripped tightly by an invisible hand, and his breath caught in his throat.
In later generations, he only saw phrases like "state-owned enterprise reform in the mid-to-late 1990s" and "about eight million laid-off workers" in cold historical records. Numbers are abstract, symbols within a macro narrative.
Only now, seeing with his own eyes these hundreds of faces, etched with the pressure of survival, huddled together in the chilly spring afternoon for a cleaning job that might only earn two or three hundred yuan a month, did he truly and vividly realize that behind those numbers lay the devastation of countless families and the heavy sigh of an era.
"Brother Yun, you're back..." Zhao Weiguo saw Ling Yun and, as if seeing a savior, quickly squeezed over, his face contorted in a pained expression, and whispered, "There are just too many people! They're all here to apply for cleaning jobs! No matter what I say, they won't leave!"
Sun Peng also came over, his voice tinged with pity: "Brother Ling, many of them are former workers from state-owned factories, including electronics factories, textile factories, and machinery factories... This..."
Ling Yun nodded silently and walked towards the recruitment table. As he passed, the crowd automatically parted, and countless eyes instantly focused on his young face, who seemed to be in charge. Those gazes were so complex that they weighed heavily on his heart—there was pleading, flattery, suspicion, and also the numbness that life had worn down.
"Boss, are you hiring a cleaner? I can do anything!"
"Comrade, I'm in good health, I'm not afraid of getting dirty or tired!"
"Boss, please take a look at my resume. I used to be an outstanding producer at Factory No. 5!"
In an instant, a variety of voices came in, each with its own regional accent, but all conveying the same urgency.
Ling Yun raised his hand and pressed it down, trying to keep his voice steady: "Everyone, please be quiet and line up. We'll go one at a time."
However, "queuing" became a luxury at this moment. The instinct for survival overwhelmed all order. The crowd surged forward again, almost overturning the table.
"I was here first!"
"Let me through!"
Amidst the chaos, a scene caused Ling Yun's eye to twitch violently.
An elderly man with gray hair, a thin frame, and wearing worn blue overalls stumbled and nearly fell after being shoved from behind. He clutched a transparent file folder tightly in his hand, inside which several red certificates of honor and a yellowed award certificate were clearly visible. He steadied himself, and instead of complaining about the person who had shoved him, he spoke repeatedly to Sun Peng behind the recruitment desk in an almost pleading tone:
"I'm so sorry, so sorry, young comrade, I didn't mean to... I, my name is Ma Baoguo, I used to work at the city's electronics factory, I, I was a workshop director, a city model worker... I can definitely sweep the floor clean, I promise..."
A former workshop director and municipal model worker is now groveling before a young man younger than his own son, assuring him that he will "definitely sweep the floor clean" for a cleaning job.
Lingyun felt a tightness in her throat.
From the other direction, a middle-aged woman in her forties with a sallow complexion squeezed almost to the front of the table. Her voice was trembling with tears: "Boss, please, have mercy and hire me! My husband has also been laid off, and my child is still in junior high school, waiting for tuition fees... I can endure any hardship, even a lower salary is fine..."
Her words resonated with many, and more voices of lamentation and pleas rose from the crowd. This was not a performance; it was a genuine cry from someone driven to the brink of despair.
Zhao Weiguo and Sun Peng had never seen anything like this before. The two young men had red eyes and looked at Ling Yun helplessly.
Ling Yun took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. He knew that giving those two cleaning positions to either of them would be cruel to the other hundreds of people. This wasn't a recruitment process at all; it was more like a desperate struggle.
He raised his voice again, using all his strength: "Quiet down! Listen to me!"
The crowd quieted down a bit, and all eyes were on him.
"Dear uncles and aunts, brothers and sisters," Ling Yun's gaze slowly swept over the weathered faces, "There are only two cleaning positions. I know that's far from enough for everyone."
He paused, his voice deep and serious: "However, I assure everyone here today that 'Starry Sky Internet Cafe' offers far more than just two cleaning jobs!"
The crowd quieted down and looked at him with suspicion.
In Ling Yun's mind, the thick stack of documents about the municipal electronics factory provided by Wang Degui quickly overlapped with the faces of the workers from the "municipal electronics factory," "Fiveth Factory," and "textile factory" before him. Those cold asset lists and liability statements now possessed a concrete and subtle warmth—their livelihoods, hopes, and dignity for these hundreds of people!
An unprecedented, bold, and weighty idea became incredibly clear and firm at this moment.
His gaze swept across the crowd, finally settling on Ma Baoguo, the man who claimed to be the former workshop director of the electronics factory, and also on the middle-aged woman worrying about her son's tuition fees. He spoke loudly:
"I know many of you used to be workers in state-owned factories; you have skills and experience, but you're just facing temporary difficulties! What we need is not just cleaning staff who sweep floors!"
He raised his hand, pointing to the futuristic "Starry Sky Internet Cafe" behind him, his voice suddenly rising, carrying a resolute determination:
"This internet cafe is just the beginning! I, Ling Yun, hereby solemnly announce—I have decided to officially take over the city's electronics factory!"
The words fell like a thunderclap from a clear sky!
Not only were the laid-off workers in front of them stunned, but Zhao Weiguo and Sun Peng also stared at Ling Yun with their mouths agape in disbelief.
A brief, profound silence fell over the crowd, which then erupted into an even louder roar.
"Taking over an electronics factory?"
"Really? Boss, are you talking about the city's electronics factory?"
"The electronics factories have been shut down for almost a year! They're so in debt!"
"Boss, if you can really revitalize the electronics factory, we...we'll erect a longevity tablet for you!"
Old man Ma Baoguo was trembling with excitement. He squeezed forward a few steps, his cloudy eyes gleaming with disbelief: "Boss... you mean our electronics factory? You really want to take it over? You're not lying to us old folks?"
Looking into those eyes that had suddenly ignited a faint flame of hope amidst despair, Ling Yun felt a heavy weight on his shoulders. This wasn't a boastful statement made on a whim, but a responsibility he had to shoulder after witnessing this tragic scene, and the most crucial piece in laying the foundation for his business empire.
"Master Ma, fellow workers," Ling Yun's voice was steady and powerful, carrying a convincing strength, "I mean what I say! I've taken over the electronics factory! I can't guarantee you'll all be back to normal right away, but I promise that as long as you still trust your own hands and are willing to work, I, Ling Yun, will give you a chance to start work again and get paid again!"
He stopped looking at the recruitment table and instructed Zhao Weiguo and Sun Peng: "Weiguo, Sun Peng, register the names, former positions, and contact information of all laid-off workers from the electronics factory! Register workers from other factories as well!"
After saying that, he turned around and walked straight towards the internet cafe door.
Behind him came a flood of heartfelt thanks and inquiries, some choked with sobs. The elderly Ma Baoguo bowed deeply to his retreating figure.
Stepping into the internet cafe, shutting out the noise from outside, Lingyun leaned against the cold wall and slowly closed his eyes.
In my mind, I still see those hundreds of anxious, humble faces that ultimately found hope.
"Eight million is not just a cold number..." he murmured to himself, the number weighing as heavily as a thousand pounds at that moment.
Originally, acquiring an electronics factory might have been just a business strategy, for the equipment, land, and future hardware manufacturing. But now, it has been given a completely different meaning.
He opened his eyes, his gaze passing through the glass door to the figures outside who lingered, unwilling to leave.
This is a path we must take, and we must make it work.
For the workers waiting to start work, and for the flame in his own heart that had just been ignited—a flame called "serving the country through industry."