Chapter 8: Entering the Black Market
Sheng Wanyan felt a wave of sympathy for her father. In his later life, he had been a man accustomed to the finest delicacies from land and sea; yet here he was, completely overjoyed by a simple bowl of cornmeal noodles.
After their modest dinner, the family turned in early to rest. In those days, entertainment was virtually nonexistent, and most households were asleep by seven or eight in the evening.
Her parents had spent the day keeping their ears to the ground at their respective factories, hoping for any news of employment, but their efforts had yielded nothing.
Before sleeping, Mother Sheng let out a heavy sigh. Her children were truly the greatest source of worry in her life.
Father Sheng patted her shoulder reassuringly. “We still have half a month left. Let’s use this time to carefully select a good family for her.”
Mother Sheng nodded. Her daughter was of marriageable age, and if all else failed, marriage was their absolute last resort.
The next morning, after sharing breakfast with her grandparents, Sheng Wanyan slipped out of the apartment carrying a large bamboo basket. From the original owner’s memories, she knew exactly where the city’s black market was located.
Her plan was to approach the factory residential quarters to sell her goods, but she needed to price them according to black market rates. After all, she was running a business, and it was impossible to do so without turning a profit.
Finding a completely deserted alley, she ducked into her space to disguise her appearance. Fortunately, she had mastered advanced makeup techniques in her previous life. She expertly painted her face to resemble a sallow, middle-aged woman, and changed into the most worn-out clothes she had stockpiled. At a casual glance, she looked entirely ordinary and instantly forgettable.
Into her bamboo basket, she packed three jin of high-quality white rice, three dressed rabbits, two pheasants, and a jin of brown sugar. Since this was her first time testing the waters, she decided to be conservative. It was better to make a modest amount of money first and build up her capital over time. She needed to gauge the situation carefully and avoid drawing any unwanted attention from the authorities.
Exiting the space, Sheng Wanyan navigated the gray streets toward the black market. As she approached the hidden entrance, an elderly man acting as a lookout stepped forward to block her path.
Sheng Wanyan smoothly opened her basket and slipped him two pieces of hard candy. In this era, candy was a precious luxury. The old man glanced at the impressive goods hidden beneath the cloth covering her basket, smiled, and waved her inside.
The black market was situated in a long, narrow alley. Those selling goods lined the walls, positioned perfectly so they could bolt down the middle of the passage at a moment’s notice. Private buying and selling was strictly illegal, and anyone caught would be branded a “speculator.” Such a charge meant forced labor and re-education, a disgrace that would ruin an entire family’s future.
Yet, because food and daily supplies were severely rationed and in constant short supply, people willingly risked everything.
Sheng Wanyan didn’t display her goods immediately. Instead, she wandered the alley, casually whispering to other vendors to learn the going rates. Though her space held an endless bounty, she had no intention of being taken advantage of. To survive in this era, she had to play by its rules. The people here were desperate enough to risk their lives for a handful of grain, and she had to be careful; one wrong move could cost her dearly. She wasn’t a saint—in fact, she was quite selfish. There was nothing wrong with protecting herself, so long as it didn’t harm anyone else.
After talking to a couple of speculators, she got a clear picture of the market. Black market prices were double those of the state-run Supply and Marketing Cooperatives, and that was the premium people paid to buy goods without needing scarce commodity coupons.
Sheng Wanyan walked to the center of the market and squatted near the mouth of a smaller intersecting alley, placing her basket firmly on the ground. This specific spot was ideal; it offered high foot traffic and an easy escape route if things went south.
Almost the moment she settled down, a pair of polished leather shoes stepped into her field of vision.
“Sister, what do you have in the basket?”
The speaker was a young man in his early thirties. Anyone who could afford leather shoes in this day and age was flush with cash. But in this era, cash alone couldn’t buy meat if you lacked the proper coupons.
“I have three pounds of white rice, some wild game, and a pound of brown sugar,” Sheng Wanyan replied, pitching her voice down to perfectly mimic a weathered, middle-aged country woman. It was one of the many vocal stunts she had learned in her past life.
Hearing that she had refined white rice and brown sugar, the man immediately squatted down to inspect the basket. The moment he saw the pristine, pearly white grains, his eyes lit up. His wife was currently pregnant and desperately needed fine grains and brown sugar to nourish her body.
“How much?”
“The rice is thirty cents a pound, the brown sugar is one yuan a pound, and the game is three yuan a pound—each animal is roughly two pounds. I’ll need coupons with the cash; any type will do.”
Sheng Wanyan quoted her prices fairly, refusing to gouge him. She was currently starved for coupons, which she needed to buy items for her grandparents. The young man nodded in agreement.
“I’ll take all the rice and brown sugar, plus one rabbit and one pheasant.”
The man purchased the bulk of her inventory, and Sheng Wanyan quickly wrapped the items and handed them over. Once he departed, two more customers approached, quickly buying up her remaining pheasant and two rabbits.
Sheng Wanyan promptly closed her basket. She had achieved her goal for the day: testing the waters and understanding the local economy. It was unwise to linger or look too conspicuous on her first run, especially since her heart was still thumping with adrenaline.
Finding another secluded spot, she ducked into her space to count her earnings from the hour. She had made fifteen yuan from the wild game, one yuan from the brown sugar, and ninety cents from the rice. Additionally, she had acquired three national grain coupons, two sugar coupons, and four local utility coupons.
In total, she had cleared 16.9 yuan. While it was pocket change in her previous life, it was a small fortune in 1973. Combined with the original owner’s savings and the money she had forcefully clawed back from Sheng Xiuying, her total cash reserves now stood at 61.6 yuan.
Sheng Wanyan enjoyed a quick, simple meal inside her space, treating herself to some fresh fruit. She checked the time. The factory shifts wouldn’t end for a while, meaning the residential compounds would be quiet. She needed to make her moves while the workers were still on the factory floor, ensuring the courtyards weren’t too crowded.
Waiting until 2:30 p.m., she packed a new, larger inventory into her basket: five kilograms of brown sugar, three kilograms of white sugar, ten kilograms of white rice, one pheasant, one rabbit, and twenty fresh eggs. Keeping her sallow makeup intact, she walked briskly toward the machine tool factory’s staff quarters.
As she neared the entrance of the crowded, tube-shaped residential buildings, she watched a few housewives stepping out to run errands. Her eyes locked onto a well-dressed, older matron who looked like she was heading toward the market.
Sheng Wanyan glided past her, leaning in to whisper, “Auntie, I have fine white rice.”
The elderly woman’s eyes flashed with sudden intensity. She cast a sharp, wary glance at the neighbors around them before whispering back, “Are you serious?”
Sheng Wanyan nodded convincingly.
“Come up to my apartment,” the matron commanded. Realizing how suspicious that might sound to passersby, she quickly clarified in a loud, boisterous voice, “Oh, sister-in-law! What brings you into the city today? Come inside and have a cup of hot water!”
Sheng Wanyan smiled inwardly at the woman’s quick wit and played along seamlessly. “Father-in-law insisted I bring some things by!”
The matron beamed, guiding her up the stairwell. Sheng Wanyan hadn’t anticipated that the apartment would be on the fifth floor; hauling a basket laden with heavy sacks of rice and sugar up five flights of concrete stairs left her legs burning.
Once inside, the matron locked the door, handed her a glass of water, and eagerly gestured toward the basket. Sheng Wanyan set it down and pulled back the cloth lining. When the old woman saw the bounty of refined sugar, white rice, fresh meat, and unbroken eggs, her face flushed with pure, unadulterated joy.
