Chapter Seventy-Three: Visions of the Future

The shop owner helped Shen Guodong unload half of the appliances at Zhou Meiniang’s rented place; the other half were taken to Shen Guodong’s own home. Seeing this, the owner couldn’t help but give him a thumbs up.

A real pro! Here was a man who kept the flag flying high at home while colorful banners fluttered outside. And Zhou Meiniang herself was nothing short of alluring—her entire being exuded a seductive charm. No one was a fool; anyone could see there was something between the two of them. This was every man’s ultimate dream.

In the countryside, people often said a wife shouldn’t be too pretty, or you’d always be worried about her when you’re away. After all, a wife is for living your daily life. If you want someone beautiful, that’s what lovers are for. And to see if a man is truly capable, just look at his lovers. If he has many, and they’re beautiful too, then even if he’s not wealthy, he surely has ability.

After unloading the appliances, Shen Guodong fussed with them a bit, tested how they worked, and was quite satisfied. He locked up his house and then rode his bicycle—an old “Twenty-Eight”—over to Zhou Meiniang’s place.

“So, do you like it?” he asked.

The television was on, though it was just playing commercials, but Zhou Meiniang was thoroughly engrossed. A commercial for Xiali cars was running on the screen. It was terribly outdated, lacking any real marketing flair—but you had to admit, the product itself stood out. Any potential customer who saw such an ad would be tempted to buy. In these days, cars were still a luxury. The price wasn’t much different from what it would be in later years; a single car could cost over a hundred thousand yuan. For ordinary people, or even many of the wealthy, buying a car took real consideration.

This wasn’t something just anyone could afford!

Zhou Meiniang was watching intently. When she heard Shen Guodong’s words, she rushed into his arms, planted a big kiss on him, and exclaimed, “Oh yes, I think this TV is amazing! It actually has color! I must say, technology has changed so much!”

Shen Guodong smiled. Indeed! Especially when it came to electronics, the pace of innovation was staggering. This color TV may seem cutting-edge now, but it wouldn’t be long before flat-screen LCDs arrived—sleek and lightweight. Then would come the smart era, when you could cast shows from your phone onto the TV.

There was a typical story from later years. When the legendary Mango Phone first appeared, many people spent over ten thousand yuan to get one; some young people even went so far as to sell a kidney to buy such a device. Yet only a few years later, the Mango Phone that had cost them so dearly was obsolete, and its price had plummeted. In just a decade, the Mango 4 had evolved to the Mango 12. The phone once worshipped as a miracle was eventually something people wouldn’t even want as a gift—it just took up space.

Zhou Meiniang sat in the living room watching television, marveling at this novel device. For a while, she paid so much attention to the TV that even Shen Guodong felt a bit neglected.

He himself wasn’t particularly interested in the television. Instead, his mind was occupied with other thoughts: if his current plan succeeded, what would his next step be?

In these times, opportunities were everywhere—gold scattered across the land. But whatever you did, you needed connections and capital. That was an unchanging rule.

Canned goods, for instance. Or starting a beverage factory—both were promising options. With limited transportation, much of the fruit went bad before it could be sold. Its shelf life was so short that selling fruit was a risky business. That gave rise to countless canneries, which not only preserved fruit with a short lifespan but also let people who couldn’t normally afford fresh fruit get a taste.

So canned goods were extremely popular at this time!

As for beverages, there were very few varieties, and the taste left much to be desired. The most popular was Arctic Ocean soda, but compared to Coca-Cola or Pepsi, it was no contest.

If Shen Guodong could get into the beverage business, with his experience he could easily take the market by storm. Take, for example, Zong Qinghou in the south—if memory served, he founded Wahaha Beverage Factory in the late 1980s to early 1990s, and with that company, he held the position of China’s richest man for decades.

If Shen Guodong could replicate that success, there was no telling how far he could go.

There was also Kangshuaifu Foods. Shen Guodong knew very well that at its peak, Kangshuaifu was valued in the hundreds of billions, thanks to its dominance in the beverage market.

Kangshuaifu’s iced tea became so synonymous with the drink that no matter how other companies tried to break into the iced tea market, they could never shake its supremacy. Then there was Wang Duobao herbal tea, which also stood out in the industry, with annual sales in the tens of billions. Later came Red Bull and a host of other drinks, all vying for attention in a flourishing market.

Shen Guodong was full of ideas. It just so happened that Yuan Junfeng’s family owned a large plot of land—perfect for building a factory.

Of course, all of this depended on whether his current plans went smoothly; only then could the rest of the story unfold. If things didn’t work out, it was all just empty talk.

“Why are you just watching commercials?” Shen Guodong asked, amused to see Zhou Meiniang staring at the screen.

“You can change the channel during commercials,” he explained.

“Oh, you can do that? But never mind, that car looks nice, and the commercials aren’t so bad.” Zhou Meiniang shook her head, her eyes glued to the screen.

There weren’t nearly as many TV channels as there would be in the future; the industry was still in its infancy. Domestic dramas, whether in terms of production or other aspects, couldn’t compare to what would come later. Most shows were imported from Hong Kong.

Right now, the Hong Kong film and television scene was in its golden age, with new stars emerging constantly. The rivalry between Alan Tam and Leslie Cheung was at its peak. The four Heavenly Kings were just debuting, entering their most glorious decade.

But after these ten years, Hong Kong’s entertainment industry would gradually decline, while the mainland’s would flourish, with astronomical salaries and stars from all over flocking to cash in.

Some fanatical fans would do anything for their idols.

If Shen Guodong could seize these opportunities, it would certainly be a new chapter for him.