Life Experience

A man’s legendary half-life. (Recorded from memory.)

Initial setup:

Graduated from a second-tier university in 2006. Missed Fudan University by three points—actually scored nine above the cutoff—and ended up at some unknown second-tier college.

Family background: Father gambled, brother gambled, mother was just average, and savings were under 2,000 yuan.

So he applied to a military academy, ranked first, but failed the drug/alcohol test because he smoked. Needed 20,000 yuan to fix it; couldn’t pay, so he just scraped into another second-tier college.

After graduation:

Joined Haier for 4,000 yuan a month—not enough to live on, but he spent every penny treating his mentor to meals, drinks, and cigarettes. Learned CNC and other trades, earned seven engineering certificates, and passed them all.

Then his girlfriend’s family said the distance was too much; that ended. Ran to Dongguan. Second family also rejected him—he was seven years older (Dongguan-brand university grad, village chief’s household, total local tycoon). They wanted him to marry into their family; nope, blew up. Third wanted him to move in, demanded 100,000 yuan bride price, then hiked it by another 10,000. Refused to budge, quit his job, and bolted to Guangzhou. Fourth: introduced by a classmate, sat behind him in high school. Got married directly.

While in Guangzhou, landed a job at a foreign firm. Leveraged his certificates and technical skills to win over the production department manager. Dumped all his salary into dining, drinking, and gifting that manager. Six months later, after 14 years of grinding, the manager got promoted to department head—and took him along as supervisor. He ended up managing a workforce of 2,500 people, with a base monthly salary of 8,500 yuan.

During his tenure as supervisor, he handled equipment procurement. Reported old equipment accidents with a 5,000-yuan penalty per person, new equipment 1,800 yuan, old equipment 1,000 yuan. Spent an extra 800 yuan per machine to cut down production accidents. Siphoned off 800 yuan per machine through his own accounts. Procured 500 machines. Indeed, no more production accidents. Then the boss let slip about a plan to seize a certain product line. He quietly bought equipment, researched production at home, and made it work. But he never handed over the technology to the boss—stalled technical upgrades, claimed research funding (roughly three times his annual salary income). Only when he resigned to start his own business did he hand over the full tech package (mainly by withholding it from apprentices, using technology as leverage to cap output growth, maintain thin margins, and keep pouring money into “research”). Meanwhile, metal scraps from production were partnered with a cousin to resell—equivalent to two years’ salary income. Within two years at the foreign firm, gross earnings neared 1.5 million yuan.

He won over veteran workers with gifts, dining, opera tickets, help booking train tickets, and red envelopes for Chinese New Year. Used his technical knowledge to pressure the boss into firing five insubordinate veterans, clearing management obstacles. When the finance office blocked reimbursement approvals, he asked the veterans to staged a protest at the finance department. They got access. Forced a 5,000-yuan red envelope on the finance staff. Then reciprocated. Reimbursements went through smoothly. Typically over-reported by 20,000 yuan and slipped 5,000 back to finance.

Spotting profits in foreign trade, he quit when international shipping discounts of 20–30% and favorable exchange rates appeared. Made 2 million yuan in gross profit in one year. Goods were held by customs at one point; through that, he met customs officials. Invited them to meals, gave gifts, slowly worked his way up to higher-level contacts—even naval commanders, district party chiefs, bureau directors (some relationships formed organically: he and these figures met while fishing, having won championship and runner-up prizes in tournaments).

As foreign trade became fiercely competitive, even 5-cent margins drew participants—turning into a Pinduoduo-style race to the bottom. He promptly sold three established accounts (close friends knew his accounts carried his product lines) for 630,000 yuan. Caught another signal that things were souring; cut losses early. Pivoted to physical manufacturing, opened his own factory to produce goods for export.

In 2013, went through a major crisis: 8 million euros worth of cargo seized. Reason: a relationship network he’d been tipping 700,000 yuan annually got skipped that year. Given years of good relations, he thought they’d let it slide—wanted to keep the money for himself this time. Got burned. If he couldn’t resolve it, he’d be left owing 1.5 million yuan. Called friends for help, claiming a 10-million-dollar deal had a cash gap. Got three friends each to contribute 2 million yuan. Turned it around in two weeks at 5% interest. Actually spent about 2.5 million to grease the relationship network and get the cargo released (three times the original amount).

