Che Mingming said, "Scammed? Even if you lost a hundred thousand yuan, it's no reason to resort to such violence."
Cui Jia's father continued, "My daughter here, she's a bit naive. Since the 1990s, when she was just a teenager and dropped out of school, she got into pyramid schemes. Later, she got involved in something called 'Ten-Thousand-Acre Afforestation,' where they raised funds to plant trees in Inner Mongolia, claiming that in ten years, towering trees would grow and be sold for timber. How many trees can actually grow in that vast desert, and how much water would they need? Eventually, it turned out to be a scam. Ten years passed, and the trees weren't even as thick as the shot glasses we use for baijiu at home. The whole thing was exposed by CCTV, and all the investments went down the drain, costing us tens of thousands. After saving up for a few years, there was another venture in Shenyang called 'Ant Power.' The idea was to pay money upfront to raise ants for the company, and when the time came, the company would collect the ants and pay out. At first, she made some money, and greed took over. She even borrowed money to raise more ants. Our home turned into an ant colony—ants were everywhere. When I was sleeping, if an ant crawled on my face, I didn't dare crush it; I had to gently return it to the nest. We fed and cared for them day in and day out. Suddenly, the company's funding chain broke, and they stopped paying the breeders monthly. The big boss had taken everyone's money to speculate on real estate, and when property prices fell, there was no way to pay back the breeders. The breeders protested at the Shenyang provincial government, and it was exposed on TV—turned out to be an illegal fundraising scheme. The third time, she speculated in silver, entrusting her money to a 'lead big brother,' who ended up running a 'rat trading' scheme—he profited when things went well, but the losses fell on the investors first. That nearly wiped out our family's savings. This time, it's 'national assets.' Now, our home is truly bare. What can we do? It's a family misfortune. Our family is like leeks—cut down by one scam after another. We haven't missed a single wave of fraudsters; we've encountered them all. Her husband says his whole life has been a joke—working hard to earn money, only to end up enriching scammers, saving nothing, and left with a pile of debt. This time, her husband just lost his temper and resorted to violence. But no matter how angry you are, she's your wife—how could you be so brutal?"
Chen Junnan whispered to Liu Zhengliang, "If I had a wife who squandered everything like that, I'd hit her with a stick too."
Fushun is a surreal place. What makes it surreal is that it was once one of the republic's first directly administered municipalities, where workers in winter could eat beltfish as wide as four fingers. It once had countless factories, producing tanks and planes that went to Korea and Vietnam. Even the Afghan mujahideen praised their quality, and the governments of Iraq and Iran used Fushun-made artillery shells to bomb each other. So, the people here maintain a baffling sense of superiority. My investment philosophy—you simply can't grasp it. It's a completely new business model. What, you're asking why my last venture failed? There's no entrepreneurship without paying some dues. This time, it's different.Cui Jia repeatedly used her husband's money to invest in her dreams. The man wasn't foolish either—the first time he treated it as indulging his wife's whims, the second time as finding her a hobby to keep her occupied, the third time he considered it paying for a lesson thinking she should know when to stop. By the fourth time—"Good heavens, you've even learned to play with leverage! Quite the physics whiz, were you taught by Archimedes? But did Archimedes teach you whether it'd be the stick or your head that hurts more when I swing it?"
The stick broke, her skull fractured, the wife was hospitalized, and he landed in jail. Conservation of energy.
On the eighth day, Liu Zhengliang couldn't make rounds due to an urgent patient, so he sent Chen Junnan to check on her. Cui Jia's temperature had risen to 38°C, a low-grade fever.
Her father mentioned she hadn't eaten since last night.
Chen Junnan asked cheerfully, "What's wrong, beautiful? Why aren't you eating? You can't skip meals—without protein, how will your wounds heal? How will your body recover? Auntie, uncle, why don't you two take a walk and grab some breakfast? I'll chat with your daughter for a bit."
After the elderly couple left, Cui Jia immediately burst into tears: "When I took that hit, everything went blank. I couldn't make any decisions. If I'd known it would cost so much and become such a burden to my parents, I should've died on the operating table. But I never wanted to be their burden. Look at my head—sunken on both sides, symmetrical depressions left and right. From a distance, it looks like I'm wearing a gourd on my head, like one of the Calabash Brothers. I'm a woman too—I won't claim I was stunning or anything, but people used to turn their heads when I walked by. Now look at me—what's the point of living like this? If I just skip a few meals, my nutrition fails, my body collapses, I close my eyes and this life is over. How perfect. You all shouldn't have bothered saving me."
Chen Junnan said, "Don't talk like that, little sister. However much your parents spent raising you before has nothing to do with us. But since you took that hit, you know what? All the money your parents ever spent on you has been reset to zero. If you give up on treatment now, everything they've invested becomes wasted. Besides, we haven't charged your family much—the whole treatment costs less than 40,000 yuan, actually saving your parents 20,000. After insurance deductions, your out-of-pocket expense is minimal."
