Di Xuemeng was forcibly stranded on Kinmen. A businessman never starves—since he couldn't return, he started a small business selling soda outside the military camp. During artillery exchanges between the two sides, he sold from bomb shelters; when the shelling stopped, he sold at the positions. Survival was all that mattered. Kinmen's sorghum liquor tasted so much like the sorghum liquor from Northeast China that one sip would make Di Xuemeng homesick. The "Qiantai Chun" from Fushun and "Laolongkou" from Shenyang—both were this same sorghum liquor.
Sorghum liquor came in two varieties: clear and red. The writer Mo Yan once said the red sorghum liquor from his hometown was red because the husks were soaked to release their pigment; without the husks, it would be clear liquor. Alcohol sales were forbidden in the military camp, but soldiers off duty still craved a drink. Over time, Di Xuemeng kept soda on the top layer of his cart and hid a bucket of loose liquor underneath, wrapped in a quilt. Those with a craving would come for a couple of ounces.
He sold like this for over twenty years. During that time, a bespectacled company commander often chatted with him, buying a bottle of soda or a couple of ounces of liquor before striking up a conversation.
The company commander once asked, "I heard you swam over here using basketballs?"
An officer nearby, with a thick Taiwanese accent, chimed in, "Back then, he brought his younger sister and used four basketballs to float across."
The commander asked, "Where are you from?"
Di Xuemeng replied, "Northeast China, Fushun."
The commander said, "You've got guts, swimming across the Pacific."
Di Xuemeng laughed, "If it weren't for my sister, who would dare risk their life like that?"
Half a month later, Kinmen was suddenly placed under martial law. Military police searched the entire military dependents' village three times and dispatched dozens of patrol boats to look for someone—a company commander had fled. Some said he escaped holding two basketballs, possibly defecting to the mainland. Others claimed he swam across without any basketballs.
Later, when the officer who had spoken up earlier came to buy soda, Di Xuemeng asked, "Haven't seen your company commander lately?"
The officer replied, "He's gone. Rumor has it he swam to the mainland holding two basketballs."
That company commander was Lin Zhengyi. When Di Xuemeng finally returned to the mainland in 1990 to visit relatives, he saw a university professor on TV discussing economic issues. He looked familiar, and Di Xuemeng suddenly realized—it was Lin Zhengyi.
The man had changed his name and was now called Lin Yifu.
Di Xuemeng later returned to Fushun, but everything had changed. His wife had long passed away from illness, and his two daughters, who were minors back then, had grown into elderly women. The old man had saved up half a lifetime's earnings from selling soda, exchanged it for fifty thousand U.S. dollars, and gave it to his daughters and grandchildren. He said, "I'm not leaving. I'll die here and be buried with my wife."
Chen Junnan's mother was earning a monthly salary of 450 yuan at the time. Suddenly receiving 100,000 yuan left her at a loss about how to spend it.
Fushun had a tank factory that had been producing Type 59 tanks for years, even exporting them to Iran and Iraq. During the Iran-Iraq War, the factory flourished. Procurement agents from both countries came to Fushun to place orders. Chen Junnan's mother was in charge of reception—she arranged for the Iranian clients to stay at the Friendship Hotel and the Iraqi clients at the Fushun Hotel. Since the two countries were at war, she made sure they never crossed paths. If they had encountered each other and started fighting on our doorstep, the international repercussions would have been disastrous.But the good times didn't last long. The Iran-Iraq War ended, and the Gulf War broke out. Chen Junnan's mother thought the days of sitting back and counting money were coming again—after all, Iraq had thousands of tanks, and they'd need spare parts and replacements when they got damaged. But the ground war lasted only a few days. It was like an elephant stomping on beetles—the Americans crushed Iraq's tanks one by one. As the era of massive steel armies faded, the country shifted its focus to high-tech, and arms factories cut production and pivoted.
The factory declined day by day. Chen Junnan's mother thought, why not use the money Grandpa left to start a business? So she rallied dozens of workers, resigned together, and dove into the private sector, starting a parts factory. She bought stamping machines from the factory and began producing parts for Shenyang's Jinbei vehicles. Slowly, the business grew, and eventually, even BMW sourced parts from her. Once, a Beijing-based supplier owed 200,000 yuan and kept delaying payment. Chen Junnan's mother went to Beijing to collect the debt. The other party said, "We're tight on cash right now—how about we give you two apartments instead?" They explained they had an idle three-bedroom in Wangjing, Beijing, priced at 3,000 yuan per square meter, to settle the debt. Chen Junnan's mother asked, "What does Wangjing mean? It's looking at Beijing from afar—that's not really Beijing." Locals would say they're "going to Beijing" even when visiting Wangfujing, but this was outside the Fifth Ring Road. She retorted, "You say it's 3,000 per square meter, but would anyone actually buy it at that price?" She refused outright, insisting on cash. The supplier said, "Alright, if you want a place in the city, I have a courtyard house on Chengxian Street. It's a bit run-down, but it's in the city center. Want it?" Chen Junnan's mother took one look and said, "This isn't as spacious as our rural courtyard in Fushun. Fine, I'll take the Wangjing apartments—but one isn't enough, give me three."
