Chapter Twenty-Nine: A Blatant Slap in the Face

Chen Hao was stunned. "Liu Weidong, what’s your game? Are you trying to pick a fight? Fine, I’ll bid two thousand one hundred."

"I bid two thousand two hundred." Liu Weidong raised his hand again.

Chen Hao’s face turned pale with rage, and he pointed at Liu Weidong, cursing, "Liu Weidong, do you believe I’ll kill you? We’ll settle our scores later. I’m handling real business today, so get the hell out of here!"

Liu Weidong remained expressionless. "Two thousand two hundred. One hundred more than you."

"Damn it..." Chen Hao lunged forward, but the police officer held him back.

"Officer, you heard him! He just threatened to kill me. You have to protect me!"

Officer Zhao pushed Chen Hao back into his chair. "Calm down. If you want to buy the house, just buy it. Shouting bids is useless; putting the money on the table is what matters."

Hearing this, Chen Hao opened his bag and slammed a newspaper-wrapped bundle onto the table. "Two thousand two hundred. Old Man Guan, if you agree, I’ll pay right now."

The old couple looked at each other. Just as the old man was about to agree, Liu Weidong spoke up again: "Leave the firewood, coal, and all the pots and pans in the kitchen, and I’ll pay three thousand."

"Liu Weidong, are you fucking trying to start a fight? If you can even come up with one thousand, I’ll call you 'Dad.' Old Man Guan, don't listen to this bumpkin’s bragging. He’s just driving up the price to screw me over. If he can actually produce the cash—"

Before Chen Hao could finish, Liu Weidong unzipped his military satchel and pulled out three thick stacks of "Great Unity" banknotes, placing them on the kang bed.

"Good son, hurry up and call me 'Dad.' This is three thousand, so you owe me at least three 'Dads'."

Three thousand yuan, three unbundled stacks sitting on the kang. Not only was Chen Hao stunned, but even the old Guan couple was dumbfounded.

"Young man, are you serious? You won't regret this?"

Liu Weidong nodded, but his eyes stayed on Chen Hao. "Good son, can you pull out three thousand? If you can, let’s keep bidding. If you can’t, start calling me 'Dad'."

Chen Hao pointed at Liu Weidong, stammering, then grabbed his money and bolted out the door. The police officer nodded to the Guan couple and hurried after him. Once they were gone, Liu Weidong pushed the money toward the old man.

"Sir, to be honest, this house really isn’t worth this much. If I hadn't been trying to spite Chen Hao, would you have gotten these extra eight hundred yuan?"

The old man grabbed the money immediately. "Don't say that. It's a case of one willing to pay and one willing to sell. You said it yourself, no backing out now. Let’s go to the housing authority and handle the paperwork right now."

Liu Weidong slapped his own face. "My mouth is my own worst enemy; I accept the loss. Consider it a few hundred extra just to vent my anger. But sir, before we file the paperwork, let’s sign a gentleman's agreement. Everything you’re taking when you move out must be clearly listed. Once it's signed, it’s set in stone—no backing out for either side."

Both parties quickly signed and pressed their fingerprints. The old man agreed to take only his bedding, clothing, and grain, leaving everything else behind. With the agreement clearly written, Liu Weidong accompanied the old man to the housing authority.

At the housing authority, the transfer was processed quickly. On the application form, Liu Weidong didn’t write his own name; he filled in Lou Yanru’s.

After obtaining the property deed, the old man called his son from the housing authority’s phone. Shortly after returning to the brick house, three tricycle carts arrived, and they moved everything—people and luggage—in one trip.

Once the couple left, Liu Weidong let out a long sigh. This wasn't just buying a house; it was like picking up money, while simultaneously getting back at that pest, Chen Hao.

But why would Chen Hao come to the East District to buy a bungalow? Could it be that the municipal government was already planning the development of the East Market? Chen Hao had mentioned his father worked at the Construction Committee, which made Liu Weidong’s suspicion even more likely. It seemed he needed to accelerate his investment plan.

After sweeping the courtyard, Liu Weidong looked at the small property with satisfaction. He locked the gate and began to scour the place for treasures. Sure enough, in the coal shed, he found an old wooden crate containing several gems: a complete set of the *Baihua Poetry Collection* from the third year of the Xuantong reign, in perfect condition, even the wooden box was intact. There were also copies of the *Zhaodai Series*, *Zuo Zhuan*, and several ancient books from the *Tongde Hall* collection, all of which were highly valuable. Old Man Guan had hidden such precious books in a coal shed—either he didn't know their worth, or the "Four Olds" campaign had terrified him into hiding them. There were also some Qing dynasty folk-kiln porcelains; not worth much, but good enough to keep for fun.

Liu Weidong’s heart hammered in his chest. This was his first pot of gold since his rebirth, far more profitable than selling patents. After cleaning the treasures and tucking them into the kang cabinet, he remembered the most critical problem: he and Lou Yanru had been staying in a guesthouse in the city and had no bedding of their own. Buying cloth and cotton required ration coupons, and even if he could buy them, he didn't have time to sew. Plus, there was no rice or oil in the house to cook with.

Helpless, he sought out Manager Wang for help. When he told the manager about buying the house, Manager Wang’s eyes widened.

"Are you a nouveau riche? A two-bedroom apartment over 80 square meters, and you spent three thousand? Don't you know that price could buy two new apartments?"

"Brother Wang, I was in a rush. I’m still at a hotel, paying several yuan a day, and I have to eat out for every meal. I can’t afford that kind of spending. The house is expensive, but it has a private property deed, it’s street-facing, and they left me all the coal and firewood. Could you help me get two sets of bedding and buy some grain and oil...?"

Manager Wang agreed readily. After a quick phone call, he told Liu Weidong to go to the Military Supply Station and look for Station Master Li.

Liu Weidong rushed home to grab his bicycle and happily headed back to the hotel. After checking out and tucking his remaining pack of "Big Ginseng" cigarettes under his arm, he headed to Nanjing Street. The Military Supply Station was an agency with real authority, stocked not only with military bedding and uniforms but also grain. Liu Weidong brought the cigarettes to build a relationship with Station Master Li. He knew that for the next few years, the grain ration card would remain a major barrier between urban and rural life; not being able to buy grain was a huge problem.

As luck would have it, when Liu Weidong arrived, two Liberation trucks were unloading grain at the entrance. His heart soared.

Inside the station master’s office, he placed the newspaper-wrapped "Big Ginseng" cigarettes on Station Master Li’s desk.

"We’re friends, why go through all this trouble? I visit Director Wang often; this feels so distant."

"The value of the gift doesn't matter, but the gesture is necessary. I don’t have many friends in Binjiang, but Brother Wang told me you’re a stand-up guy. If I have the chance to get to know you as a brother, how could I neglect the proper manners?"

Station Master Li laughed, patted Liu Weidong on the shoulder, and invited him downstairs. The military supply station was nothing like a regular general store. It was only then that Liu Weidong realized just how much power Station Master Li had. He was given two sets of military bedding, two sets of polyester-cotton military uniforms—the four-pocket cadre style—a bag of rice, and a drum of soybean oil, all without paying a single cent.

"Brother Li, I can't accept this. Let me pay for these items."

Station Master Li gave him a meaningful look. "Just go. What unit doesn't have a little bit of 'wastage'? A massive military supply station like this can handle a little bit of stuff for you. You and I are brothers now, let’s keep in touch. Don't waste time haggling here..."