Chapter 85: Good News

Over the next two days, Su Mu devoted himself to finding a way to wholesale computers at factory prices. At present, computer sales were sluggish, and many agents had warehouses full of unsold inventory. Having already uncovered the bottom line prices, he could easily acquire stock from them at a discount. Given that his resources were insufficient to approach manufacturers for direct distribution, this was the best solution.

To cater to the varied needs of potential customers, he even planned to custom order a batch of high-performance computers. When he discovered he could purchase components and have someone upgrade the systems, saving a substantial sum in the process, Su Mu decided it would be better to have them assembled himself. This would not only reduce costs but also ensure the products reached customers as quickly as possible.

He had no idea that, far away in Texas, a man named Michael Dell had recently come to the same conclusion. Dell had just invested a thousand dollars of his savings to start a company, intent on assembling and selling computers himself.

By coincidence, Michael Dell was currently in Silicon Valley, researching the market. So strapped for cash that he could only afford the cheapest motels, he was nonetheless determined to experience the birthplace of cutting-edge IT technology firsthand, just like every other aspiring entrepreneur in the field. It was no surprise he had come to Silicon Valley.

In these days, news did not travel quickly, and the internet was all but nonexistent. Michael Dell had never heard of Su Mu, and Su Mu knew nothing of Dell.

Yet Su Mu had managed to stay a step ahead of his Texan counterpart. Daniel’s father had already promised that, once he returned from his conference in New York, he would invite the headmaster of Menlo Park Private School for a round of golf, using the occasion to discuss this “big business deal.”

Previously, Daniel’s father had considered his son a disappointment. Lately, hearing that Daniel was working with friends on a business venture had delighted him. After all, this was hardly a difficult favor to ask of the headmaster—simply awarding Daniel’s company the order at the same price as other suppliers, since all the products were the same. He had no concerns about potential issues and was happy to help his son out.

On his way home that Friday, just before boarding the Greyhound bus, Su Mu heard the good news from Daniel and was overjoyed. If the order went through, the profits were secondary; the real victory was breaking into the market. Next time, approaching another school, he would have the confidence of prior success.

If all went smoothly again, perhaps he could even follow the model of pharmaceutical companies and hire a team of salespeople to expand the business across the region. For now, these were just Su Mu’s dreams—after all, he hadn’t even completed his first transaction.

By next week, if he could get his hands on three computers, there was a strong chance he could secure the Menlo Park Private School contract. Everything seemed to be moving in a promising direction.

At last, Su Mu understood why so many people dropped out of school the moment they tasted success. When one’s work absorbed all their time, it was easy to lose interest in academics, their attention shifting more and more to their burgeoning careers.

Yet, fearing a beating from his strict father, Su Mu wisely decided to continue his studies. Even if he were to give up school, it would be after entering university—so that, should his venture fail, he would at least have a degree and need not worry about finding a job.

Los Angeles remained unchanged, as did Chinatown. The five-hour journey left Su Mu aching from head to toe. He didn’t bother trying to save money; instead, he hailed a cab and asked the driver to take him straight to the old glass factory.

By now, it was more appropriate to call it “Buyfun Supermarket.” The massive sign had already been hung, visible from a great distance. The exterior walls were still red brick, the roof tiles black. The white doors bore bold red letters—“BuyFun” on one side, “Supermarket” on the other—somewhat asymmetrical, enough to drive a perfectionist mad, but such details hardly mattered.

Construction on the parking lot was still underway, perhaps because the city funds had not yet been fully spent. Workers were planting grass and flowers on a nearby lot, and in just two months the place had been transformed beyond recognition—it was hard to believe this had once been a derelict factory.

Stepping out of the car, Su Mu gazed at the supermarket he’d invested in, his heart swelling with pride. Through the doors, he could see that many counters had been set up, some already stocked with goods. Inside, a dozen employees in blue vests and red shirts were being trained by Manager Han.

As he drew closer, he heard Han calling out, “Each shelf holds different products! Don’t just put things wherever you like—group similar items together. Restock immediately before anything sells out! And when you see a customer, always greet them politely. I do not want to see someone asking where things are and you ignoring them—one instance and you’re fired on the spot! Understood?”

“Yes, sir!” the employees responded in unison, clearly used to this sort of half-hearted training.

The supermarket would open next month, and Manager Han was in high spirits. For him, the investment of over a hundred thousand dollars was no small matter, and he had poured considerable energy into the project. Just days earlier he had told Su Mu over the phone that he couldn’t sleep unless he checked in on the place two or three times a day.

Recently, Su Mu had had little opportunity to contact Han. The reason was that the phone line in his rented villa was being monopolized by Li Zhekai and James, who were working in the garage on their start-up. If someone was making a call, they couldn’t get online; if they were online, they couldn’t make a call. The group worked from dawn to dusk developing office software, running four computers simultaneously. This month’s electricity bill was astronomical, and with the staggering internet costs, the few hundred dollars earned from selling books had long since been spent.

Lately, people had been stopping by the factory, peering in and asking what was going on. At first, many thought a new factory was opening, and idle job seekers came by looking for work.

In these times, jobs were scarce. Labor-intensive and resource-intensive industries were migrating elsewhere, and even with the large low-income population dragging down the average, wages in America still exceeded a thousand dollars a month. The gap between rich and poor was stark. Take George, Su Mu’s housemate—as a programmer intern, he earned thirty-five hundred dollars a month, while those at the bottom made just three or four hundred.

The Su family’s three breadwinners earned just half the average wage. After taxes, insurance, and school fees for Su Mu, there was little left over. Things had been better before, but two years ago, Su Mu’s grandmother fell ill, and their savings were wiped out.

An annual post-tax income of over ten thousand dollars would have been a fortune in a developing country, more than enough to be called wealthy. But in the United States, it was just enough to get by—not lacking for food or clothing, but far from affluent. Life was better than that of most Chinatown residents, but hardly comfortable. People fought tooth and nail to get to America and earn foreign currency because of the vast regional inequalities back home. In China, even buying rice or meat still required ration coupons.

When Han first noticed people at the door, he soon realized one of them was Su Mu. He gave his staff a break and swaggered over, asking proudly, “Well, what do you think? Impressed? Ha! We might even open ahead of schedule—the stock’s arriving, the warehouse is full, and I’ve already made all the arrangements...”