Chapter 80: Transformers

The next generation, Zhao Zejun, has been tangled up in a dispute with Huayang Group these past few days.

It was supposed to be a simple matter—if not for Accountant Chen from Huayang Group bringing it up, Zhao Zejun and Jiang Xuan would have nearly forgotten all about it. Back when Gaogang Village was being rebuilt, Huayang paid Zejian Company a lump sum of 350,000 yuan for the project. But before the reconstruction was halfway done, the work stopped due to relocation issues.

Accountant Chen argued that since the project was incomplete, at least half of the payment should be refunded.

On the surface, Chen’s reasoning made sense. But once money is in hand, who willingly gives it back? Entrepreneurs are like starving wolves; who has ever seen a wolf cough up the meat once it’s in its jaws?

Even a meat bun thrown to a dog never comes back.

Jiang Xuan’s view was to simply ignore Accountant Chen; after all, it was just under 200,000 yuan—surely Huayang wouldn’t go to court over such a sum.

Zhao Zejun weighed his options: he wouldn’t return the money, but things couldn’t be handled as carelessly as Jiang Xuan suggested.

First, Zejian had always maintained a good relationship with Huayang—no need to fall out over a paltry sum. For a company the size of Huayang, even the crumbs from between their fingers would be enough for Zejian to feast on. Second, as a fledgling business, Zejian’s reputation in the industry was crucial. No one wants to deal with a company known for burning bridges and abandoning allies for profit.

If you want to build a big, lasting company, you have to stick to basic business principles; integrity truly matters.

But then again, integrity without capital is not much use.

So Zhao Zejun had a long, frank conversation with Old Chen.

Zejian wouldn’t renege on the debt, but officially, that money was disaster relief funds. If you donate money with one hand and immediately take part of it back with the other, people who know might say it’s a refund for unfinished work—but what about those who don’t? What would people think?

Isn’t that just inviting criticism for Huayang?

Old Chen wasn’t a fool. At the end of the day, the money was owed back, and besides, if Zejian kept quiet, who would even know?

In the end, Zhao Zejun proposed a compromise:

Zejian would refund the money; in return, Huayang would sponsor Zejian with a few vehicles.

Not new or fancy ones—just those heavy-duty coal trucks parked outside Huayang’s branch office.

Old Chen gave Zhao Zejun a long, searching look, neither agreeing nor refusing outright, and made a call to Zheng Yuan for instructions. Surprisingly, Zheng Yuan agreed: two old heavy-duty trucks and a nearly scrapped, long-unused minivan.

Jiang Xuan’s eyes nearly popped out. Zhao Zejun, are you a magician?

What is Zejian Company lacking right now? Trucks—especially big ones for hauling freight. For the upcoming demolition and waste recycling, heavy-duty trucks are nothing short of magical. Each one could easily carry twenty or thirty tons. With these, the recycling project would be smooth sailing.

“The first time I visited Huayang, I already had my eyes on those trucks,” Zhao Zejun said, grinning from ear to ear.

“How did you know Zheng Yuan would agree? Those trucks would cost over 200,000 yuan each on the market,” Jiang Xuan asked.

Zhao Zejun was taking a shot in the dark, but he had his reasons for making the proposal.

First, these trucks were old, used for hauling coal at the mines for years—their purchase cost had long been recouped.

Second, he recalled that since 2002, after the economic transformation in Southern Su Province, the mining industry’s output had stayed flat for years. With the real estate boom driving heavy industry, coal mines should have increased production, but they hadn’t—which meant the big mines were already transitioning. In fact, Huayang Group’s business focus had shifted in those years, and it seemed its coal-mining subsidiaries had all been dissolved.

Whenever he’d visited the Yijiang branch, he’d seen those big trucks parked out front, covered in dust, clearly unused for ages.

There was another reason, something Zhao Zejun guessed at.

In the 1990s, the first wave of wealthy private enterprises in the country made their fortunes by buying up state-owned firms dirt cheap. In the most extreme cases, they’d acquire entire factories, imported equipment, and even technology for next to nothing—just by taking on the original staff and debts.

Huayang Group itself had started by acquiring state-owned coal mines!

So who knew if those heavy trucks had ever cost Huayang much, or anything at all?

Zhao Zejun’s approach with Huayang was, in essence, a replay of that era’s private acquisition of state assets: exchanging idle equipment for cash, each side getting what it needed. The key was correctly guessing that those trucks really were “idle assets.”

