Chapter 127: Only Adults Make Choices—I’ll Take All the Women (Please Subscribe in Full)

Take a look first!

Since they were already there, there was no harm in looking; it didn’t cost a cent.

But at a glance, Cheng Xuemin was incredibly satisfied with the apartment. It was essentially what commercial housing would look like decades later, and the conditions were exceptional. He was sold on it.

Feng Jiayou felt the same. Her already large eyes were practically sparkling! It was clear she liked this place even more than he did.

And why wouldn’t she? These were among the first commercial properties in the country, with interior layouts and decor styles modeled entirely after developed nations. Rumor had it that it was a blend of romantic French aesthetics and our own classic luxury—a true East-meets-West fusion. The place was so extravagant and beautiful that Feng Jiayou couldn’t bring herself to move.

"It’s... alright," Feng Jiayou finally took a deep breath and said. "It does look alright, but it’s too small. Our family probably wouldn't fit."

"Xuemin, Old Ge, let’s go check out that courtyard house instead!"

Even though she loved it, the asking price of 8,000 in Foreign Exchange Certificates was not something they dared to dream of affording. No matter how much they liked it, it was out of reach. She figured they should go see that other courtyard house nearby, which was also quite nice.

"You don't like it?" Cheng Xuemin asked her in a low voice. He hadn't missed the look in her eyes earlier.

"What’s the point of liking it? If it were 8,000 in local currency, we might be able to haggle, but 8,000 in Foreign Exchange Certificates... we wouldn't even dare to imagine it!" Feng Jiayou whispered back, then urged him, "Let’s go, let’s go!"

The more she looked, the more she liked it, and she didn't dare linger. The more she saw, the greater the sense of disappointment would be. It was better to leave.

"I’m going to talk to the owner one more time." Knowing his wife was so smitten she could barely move, despite her feigned indifference, Cheng Xuemin felt it was worth a shot.

"Ms. He, is it absolutely necessary to pay in Foreign Exchange Certificates? You know the situation in our country—how could an ordinary family possibly have that many?"

"How about we calculate it in Renminbi and cover the exchange rate difference? Would that work?"

The official exchange rate for the US dollar to the Renminbi was around two to three yuan, so 8,000 in certificates would be over 20,000 yuan. If she agreed to settle in local currency, once the ice was broken, they could negotiate the price further.

"No! I must have Foreign Exchange Certificates, or I won't sell!"

Ms. He shook her head firmly. She desperately needed the certificates; local currency was useless to her since she already had plenty of it. She knew it was hard for ordinary people to get their hands on so many, but that was just how it was.

"This... if I may ask, do you have an urgent need for so many certificates?" Cheng Xuemin’s head ached. She was completely uncompromising.

"That is none of your business. I only want Foreign Exchange Certificates!" the second-generation overseas Chinese said coldly, leaving no room for discussion.

"In that case, I can only wish Ms. He the best of luck." Seeing it was a dead end, Cheng Xuemin shook his head. This house was impossible. He turned to Ge You and said, "Old Ge, take us to see that courtyard house."

"You got it!" Ge You nodded repeatedly. "Old Cheng, this place is just... whatever. And it’s obscenely expensive! 8,000 in certificates? I wouldn't even pay 8,000 in Renminbi for this!"

"With 8,000 Renminbi, I could buy two double-courtyard houses further ahead! Let’s go, let’s go. There’s a nice double-courtyard house right up ahead. The owner is in a rush to sell, so the price won’t be too high!"

Just as Ge You said, he wouldn't dream of paying 8,000 in certificates—or even 8,000 in cash.

Seeing the deal fall through, Feng Jiayou felt a bit disappointed. She shouldn't have listened to Old Ge about "taking a look since they were already there." It didn't cost money, but it certainly cost her peace of mind.

"Old Cheng, I still think that courtyard house is a better fit for you two. This overseas Chinese lady is just stubborn—she only recognizes the certificates!" On the way out, Ge You kept complaining. "And what’s the point? They’re just vouchers, not real greenbacks. You can't even exchange them for actual US dollars. Why does she want them so badly?"

As Ge You pointed out, the certificates were a special type of voucher, not actual foreign currency, and they were one-way. They were forced conversions for incoming foreign exchange. Ordinary people could apply to exchange them at banks or post offices, but the amounts were negligible. While you could convert certificates back into Renminbi, you couldn't convert them back into hard currency.

In this era, to attract foreign capital for national construction, the state prohibited citizens from holding actual foreign cash; it was essentially forcibly settled into certificates. This was why Ge You was skeptical—what was that woman planning to do with them? Could she somehow turn them back into dollars and smuggle them out?

"People have their own reasons. Maybe she has a way to turn those certificates into real money," Cheng Xuemin replied calmly. Nothing was absolute, and every system had loopholes. Besides, she was a second-generation overseas Chinese and received preferential treatment.

