Chapter 74: The Vicious Dog of the Landlord’s Manor

The reason Chai Jin came here wasn’t solely to look for Su Wenbin; another crucial purpose was to recruit people.

Shenzhen’s subscription certificates would be up for grabs in August unless something unexpected happened. Compared to the initial indifference towards Zhonghai’s certificates, Shenzhen’s were a veritable battlefield. It was even the backdrop for the infamous 810 Incident, which would go down in history.

The piece of the pie Chai Jin wanted was by no means easy to get. His family had over thirty thousand borrowed ID cards, all of which required someone to queue up and purchase certificates. For that, he needed a large number of people to stand in line with him. Of all the places, only here—where so many workers gathered—could he mobilize such numbers at once.

So, with multiple aims in mind, he came here.

Not finding Su Wenbin left him somewhat disappointed. As he ate, his thoughts drifted to his plan to invest in the mobile phone business. The factory across the street assembled Big Brother handsets and similar products, didn’t it? Maybe he should spend some time here and see what opportunities arose.

Chai Jin set down his chopsticks, wiped his mouth, paid the bill, and joined the line with his bag in hand.

The sky over Shenzhen had been clear, but it changed in an instant. Suddenly, a torrential rain poured down. Yet the line at the Hongchang Electronics Factory entrance remained perfectly orderly; no one was willing to give up their hard-won place. No matter the era, workers are always the ones who suffer most.

Among these people, many had once been proud employees of state-owned factories. Swept up by the tide of the times, they now had to work in unfamiliar cities, subject to the moods of strangers—a bitter pill to swallow, no doubt.

Chai Jin, too, remained in line. He frowned as he watched the staff at the registration desk ahead, standing aloof under umbrellas, shouting orders while ignoring the crowd getting soaked.

After nearly an hour, it was finally Chai Jin’s turn.

“ID card,” the young man at the desk said coldly.

“Oh.” Chai Jin handed it over.

The young man inspected the card, then tossed a form over. “Write your name yourself. After registration, you’ll take the factory’s mandatory physical.”

Chai Jin ignored his attitude. Seeing many names already on the form, he began searching through them one by one.

The youth, seeing him hesitate, rapped the table impatiently. “Hurry up—what’s taking so long to fill out a form? What, can’t write? If you can’t write, just take your ID and leave. We don’t hire illiterates.”

“I can, I can.” Chai Jin’s eyes were still scanning the form.

To his surprise, he actually found Su Wenbin’s name further down the list. The registration time was three hours earlier, meaning Su Wenbin had already entered the factory before Chai Jin arrived.

Quickly, he scribbled down his name.

Just as he was finishing, a black Mercedes approached the factory gate. The staff at the registration desk immediately stood up straight, as if they’d seen their own father, their previous arrogance vanishing in an instant.

Everyone at the gate turned to look curiously.

The car window rolled down, revealing a strikingly beautiful young woman, who angrily addressed them: “How can you treat people like this? They’re standing in the rain—couldn’t you at least put up a shelter? Making people get soaked like this…”

The young man scurried over like a lapdog. “Miss, the rain came on so suddenly—we weren’t prepared. We’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

The girl wanted to say more, but a middle-aged man inside cut her off coolly: “Nini, enough. Don’t interfere with their work. The rain in Shenzhen comes and goes quickly, and in this heat, a bit of rain is refreshing.”

“Just mind your own business. Don’t worry about us.”

“But Dad, we can’t just—”

Before she could finish, the window rolled up and the car drove into the factory.

Chai Jin scratched his head, watching the car disappear. “Why does that girl look so familiar?”

While he stood there lost in thought, the young man from the registration desk came over again, his manner as surly as ever. “What are you staring at? Go inside. Don’t waste time.”

“We’ll return your ID cards together this afternoon,” he added, tossing Chai Jin’s card into a box with a gesture full of contempt.

Chai Jin, brow furrowed, said nothing. He took the receipt and entered the factory.

The grounds were vast, mainly assembling mobile phones, televisions, washing machines, and similar products. Such labor-intensive enterprises needed lots of hands, and the place was packed.

Inside the main hall, a sea of people—at least several hundred—waited anxiously. The oppressive June heat of the south rendered the ceiling fans useless; many sat on the floor, trying to cool off.

After having his blood drawn, Chai Jin began weaving through the crowd, searching for someone. But with so many people, his efforts were fruitless.

A little after one in the afternoon, the young man from registration appeared at the door, flanked by two others in work uniforms. Several large boxes nearby contained the workers’ ID cards.

His arrival brought instant silence as everyone stood up.

He hefted a box onto the desk, picked up a megaphone, and began: “If your name is called, come get your ID. Don’t waste time.”

As he spoke, he glanced at an ID card. “Liao Minghui.”

“Here!” A middle-aged man hurried forward to claim it.

But instead of handing it over, the young man tossed it to the floor without even looking at him.

Everyone was stunned—what an insult!

When the man hesitated, the young man snapped impatiently, “Pick up your ID and go find out your department. What are you dawdling for?”

The middle-aged man seethed. Old enough to be the boy’s father, yet he was being humiliated like this. Still, desperate for work, he swallowed his anger, bent to pick up the card, and moved aside.

The young man continued, voice haughty as ever: “Li Jianguo.” Smack—the card landed on the ground.

Without waiting for a response, he grabbed another: “Wang Zhongqiang.”

“Liu Mingzhi.” Smack.

“Wang Fenglian.” Smack.

And so, in no time, there was a crowd bending over in front of him, searching for their IDs. The young man, megaphone in one hand and cards in the other, was more arrogant than an old-time landlord.

He was just another worker, yet being in charge of recruitment, accustomed to people’s forced smiles, he mistook their politeness for his own superiority. This attitude left everyone seething with silent resentment.

After a dozen minutes, the youth paused to take a drink. He glanced at another card and lazily called out, “Chai Jin.”

With a flick of his two fingers, he contemptuously tossed the ID card to the floor.