And he’d guessed right.

The next morning, Zhao Zejun and Jiang Xuan arrived at Huayang Group’s Yijiang branch.

Two hulking, transformer-like machines radiated metal power—not at all comparable to a family sedan. Standing next to them, you felt like you were beside a metal mountain.

They were much like the dump trucks commonly seen in future years—huge cabs with giant tilting beds, capable of carrying twenty tons, or nearly thirty if overloaded. In the past, seeing these big trucks barreling down the road, Zhao Zejun had always found them annoying—dangerous, noisy, and polluting. But now, looking at his very own trucks, a sense of affection welled up in him.

He couldn’t help but think of those two beasts as treasure ships from an old cartoon, ready to bring endless cash into his arms once set in motion.

If not for the presence of others, he might have hugged the trucks with glee.

Ugly as they were, driving them was truly impressive—BMWs, Audis, Land Rovers, all paled in comparison to a heavy-duty truck. Unless you ran into a tank, you were king of the road.

The “bonus” minivan was indeed a wreck: one headlight broken, the rear bumper snapped in two like a little tail, and a dent in the door—likely from a collision.

They took the vehicles to the repair shop for inspection. The trucks were as sturdy as ever and would be good for several more years. With some cosmetic work, the minivan would be a nimble little tiger once more.

Fantastic! A minivan and a pair of heavy-duty trucks—a classic setup for a local tycoon. If only they had a pickup, it would be perfect.

Next, they’d need to hire some truck drivers, get high-coverage insurance for the vehicles, and ideally train some of their own staff to get truck licenses, so they wouldn’t always have to rent outside drivers. Jiang Xuan herself would be a good candidate—riding a motorcycle around every day wasn’t safe.

While Zhao Zejun was sorting out the trucks, Jiang Xuan had already contacted a construction waste recycling plant.

Of all the nearby cities, there was only one plant with the right equipment and credentials. Once the project started, all Zejian had to do was haul the debris over—each ton netting two to three hundred yuan in profit.

Large-scale demolition was a gold mine—demolition crews, recycling, transport, and disposal, every link in the chain had its cut. It was a complete industry.

The key was securing the entry permit for the site. Without it, no matter how good your credentials or equipment, you’d only get the leftovers.

Old Li from the demolition office had mentioned over drinks that there were nineteen companies involved in the Gaogang Village demolition. The biggest player was Southern Su Province’s Second Construction Company—a true giant, specializing in national projects like highways.

Among these, Zejian was the smallest fish. With the heavyweights leading the way, all Zejian needed to do was follow along and pick up the scraps.

Being small had its advantages—everyone else was a “big shot” compared to Zejian. During demolition, they could make useful connections with people from other companies, which would benefit Zejian’s future development.

Especially the Second Construction Company.

Zhao Zejun couldn’t help but think wryly: after all is said and done, would Zejian Company end up being the biggest winner this year?

Boss Wang, just wait for me. Your little brother will strive to join you soon, so we can take down Disney together.

…

With everything in place, all that was left was to start collecting debris. Zhao Zejun suddenly felt much lighter.

He called Ren Bida, asking him to help find a house.

His parents would be returning in August, and that cousin he hadn’t seen in years was coming too. The family needed a place to stay.

This time, buying a house wasn’t about making money or planning for appreciation—it was simply about finding a comfortable home for his parents.

Zhao Zejun’s criteria: a nice environment, a moderate size—enough for his parents to live comfortably for at least ten years, but not too large. A villa would make him bleed financially, and his parents might not even enjoy living in one.

After hanging up with Ren Bida, Zhao Zejun paused, then dialed Xia Yubing’s number once more.

He’d called her after the exam results came out, and now this was his third call to her that summer.

The first two times, Xia Yubing hadn’t answered, and Zhao Zejun still didn’t know what had happened with her.

Maybe she’d figured things out and decided not to take his calls anymore.

Whatever the case, it had been a relationship—regret or not, Zhao Zejun didn’t want them to part ways with misunderstandings lingering between them.

Sometimes he reflected on his own flaws—he was as much a man as any, distant when she cared, and worried when she didn’t. He didn’t mind; after all, he was just an ordinary guy, scheming daily, and the occasional petty act reminded him he was still human—not a saint, nor someone lost in darkness.

Three tries is enough. One last call.