Chapter Fifty-Six: I Don’t Want to Take the Lead (Extra Chapter)

But hoarding and reselling bicycles was never going to be a sustainable business. With the country opening up to the world, a flood of industrial products would soon arrive, and perhaps one morning, his uncle would come to him with a long face, saying bicycles could no longer be sold. During the Spring Festival, Hong Tao had already warned his uncle not to stockpile bicycle parts anymore; having enough for just two bicycles would suffice, and ideally, they should buy parts only as needed.

Given his uncle's character, he would surely listen, especially since Hong Tao specifically advised him not to spend the money he had saved, as it would be needed for something big. Hong Tao had already found a new way for his uncle to make money: manufacturing and selling furniture. This idea wasn't Hong Tao's own, but rather an inspiration evolved from the forty-six billion harmonies.

Just before the Spring Festival, the Department Store received a batch of new-style furniture: folding chairs and tables with electroplated legs, a heavy cabinet with glass doors, and a wardrobe whose entire door was a large mirror. Hong Tao's mother wanted to buy a few folding chairs with electroplated legs, so the family of three arrived at the Department Store around eight in the morning, nearly pressed flat by the crowd. In the end, they didn't get a single chair; everything was snatched up immediately. With his father's slight build, he couldn't even get within five meters of the counter.

This time, Hong Tao truly witnessed the public's enthusiasm for new things and their astounding purchasing power. The front of the counter was packed with able-bodied adults, each holding a wad of ten-yuan notes, not even bothering to specify what they wanted—they simply bought whatever was available. When the crowd dispersed, only a few damaged counters and a wardrobe with scratches on its lacquer remained, which someone quickly bought as well.

It was this wardrobe that gave Hong Tao an idea for a business perfectly suited to this era: low investment, quick returns. His inspiration came from the wardrobe’s glass mirror, which was different from ordinary mirrors; it had patterns not painted but etched with tools—clearly handmade. Hong Tao had seen such things before and had even made them himself.

In later years, Hong Tao befriended an angler from HB whose family lived in Xianghe City, the most famous furniture distribution center around BJ. This friend’s family owned a furniture factory. When Hong Tao went fishing to the east, he often visited them and their factory. Sometimes, the two would share a drink at the factory, and for Hong Tao, whose curiosity was always at full throttle, he’d seen everything except the process for making glass furniture. He tried it himself, using special tools to engrave a fish onto a piece of tempered glass.

Hong Tao had confidence in his drawing skills, and the fish he etched was lifelike. His friend even crafted that glass into a coffee table, placing it in his office. It was the only piece Hong Tao signed in his previous life, collected by someone else, and possibly passed down through generations.

But the focus wasn’t on Hong Tao’s drawing, it was the glass coffee table.

Hong Tao clearly remembered that from the early to mid-1980s, glass furniture started to become popular in BJ, mostly coffee tables, as many families had sofas and needed a coffee table to complement them. This style persisted into later years, becoming more complex and beautiful. The earliest glass coffee tables were simple: a wooden frame topped with a piece of glass, etched with patterns. The value lay in the glass and its design.

The technique was simple—the tool for etching glass was an electric drill fitted not with a regular bit but with a small grinding wheel like those used in dental clinics. It wasn’t until the 1990s that specialized glass processing lines appeared. Another essential element was the glass itself—it had to be tempered glass. Ordinary plate glass wasn’t strong enough, prone to heat and impact damage, and unsafe; when shattered, it could easily injure someone.

Hong Tao knew the earliest producer of tempered glass in northern China—it was in Qinhuangdao, originally called Yaohua Glass Factory, later Yaohua Group. The factory grew by producing tempered glass, then expanded to automotive windshields. It was the first to supply windshields for imported cars.

But knowing the technique and source of materials wasn’t enough; the crucial thing was whether the state allowed you to manufacture and sell these products. Hong Tao couldn’t remember exactly which year the policy would be enacted, so he could only wait patiently. He didn’t intend to run a tailor shop or furniture factory himself; he planned to buy shares, either with capital or technology, and become a thorough capitalist, letting his uncle and aunt blaze the trail while he stayed behind, counting his money.

