Chapter Eight: The Grim News
In the pitch-black night, Chen Guangliang lay on a hard wooden bed, lost in thought.
After a month of perseverance, he had finally earned his “first pot of gold.” Besides relying on his own abilities, luck had also played a part.
Every tycoon’s first fortune came in various forms. The “Northern Jiangsu Magnate” Gu Zhuxuan’s first earnings came from working as a patrol officer, gaining both money and connections. The “Taxi King” Zhou Xiangsheng’s initial fortune was a windfall—he had unexpectedly come into a sum of money.
Chen Guangliang’s first pot of gold, however, came as “support” from a university professor: a full 200 silver dollars!
Chen Guangliang’s plan was to first invest 100 silver dollars to launch a joint-stock venture involving two rickshaws. Once those two were up and running, he would recruit shareholders for two more rickshaws, building his fleet to four vehicles—a respectable start.
With these four rickshaws in operation, Chen Guangliang firmly believed he would soon rise into the middle class of Shanghai.
Clutching the fifty-plus silver dollars he had left, filled with hope, Chen drifted into sleep.
…
The next morning.
Chen Guangliang and Yang Qingshan went to the Wang residence to ask Wang Chengyun for the refund of their deposit, stating they no longer wished to continue.
“What’s gotten into you two nephews today? Just like that, you want to quit?” Wang Chengyun exclaimed.
Yang Qingshan smiled ingratiatingly. “Boss Wang, it’s just that we’ve gathered some money and plan to buy a rickshaw ourselves.”
At this, many of the rickshaw pullers looked on with envy.
Wang Chengyun, instead of getting angry, laughed. “You two nephews are thinking too simply. Don’t you know that since 1924, the Public Works Bureau stopped issuing new rickshaw licenses? Across the entire concession, there are only the original ten thousand public rickshaw licenses issued back then. You can’t get new licenses—what good is buying a rickshaw without one?”
Chen Guangliang and Yang Qingshan were stunned!
This was even tougher than Xiangzi’s start; the licenses were already fixed in the hands of certain companies, leaving the pullers no chance for advancement.
Seeing their silence, Wang Chengyun added, “Here’s another piece of news: each license is worth at least 200 silver dollars nowadays, and you’d have to find someone willing to sell. So, are you still quitting?”
Seeing Wang’s smug expression, Chen Guangliang felt as if he had swallowed a fly.
Yang Qingshan immediately despaired, “I’ll keep working with Boss Wang!”
He gave Chen a sharp look, but Chen remained resolute. “I’m done. This line of work is too harsh. I plan to change careers.”
Wang Chengyun didn’t press further; he wasn’t short of workers and promptly returned Chen’s deposit.
“Qingshan, your nephew acts too hastily. Just a month here and already dreaming of big money.”
“Yes, young people are impetuous. I won’t bother with him anymore.”
“Hmm, he’s just a nephew; no need to worry too much.”
Yang Qingshan pulled the rickshaw outside and caught up with Chen, who was waiting nearby.
“Guangliang, you were too impulsive. Even if you have that money, you can’t just burn through it!”
Chen Guangliang was not discouraged. After all, he still had 216 silver dollars—his “first pot of gold.”
…
“Second uncle, you keep working with Boss Wang. I’ll go gather some information first. If I really can’t get a license, I’d rather run an unlicensed rickshaw.”
“That’s risky—you’ll be fined if caught!”
“A rickshaw costs nearly thirty silver dollars a month to rent—about a hundred days’ rent could buy a new one outright. It’s worth the gamble.”
He had been running a rickshaw for a month without encountering inspections; there was clearly a loophole.
“Alright, you try your best. I’ll keep working for Boss Wang.”
“Okay… Second uncle, remember not to leak any information, especially don’t let Boss Wang know.”
“Got it.”
…
Chen Guangliang spent five silver dollars on a decent Zhongshan suit and six dimes on a pair of double-layered cloth shoes.
Once fully dressed, he looked more presentable—not wealthy, but at least like an ordinary citizen.
He then went to the Public Concession’s Public Works Department, Traffic Division, to inquire about the situation.
The Public Works Department was the concession’s governing body, led by a board of nine directors who held supreme authority.
Previously, all nine directors were foreigners, but this year they planned to add three Chinese directors.
Thus, gang boss Du Yuesheng and others hoped eagerly to be elected—a pinnacle of Chinese success in the concession.
“Who are you looking for?”
As soon as he entered the Traffic Division, a Chinese staff member called out.
“I’m looking for the division head to discuss some matters.”
The staff member sized up Chen and bluntly said, “Do you have an appointment? And can you speak English if you want to see the head?”
Obviously, the division head was a foreigner.
“I speak a little English.”
“What are you doing here?”
“License plate.”
...
“Your English won’t help with the division head—you can’t communicate… By the way, what license are you applying for?”
The staff member immediately realized Chen only knew a few words.
Chen did not blush but honestly said, “I want to inquire about rickshaw licenses.”
“Come with me.”
The staff member was fairly friendly, perhaps impressed by Chen’s Zhongshan suit and modest English.
…
The staff member introduced himself as Li Chao, an employee in the Traffic Division.
“The public rickshaw licenses were issued in 1924, fixed at 10,000 total. Licenses have an expiration, and some are reclaimed periodically, but no new licenses are issued.”
Wang Chengyun had not lied; things were truly bleak.
But Chen caught a subtle hint and asked, “Is it possible to buy licenses from you, perhaps at a higher price?”
Seeing Chen’s cleverness, Li Chao asked, “Which rickshaw company are you with?”
Chen said, “I want to start this business—to run a rickshaw company.”
Li Chao nodded without suspicion. “Across the concession, including the French Concession, there are over a hundred companies competing for fewer than ten thousand licenses. Since you’re interested, I’ll tell you a channel: we do have some licenses here, but they cost 150 silver dollars each.”
Clearly, this was an internal privilege of the Traffic Division.
Outside, licenses sold for 200 silver dollars; here, only 150—an opportunity.
“Can the license be registered under my name?”
“Yes. Licenses bought from other companies can’t be registered, but those bought here are legal.”
In other words, rickshaw licenses were non-transferable.
Transfers between companies were just written agreements, akin to modern-day “housing arrangements.”
“Mr. Li, why are you willing to help me?”
Chen suddenly asked.
The question was natural—if licenses outside sold for around 200 silver dollars and only 150 here, Traffic Division staff could collude with bigger companies.
Li Chao admired Chen’s insight and said calmly, “The higher-ups don’t want any company to monopolize the market. Plus, we’re young; I prefer selling directly to you. Of course, I don’t have much power; only a few licenses are at my discretion.”
It wasn’t a huge favor; selling to other companies would be the same price. Chen had simply made a good impression.
Chen knew that when luck came, one had to seize it.
So he was not content with just buying one or two licenses from Li Chao; he had other plans.
“Mr. Li, would you be interested in partnering up? The rickshaw business is profitable, and these licenses have good potential to appreciate…”
Li Chao was surprised. The young man before him was shrewd. Lowering his voice, he asked, “How much capital do you have?”
“How about dinner tonight? My treat. We can talk it over.”
“Alright.”
Chen felt excited inside, though he remained composed.
Li Chao, as a Traffic Division insider, was a valuable contact. Partnering with him would be a great boon.
Of course, other companies wouldn’t partner with Li Chao—they wouldn’t want to share their profits, and Li didn’t seem to hold much power.
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