Chapter Twenty-Two: The Fighter Jet in the Cell Phone

Zhao Zejun had given Elephant two weeks, but less than two days later, Elephant called him.

Coincidentally, that day marked the start of winter break.

The other two certificates sold for a total of 260,000; together with Elephant’s certificate at 130,000, that made 390,000.

At dinner, Elephant tried to slip Zhao Zejun a personal red envelope of 10,000, but Zhao Zejun politely declined.

In the end, the three certificates sold for a total of 400,000. Zhao Zejun had initially estimated that 300,000 would be satisfying, but thanks to a series of fortunate circumstances, he made an extra hundred thousand.

Such a large sum couldn’t possibly be handled in cash. He went to the People’s Bank at the entrance to his neighborhood and opened a bank card—the very first card of his life.

Once everything was settled, Elephant acted as the intermediary, and the transfer procedures for all three certificates were completed swiftly, with the money wired via bank transfer.

Though Zhao Zejun knew there’d be no issue with the transfer, he still found himself loitering before the ATM for over two hours, checking the balance every so often, to the point the security guards grew suspicious. Wherever Zhao Zejun went, two pairs of watchful eyes followed.

Only when the ATM screen clearly displayed a balance of 390,000 did Zhao Zejun finally breathe a long, deep sigh of relief, his heart settling back into place.

He left the bank, winter sunlight warm upon his face. Watching the hurried pedestrians and the endless tide of cars passing along the street, Zhao Zejun felt momentarily dazed.

Four hundred thousand—even in his previous life, during those years as vice president, it was no trifling sum. With salary and bonuses combined, it would take at least two years to earn that much.

And in early 2002, four hundred thousand was practically a lifetime’s income for a typical middle-class family—the sum total of their assets.

Reborn, he had spent just over four months, invested almost nothing, and without any foundation, earned this money!

Such efficiency at making money was unimaginable in his previous life!

What this brought him was not merely the four hundred thousand yuan, but a newfound confidence rooted in the advantage of foresight.

Reality proved that, with the aid of foreknowledge, a sound plan, and effective execution, the goals he could only dream of before were no longer out of reach in this life.

Just like that tango he danced the other day: only one step away.

He suddenly felt that the lifestyle he once yearned for—making a bit of money, living freely, idling away like a useless soul waiting for death—was ultimately meaningless, merely self-consolation and avoidance of the weak.

Having lived again, what was he truly pursuing?

Family? Love? Freedom? Career?

All of them, perhaps, yet none of them entirely.

…

As Jiang Xuan often joked, scholars have a tendency to overthink.

After pondering life’s philosophy for a while, Zhao Zejun quickly returned from these lofty thoughts to reality.

The purpose of earning money was to spend it; if you never loosen your purse, you’ll find it hard to earn more in the future.

He headed straight for the electronics market near the telecom building.

Time is money, information is wealth. In the era of information technology, communication tools are indispensable for maintaining relationships and acquiring news. Before mobile phones, pagers and home telephones seemed convenient enough, but Zhao Zejun, having come from 2016 and used mobile phones for more than a decade, found the current methods of communication unbearably inefficient.

Subsequent matters such as buying property and staying in touch with Jiang Xuan and other friends would be much easier with a mobile phone.

On the first floor of the electronics market, they sold computer parts; the second floor was for mobile phones. Passing by the first floor, Zhao Zejun paused briefly and inquired about prices at several computer counters.

The economy in 2002 was far behind that of 2016, but computers were much more expensive. An ordinary DIY machine cost five or six thousand, brand-name desktops and laptops went for over ten thousand, yet their specs were abysmal.

After considering a moment, he decided not to buy a computer for now. What he needed to do next hardly relied on computers or the internet. If he bought one, connected to the web, and downloaded a couple of games, who knew how much time he’d waste online? With the college entrance exam looming at the end of his final year of high school and the need to buy a house, time was precious.

Having looked at computers, he went straight upstairs. On weekends, the second floor was crowded, dozens of retailers, each counter thronged with customers.

Zhao Zejun chose a counter with fewer people.

Salespeople excelled at sizing up customers; with a single glance, she estimated Zhao Zejun’s purchasing power and, before he could speak, began her pitch: “Hello, the Motorola V2 and Nokia 5110 are both classic models, great sales, affordable prices, both under a thousand. The V2 even supports internet access.”

Zhao Zejun shook his head; in those days, internet on a phone was a joke, utterly pointless.

Seeing his student attire, the saleswoman thought for a moment and said, “If you’d like to support domestic brands, you could choose the Panda GM or the Bird S10. The Bird is a bit pricier, promo price is 1,388…”

Hearing the name Bird, Zhao Zejun felt a strange sense of familiarity.

“A fighter jet among mobile phones?!” he blurted out instinctively.

The saleswoman paused, then burst out laughing: “You’re really witty! That line is classic.”

From her reaction, Zhao Zejun suddenly realized he’d spoiled the future! Most likely, Bird hadn’t yet launched its massive ad campaign, and that famous catchphrase hadn’t even appeared.

Fortunately, a single advertising slogan wouldn’t cause much trouble. Zhao Zejun silently reminded himself to pay more attention in the future and not let enthusiasm get the better of him.

“I want this Nokia 8250,” he said, unwilling to linger on the topic, pointing to a Nokia model in the display.

The Nokia 8250, commonly known as the ‘Nokia Blue Screen.’

One of the most iconic models in the Nokia family, even after smartphones became widespread, this phone still had a substantial market. Its sturdy quality, simple operation, excellent water and shock resistance, and affordable price made it synonymous with phones for the elderly and students.

Before his rebirth, two senior colleagues at the company still used this phone.

It also featured a classic game: Snake. In his previous life, his first phone in college was this model; he often lay in bed, competing for high scores. Once, after dropping it in a bucket of water while doing laundry, he dried it in the sun for two days, then turned it on and continued using it.

His requirements for a phone were threefold: stable signal, durability, and simplicity. This model fit them all.

“You have great taste. This is the upgraded version, supports full Chinese input, a classic Nokia model,” the saleswoman said, a bit surprised, then continued, “But the price is high. The lowest we can go is 2,060 yuan; any less and we’d be selling at a loss.”

“I haven’t even haggled with you,” Zhao Zejun chuckled. “That’ll do. Do you have it in stock?”

Having sold a phone for over two thousand with just a few words, the saleswoman was in high spirits. “We do, we do! Will you be paying cash or by card? We have a card machine—it’s very convenient,” she said, producing a POS terminal as large as a printer.

Zhao Zejun had chosen this shop precisely because it displayed the UnionPay logo, allowing card payments; he certainly wasn’t about to carry a large sum of cash everywhere.

“I’ll settle everything together.”

He pointed at the display models. “Give me four of this Nokia, and one of the latest Motorola V60. All in stock. Calculate the total and give me your best price. If it works, I’ll buy here; if not, I’ll ask elsewhere.”