Aside from planning his future, Hong Tao didn’t keep Teacher Wang, the homeroom teacher, waiting. On the third day of school, he presented her with a tough problem: he neither wrote nor handed in his homework, yet brazenly collected his classmates’ assignments as the class monitor. His main duty was to gather everyone’s homework before class and deliver the stack to each subject teacher in the office.

"Hong Tao, where’s your homework?" The second period was Teacher Wang’s math class. She’d finished grading everyone’s homework, except Hong Tao’s.

"I didn’t write it," Hong Tao stood up properly and answered.

A ripple went through the class as all the children turned to look at the bold class monitor who’d refused to do his homework.

"...I know you already understand it, but you still have to do your homework. It’s school discipline!" Teacher Wang almost choked on Hong Tao’s straightforward reply, realizing trouble was brewing.

"Homework is meant to help students remember what they’ve learned. Since I’ve already remembered it, I don’t need to write it. The school set this rule to help us learn, not to punish us, right?" Hong Tao had made up his mind—he was here to cause trouble, so long as he still bore the title of class monitor. He’d stir things up but never cross the moral line, keeping himself safe.

"But you’re the class monitor; shouldn’t you set a good example?" Teacher Wang tried to reason with him.

"Then maybe I shouldn’t be the class monitor. Let someone else lead, and I’ll follow behind," Hong Tao replied, unmoved.

"...Alright, let’s get on with the lesson. Come to my office after class," Teacher Wang saw there was no point in continuing in front of dozens of eager children and decided to let it go for now.

"Permission to enter!" After class, Hong Tao promptly arrived outside the first-grade staff room.

"Come in... Oh, it’s Hong Tao! I heard you were sick—otherwise we’d have met last year. Are you better now?" At the door sat Mr. Liu with glasses, the language teacher who’d first noticed Hong Tao’s handwriting was unlike other children his age.

"Hello, Teacher Liu. I’m better now, thank you for your concern," Hong Tao replied politely, liking the old man.

"What brings you to the office? My class is next; don’t cause trouble or I’ll have to visit your home for a chat!" Teacher Liu, responsible for first-grade language, joked upon seeing Hong Tao.

"I’m here for Teacher Wang..." Hong Tao pointed to the homeroom teacher inside.

"Oh, you’ve made another mistake? Sigh, can’t you behave for a few days? On the first day of school, you’re already in trouble—really worrisome. Go on then," Teacher Liu realized.

"Why don’t you want to be class monitor? You can’t be so selfish. Being a good student is great, but wouldn’t it be better if you helped the whole class progress?" Teacher Wang, having held back during the lesson, now began to teach Hong Tao about life.

"I can only be responsible for myself. I can’t lead my classmates to improve because the gap is too big—it’s like having a university professor teach elementary students; it won’t work. My study methods don’t suit them, and they can’t learn the right way from me. Besides, you didn’t ask my opinion before making me class monitor. I think it’s better if I don’t do it, so I don’t lead others astray. Don’t you agree?" Hong Tao answered decisively—he simply refused, no matter what was said.

"Ha, do you think having a university professor for a father gives you the right to look down on everyone?" Teacher Wang was furious.

"This has nothing to do with my father. If you think his methods aren’t good, you can talk to him directly, or teach someone who surpasses me," Hong Tao disliked it when the conversation turned to his parents. Hearing Teacher Wang bring up his family, his tone became harsher.

"You’re being arrogant! You... you... what gives you the right to say others aren’t as good as you?" Teacher Wang was stunned, arguing with Hong Tao.

"Grades, of course! No matter how nicely you talk or how much homework you do, what matters in the end? Exam results! Don’t worry, the midterm exam is just a few months away. When the grades come out, you’ll see. If you don’t want me to be class monitor, I can attend lessons obediently and get first place in the exams. It’ll look good for you and feel good for me. Isn’t that better? Why not just pick someone else?" Hong Tao, not wanting to antagonize every teacher, softened his tone and negotiated his resignation with the homeroom teacher.