Cui Jia wept, "I'm just so trapped. My in-laws won't contribute either—but then again, they have no money left, I've squandered it all. I'm such a failure—can't succeed at anything, never satisfied with what I eat, ambitions sky-high but fate tissue-thin. I'm only in my thirties, yet I feel like I'm living a fifty-year-old's life. There's no youthfulness left in me—even my father says I'm shrouded in gloom."Chen Junnan comforted her, saying, "You always think you can make money without putting in the effort—like going to sleep and waking up to find good times have arrived. Think about all the setbacks you’ve faced over the years. What’s the real reason? You said it yourself—you’re only thirty-three, yet you’ve already jumped into so many ventures. Tell me, which one did you thoroughly research? Of course, at our age, it’s unrealistic to expect you to go back to school now. But you can change your attitude. Before making any decision from now on, always plan an exit strategy and think carefully about what to do if things go wrong. Lastly, let me give you one more piece of advice: good days aren’t won by gambling. They’re earned through hard work. Don’t always think about making money from money. For ordinary folks like us, with our meager savings, we can’t afford to take big risks. A small wave might just rock a big ship, but it could capsize your little boat entirely. We’ve managed to save you this time. After you’re discharged from the hospital, if you feel you don’t want to stay with your husband anymore, then get a divorce. If you think you can make it work, then carry on. No matter what, at least your life has been spared, and he won’t have to face a heavy sentence for manslaughter or intentional injury resulting in death."
Cui Jia replied, "What’s the point of staying together? I feel quite sorry for him too. Let’s just get divorced. All these years, I’ve been thinking—even though I’m a woman with little education, why should I resign myself to a life of poverty? Sure, most people would say, 'Your family isn’t poor. Even if your husband doesn’t work much, he still brings in a couple thousand, and you earn another two or three thousand polishing shoes.' But let me tell you, who doesn’t want to live a glamorous life? Who doesn’t want to smoke Chunghwa, drink Maotai, and drive a BMW? I want that too! What am I lacking? Why should I stick with my husband, open a shoe-shining shop, and live such a dull, flavorless life? I want to be admired, to earn respect. I don’t want people to see me and immediately think of shoving their feet in my lap. Oh, so my husband idles his life away, and I have to break my back polishing shoes—am I supposed to serve others my whole life? I was pretty when I was young, and I’m still not bad now. Dozens of young men in the neighborhood still sneak a second glance when they see me. So you ask if I’ll stay with him? No, I won’t. Let him serve his time in prison. I’m going out to make something of myself. If I stay in Fushun any longer, I’ll go stupid—just watching Kuaishou all day, giggling mindlessly at my phone, shouting 'Old Iron, 666!' I don’t want to live like that anymore. Lying in bed these past few days, I’ve realized something: when you’re trapped in that shoe repair shed, you have no time, let alone the ability, to fight or take risks. Older folks always advise, 'Have a child; a plain, simple life is the real happiness.' But they say that only after they’ve tasted all the flavors of life. I haven’t even tasted salt yet, and you’re telling me plain and simple is true happiness? How can I accept that? I can’t. I’m not resigned to it. Once I recover, I’m heading south to make my mark."
Chen Junnan asked, "But you still need a plan—which city to go to, what industry to start a business in. For now, just focus on recovering peacefully."Cui Jia said, "Once you pass Shanhaiguan, everything south counts as the south. What's there to plan? Just go wherever your feet take you. I just need to get out and see the world, or I'll never be satisfied. This time, I nearly died. When he hit me, to be honest, I didn't even dodge. He probably expected me to evade or block with my elbow—maybe end up with a broken arm or something. That way, he'd have beaten his wife, vented his anger, and no one would laugh at him for being spineless. But I didn't move. I know he's got a good temper, and I've wronged him. I feel like I've wronged myself too—I didn't want to live anymore. Now I've figured it out: people shouldn't always think they've got sharp eyes and clever minds, that they can succeed at anything. You have to go out and gain experience, or you'll keep drilling into dead ends, always looking for shortcuts, trying to earn a lifetime's worth of money in one night."
Twenty years ago, people in Fushun watched Shenzhen rise. Electronics from Huaqiangbei, manufactured as OEM products, dared to sell for ten yuan apiece in 1992, while the cost was just two yuan—money was so easy to make then. They saw housing in Hangzhou going for eighty thousand yuan per square meter, while theirs cost only three hundred—money was so easy to grab. They noticed hotels in Shanghai charging hundreds per night, while Fushun Hotel was just eighty—money was so easy to spend. This dazzling world made young people, dressed in labor-protection uniforms working eight-to-five shifts and only able to dance ballroom in parks, bloom with ambition. Who wouldn't want to venture out? Here I am, day after day, riding a bicycle with an aluminum lunchbox tucked under my arm, carrying the di san xian and rice my mom made last night to steam in the factory's steam pot all morning. I eat it at noon, then ride home in the evening. After dinner, I go to the park's small square to dance yangge or wander the night market, browsing trinkets, buying a couple of export-reject clothes for twenty or thirty yuan to look a bit stylish. Is this life? I refuse to accept it.
Cui Jia was one of those unwilling to accept it, but she had no particular skills, and her husband wasn't any more capable. Lack of ability isn't scary—you can live a simple, poor life with plain tea and humble food. But she also had ambition. Flesh and spirit, willpower and capability, desire and intelligence—none of these necessary matching conditions aligned for her.
A few days later, Cui Jia's husband was brought by detention center guards to visit her in the hospital. Partly, he regretted hitting her so hard, and partly, he was there to sign divorce papers at her request. Che Mingming was nearby and saw Cui Jia's husband limping into the ward—apparently, he'd jumped off a building after beating his wife and injured himself.
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