Nothing major happened after that.

The whole man is just an ordinary middle-aged uncle. Still used an iPhone 7 in 2023. Owns two apartments in a tier-one city. Keeps 20 cases of Moutai and 30 cases of Wuliangye at home—mainly for gifting. Never drives when he returns to his hometown. Greets everyone with a smile, says he isn’t making much money, smokes, sips liquor. Gives his father-in-law and his own parents 2,000 yuan openly during New Year, plus 5,000 yuan privately. Each wife’s family name is allotted 300,000 yuan.

During the pandemic, with more free time, he did some digging.

Allegedly:

For processing shipments, he shares 50–80% of profits outward (the entry fee keeps his floor at 15%—must always exceed competitors). Once stable, section chiefs get 20–30,000 yuan, bureau directors 100,000 yuan. Whether or not he ever needs them again, he spends about 10,000 yuan yearly on cordyceps gifts. Incense money must never stop—averaging 700,000 to 1 million yuan annually.

Key sayings:

Never touch business with margins below 15%. Why bother when you can do better by just throwing money at random investments?

Incense and favors (money) must keep flowing. You never know when your old connections might become useful again if circumstances change.

When borrowing or repaying, always include interest—at least 5%. Banks pay interest; so should you.

Lend money only with clear terms and collateral to prevent runners.

Don’t trust Northeasterners—especially the chest-pounding, loud-mouthed ones. Zhejiang people are decent at business.

Business is about first finding the right people. Money spent that way actually turns into business. Workplace petty favors versus grand openings and closings in trade.

When someone says something truly can’t’t be done—it really can’t. When they say they won’t take money—they still can’t do it. When they take money, there’s hope. When others say “let’s discuss” or “I’ll think about it”—it means the money offered wasn’t enough. Bite the bullet and add more. When they invite you to a relative’s wedding “just to say hi”—they’re signaling you should cover the venue, cigarettes, and alcohol. When they suggest a short face-to-face talk—expect it to wrap in an hour; seating arrangements budget 5,000–20,000 yuan. When someone says they can’t drink—expect one liang, which is really one jin. Better to overdo it than underdo it. If you get hit, stand tall. If you mess up, accept the penalty. Normally give double the usual礼, but triple it when errors happen.

Dinner tables run on cigarettes and liquor first. Cigarettes open all conversations; liquor blurs friend and foe lines.

Watch your words. Some things can only be discussed with no third parties present.

You have to brag, but always frame it as “maintaining a trend of small profits.” That way your network and partners see you as steady and worth continuing with.

Meat can’t be eaten alone. Only those who share meat can keep eating meat long-term.

Anyone at the edges can ruin your plans—so don’t neglect any relationship.

Mud can’t be plastered onto a wall. Gave his brother an international logistics venture in the new district—a steady 2-million-yuan-a-year business—but the brother complained it was too hard work. Took the 300,000 yuan startup capital he’d given him and squandered it elsewhere. Asked him to guard the factory against workers siphoning assets. Offered no salary for three years, then promised a house renovation plus a 50,000-yuan car after three years, plus 5% annual dividends. Brother refused—complained there was no regular salary.

Life is bitter. Bow your head to people. Make money on your knees.

PS:

Are professional skills important? During the COVID lockdown in 2022, he used his CNC expertise and senior engineer certificate to find temporary work nearby. Eight hours a day, but only needed three for debugging. Only worked longer if issues arose. Paid 480 yuan per day. Anything beyond eight hours counted as overtime—paid at triple rate. He even deliberately planted bugs to force overtime calls every half-month, fixing them for extra pay. That’s exactly why he stressed the importance of professional skills, and the saying “teach your apprentice and starve yourself.”

Don’t chase profits blindly. Watch the risks. If margins are too low and risk too high, walk away. If there’s no profit, definitely don’t touch it. (For him, anything below 15% margin with risk is off-limits. Risk-free deals can go lower, but never below bank interest rates. Even lending to friends carries 5% interest. Nowadays he insists on collateral too—after being scammed out of 800,000 yuan taught him to add that risk control measure.)