Beloved Light Beloved Light 04

After finishing their meal, A-Biao led A-Ren and A-Yi to a teahouse. It was just past two in the afternoon. The three hoped that the tea would help cleanse the heaviness of the meat and alcohol from their systems and shake off the drowsiness brought by the spring air.

The plague had left public places deserted, and the teahouse was completely empty. The proprietor, upon seeing the three men enter, was overjoyed, as if he hadn't seen a living soul in ages. He rushed to attend to them, though the trio chose to sit in an inconspicuous corner.

A-Biao first asked about A-Ren’s uncle. Finding the inquiry warm and friendly, A-Ren poured out the entire story of his search for his relative, becoming more animated as he spoke.

Neither A-Yi nor A-Biao had a chance to interject. Noticing that his two companions were looking around, clearly uninterested in his rambling, A-Ren quickly took a sip of the scalding tea and fell silent.

Once they had finished a pot, A-Yi finally spoke up. "The factory is shut down, and there's no hope for back pay. We have to find a way forward on our own now. A-Biao, you’re sharp—do you have any other ways to make money?"

A-Ren turned his gaze to A-Biao as well. A-Biao took a sip of tea, spat out some tea leaves, narrowed his eyes, and sighed.

"The three of us are brothers in adversity, not strangers. If you have any ideas, just say them, right? Brother A-Ren!" A-Yi sounded somewhat anxious.

A-Ren kept his eyes fixed on A-Biao. A-Biao smacked his lips, causing the mustache above his lip to bob up and down. Unbeknownst to him, A-Ren’s attention had been completely captured by that exquisite mustache, and he watched it, mesmerized.

A-Biao took another sip of tea, opened his narrow eyes, and looked at A-Ren and A-Yi with the air of a patriarch. He tilted his head toward the ceiling and said, "There is a way, but..." Halfway through, he lowered his head and knitted his brows. His narrow eyes suddenly widened, and he leaned forward at a forty-five-degree angle. Seeing this, A-Ren and A-Yi immediately mirrored his posture, their ears perked up, waiting for A-Biao’s golden words.

"But the way is not exactly legal!" A-Biao’s words were crisp and clear; though his voice was soft, it resonated like a booming bell, leaving A-Ren and A-Yi stunned for a long moment.

"What?" A-Ren’s loud voice startled A-Biao. A-Yi gestured for A-Ren to keep it down, and A-Ren hurriedly scanned the surroundings. The shop was still empty, save for the proprietor sitting at the front desk, lost in a daze. A-Ren’s exclamation had woken the proprietor, who hurriedly stood up, grabbed a kettle to refill their tea, offered a sheepish, apologetic smile, and returned to his seat.

When the silence returned, A-Yi asked A-Biao, "How is it illegal?"

A-Biao looked toward the front desk, pulled out a few cigarettes, and handed them to the others. All three began to smoke. A-Biao continued, "We are all factory workers. Aside from dealing with machines, we don't know anything else. It's not easy to find work now. The ways to make money are all monopolized by big corporations. If you want to start a business without capital or technical skills, it’s all nonsense. Look at the news online—those wealthy people, as soon as their new internet companies go public, they flip them for millions or tens of millions. What money is left for us poor folks to earn? Is there any justice in this godforsaken world?"

Even A-Yi didn't quite grasp the point, only understanding that money was hard to come by and that the rich had taken everything. A-Biao hadn't yet explained what they should do about it.

The two continued to stare at A-Biao. He puffed on his cigarette unhurriedly, slowly exhaling clouds of smoke. Suddenly, he tightened his brow and stubbed out the cigarette.

"To put it bluntly, we’ve ended up in this state because of those wealthy, powerful capitalists. We can't keep living by the old rulebook anymore. I’ve come up with a plan: selling scrap!"

"What?" A-Yi was disappointed. After waiting so long, he expected something better than scavenging. "We were workers at a major, formal enterprise. Even at our worst, we shouldn't be reduced to picking through trash!"

"Don't be so impatient, brother. I'm not talking about ordinary trash—I'm talking about the 'trash' inside the factory!" A-Biao revealed a sinister smile.

A-Yi suddenly realized what he meant and fell into deep thought. A-Ren remained confused, looking at A-Yi, who had gone silent, and asked, "What kind of scrap is it?"

A-Biao chuckled, but A-Yi asked, "Is this really a good idea? It’s all factory assets. If we do this, it’s not just some minor offense—it’s a real crime!"

"A crime is a crime; who cares if it’s minor or not? Like I said, we’re workers. We’ve spent over a decade tinkering with those machines. Aside from that, what other skills do we have to make money? Besides, didn't you ask me to think of a way?!"

"Don't get angry, don't get angry. We can discuss this," A-Ren said, seeing A-Biao’s irritation, and quickly refilled the tea for his two older brothers.

Seeing A-Biao’s resolve, A-Yi sighed. "You're right. Aside from smelting steel and working iron, what else do we know? But can we really pull this off?"

"Don't worry. It only takes a few steps. First, we handle the gate security, then we find a truck. As for who to sell it to, I’ve already figured that out. Everything else will fall into place."

The three leaned in at a forty-five-degree angle once more. A-Biao detailed the entire process, the precautions, and the division of labor.

And so, in that small teahouse, the three reached an agreement and began their respective preparations.