Chen Junnan didn't need money; his mother wanted him to take over the family business, but he had no interest. For someone like him, it wasn't about wealth but making an impact. Holed up in his Wangjing home in Beijing, Chen Junnan began researching how to turn Professor Du's invention into a mass-produced product. Starting a business meant he couldn't just hire a carpenter to make items one by one. Questions like what materials to use for molds, their load-bearing capacity, and whether they'd fatigue over time were beyond him as a doctor.
Liu Zhengliang said, "I can handle this as an industrial designer. We previously provided design guidance for interventional surgery tools for a German pharmaceutical company. After two project collaborations, I know how this works, and from a design perspective, this invention isn't complicated."
Chen Junnan said, "Then why are you wasting time? Quit your job and start this venture with me."
Liu Zhengliang replied, "I just think the product has potential; I hadn't considered starting a business."
Chen Junnan said, "Then I'll give you equity. Seriously, what era is this? Luo Zhenyu says we're all like USB drives now—plug in wherever needed, no need to tie ourselves to one company. If we can make this product a hit, we'll both achieve financial freedom. I'll register the company first, transfer the tech patent to it, take just 10% of the shares for setting things up, and the rest is yours."
On the phone, the two buddies joked around, and Liu Zhengliang didn't take it too seriously.We have an industrial designer, but we still need a product manager. This product manager must be proficient in materials, understand assembly processes, and have resources with OEM factories. Whether your LED screen is assembled after the outer mold is bonded or installed before the outer mold is bonded makes a difference of over ten percentage points in the yield rate.
Chen Junnan’s mother was worried about him being alone in Beijing, so she came to check on him. He chatted with her, saying he had been meeting with angel investors lately but didn’t have a product manager who understood materials.
Chen Junnan’s mother asked, “What’s a product manager?”
Chen Junnan explained, “It’s someone who not only understands materials but also production processes, knows how to communicate requirements to development and design teams, and comprehensively evaluates the product.”
His mother said, “I didn’t get it at first, but after your explanation, I understand now. What’s a product manager? Isn’t that just a technician in the workshop, or maybe an assistant engineer if they’re a bit more skilled? Look at me, look at your mother—I’m a technician. What material don’t I understand? Do you know what polypropylene can be used for? Do you know the temperature required for welding manganese steel alloy? How do you enhance the longitudinal strength of rubber tracks? Do you know what color first-grade special bauxite used in composite ceramic armor is? Your mother comes from a tank manufacturing background. I missed working on the Type 99, but there isn’t a single earlier generation tank I can’t repair. During the Zhenbao Island conflict, when the Soviet T-62 tank was salvaged from the Heilongjiang River, it was first sent to our factory. My father personally studied its armor materials and sent samples to Beijing for research on anti-tank missiles. Our whole family is made up of engineers and technicians. Why are you worried about finding a product manager?”
Chen Junnan said, “Mom, my invention is meant to be worn on the body to treat illnesses. I can’t have you design a set of alloy steel for people to carry, making them look like Iron Man. Before the cervical spondylosis is cured, they’d end up with lumbar problems.”
His mother replied, “That’s not difficult. What’s civil-military integration? So many inventions and creations from our predecessors are just sitting in the factory archives. You just need lightweight, fatigue-resistant materials, right? ABS plastic isn’t durable enough and breaks easily. How about PVC? If that’s not good enough, there’s PTFE, or polytetrafluoroethylene. This material resists everything—acids, alkalis, light exposure—you could boil it in aqua regia and it’d be fine. It’s also fatigue-resistant and heat-resistant, and it works perfectly even at -70°C in Siberia. Do you know what it’s used for? It’s the explosive gasket in tank shells, with excellent airtightness. When you were little and we couldn’t afford toys, I made you a water gun that could shoot over ten meters—it was made from that material.”
Chen Junnan praised her, saying, “You’d be more like a technical partner and deserve shares.” His mother replied, “No need. I’m just repaying a favor to Liu Zhengliang. Just increase his share ratio.”
Chen Junnan asked, “Why? Is he your biological son, or am I? What favor does he owe you?”
His mother said, “Do you remember when you were in your third year of high school and felt like you couldn’t keep up? You wanted to give up on studying, played games all day, and spent thousands on ‘World of Warcraft’?”
Chen Junnan said, “I remember.”
His mother asked, “And then your account got lost, right?”Chen Junnan said, "Yeah."
His mother said, "When you got it back later, all the equipment was gone, the account had repeatedly violated rules by killing others, and became a wanted criminal in the game, unable to accept quests anymore, right?"
Chen Junnan said, "Yeah, that's why I stopped playing afterward."
His mother said, "The person who stole your account was Liu Zhengliang. He told me about it later. Otherwise, why do you think I begged so many people to arrange a job for him at the Second Hospital? Did you think it was because of your great influence? Because of this incident, I'll be grateful to him for life. Let me tell you, you were able to get into college largely thanks to him—openly tutoring you, while secretly stealing your game account. It's not easy to make a true friend in life. Someone who doesn't cling to you when you're successful and doesn't abandon you when you're down—that's the kind of person worth keeping as a friend."
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