***

Of course, this had nothing to do with Cheng Xuemin. Since the owner only accepted certificates, the 8,000-unit price was truly beyond their reach.

Ge You led them to the courtyard house in the nearby hutong. It was a double-courtyard style, similar to the one Old Qian lived in. It was well-maintained, clean, and spacious—far better than the cramped, chaotic shared housing they had seen earlier. Cheng Xuemin even felt it was better than the place they were currently renting.

When asked about the price, the owner, who was in a rush for cash, asked for 6,500 Renminbi.

For a double-courtyard house, 6,500 was not expensive. Even the single-courtyard shared houses, which were dirty and dilapidated, were fetching 4,000. The market was generally 3,000 to 4,000, with unscrupulous sellers asking for 5,000. Double-courtyard houses usually went for 6,000 to 8,000. Old Qian’s house had cost him 8,000 in royalties years ago, and since prices in Beijing had remained stagnant for over a decade, that was the going rate. At 6,500, the owner was clearly eager to sell; if Cheng Xuemin haggled, he might get it for 5,000.

Cheng Xuemin noted the house backed onto a tributary of the Yongding River, with a garden nearby—good feng shui. His main concern was having a private bathroom. He didn't want to dump chamber pots in the morning or brave public toilets in the heat, but he realized he could easily install one himself. He could dig a septic tank in the back and pipe the shower water into the stream. As for a flush toilet, he had 100 in Foreign Exchange Certificates—he could buy one at the Overseas Chinese Store.

He could even rig up a hot water system. It wouldn't be as hard as it seemed.

Buying a courtyard house with better value for money was much smarter than chasing that overseas apartment. He decided: this was the one. It was also close to Yanda University—a fifteen-minute bike ride.

However, Feng Jiayou seemed indifferent. Having seen the "better" apartment, everything else felt lackluster. Cheng Xuemin kept this in mind and decided to head home.

By the time they returned, it was dark. Feng’s mother was humming in the kitchen, clearly in a good mood; the latest issue of *October* had sold well. At dinner, it was confirmed: they had broken sales records, trailing only *People's Literature*. The heat surrounding the atomic bomb article hadn't faded. Unfortunately, none of that success brought a penny to Cheng Xuemin, the original author.

"Xuemin, are you thinking of submitting work to foreign publications?" After dinner, while chatting in the courtyard, Cheng Xuemin asked his father-in-law a bold question.

Feng Jiayou loved that overseas apartment, but the owner only wanted foreign certificates. A normal person couldn't get them, but Cheng Xuemin was a writer. He had a lifetime of classics in his head. If he could use his father-in-law’s connections to reach foreign magazines, he could earn real foreign currency. Even if he only received the certificates, he would be contributing to the nation's foreign exchange earnings.

If he could publish something like *Harry Potter*, he could generate millions in foreign currency. It was the perfect time—the book was written in the 80s, so it wouldn't feel out of place for Western readers.

"Dad, I have an idea," Cheng Xuemin said, nodding. He explained that he and Jiayou had seen an apartment, but the owner insisted on foreign certificates.

"An overseas apartment? Those aren't cheap. Why were you looking there?" his father-in-law asked, surprised. He remembered when those apartments were built; his wife had loved them, having grown up in similar Western-style homes. But they were strictly for returning overseas Chinese and cost tens of thousands of dollars—a pipe dream for intellectuals like them. He hadn't expected his daughter and son-in-law to go looking there now.

"The owner wants 8,000 in certificates. If we haggle, we might get it for 6,000 or 7,000," Cheng Xuemin explained. "I want to write for foreign journals to earn that foreign exchange. Isn't that a contribution to the country?"

"The channels for foreign submission are very tight," his father-in-law warned. "But if you're serious, go see Old Zhou at the Foreign Affairs Office tomorrow. He deals with foreign journals often. If you have a manuscript, he can introduce you to the foreign journalists staying at the Guest House."

"Thanks, Dad!" Cheng Xuemin nodded. He added, "Please, don't tell Jiayou or Mom yet. If I can pull this off, I want it to be a surprise."

"I'll keep it quiet," his father-in-law agreed. "But don't get your hopes up. You'll need a top-tier translator. You can't just hand them a Chinese manuscript."

Cheng Xuemin smiled. "My English is actually not bad, Dad. I'll give it a try."

With a plan in place, Cheng Xuemin was energized. The next day, he coordinated with the Foreign Language Bureau and contacted Old Zhou. He began to work.

Feng Jiayou remained restless, but a few nights later, she agreed to buy the courtyard house. She wanted to stop thinking about the impossible apartment, so she decided to commit to the house and finally put the dream of the overseas apartment to rest.