The two senior engineers watched Liu Jun correct the process and re-sign it before taking it and leaving. Liu Jun had been lectured like a schoolchild. But the two senior engineers were still uneasy and secretly called the supreme emperor Liu Shitang. Liu Shitang thought his son, being no longer young, was suffering from a hormonal imbalance and earnestly and tactfully advised his son that it was necessary to steal time from busy work to enjoy life, that he couldn’t throw himself wholeheartedly into work alone. Liu Jun hadn’t expected someone to report to his father, who was heading in the opposite direction, leaving him not knowing whether to laugh or cry at his father’s confusion. With so many people reminding him, Liu Jun realized he should arrange his time reasonably and not become too addicted to futures.
Liu Jun almost had to restrain his online time with his left hand, cutting his right hand. This process was painful, like quitting smoking several years ago—there was one nerve that simply wouldn’t obey his commands, wantonly and wickedly talking to itself. Moreover, Qian Hongming would call him with hot lines every few days, like someone forcibly stuffing a good cigarette into the hands of someone trying to quit smoking. Liu Jun often broke his abstinence because of this, opening his computer. Finally, even the young and timid accountant approached Liu Jun, telling him that this month’s office expenses were about to exceed the hard limit, asking whether several pending payments should be withdrawn. If not withdrawn, the excess portion would need to go through a separate financial signing procedure before being entered into the books.
The company’s finances all required Liu Jun’s sole signature. He considered himself consistently strict in gatekeeping, so how could there possibly be several overruns in one month? Somewhat suspicious, he had the finance department bring the account books and vouchers from the past three months for examination. Checking accounts were simple if you put it simply—just create a spreadsheet on the computer listing all expenses for one month, then list similar expenses for the next month in the same row. The comparison would be clear at a glance. Comparison revealed the most problems. Month by month, not only did expense categories increase, but individual expense amounts also increased monthly. Liu Jun increasingly felt the problem was serious—his gatekeeping seemed to have become looser and looser these past few months.
But during the account checking, Qian Hongming called to report today’s battle situation. When the two discussed leveraged funds in the hundreds of thousands and millions, Liu Jun looked back at the small expenses of tens, hundreds, and thousands on the vouchers and felt quite impatient. Considering the young accountant sitting across from him, whom he had kept for overtime, he could only continue reconciling accounts. When his mood gradually calmed, Liu Jun suddenly looked back in horror. Before and after Qian Hongming’s call, his mindset had developed serious problems. Manufacturing enterprise work required an extremely methodical, detailed, and patient mindset, while future operations were different. In the futures market, as capital was amplified by leverage, people’s greed and emotions were also amplified exponentially. Reality showed that Liu Jun clearly couldn’t switch skillfully between these two mindsets. This was the reason expenses had increased monthly over the past three months. Therefore, the problem he faced wasn’t reducing time focused on futures, but facing two choices: choosing to focus wholeheartedly on futures, or choosing to focus wholeheartedly on manufacturing enterprises.
When the myriad complexities were distilled into an either-or choice, Liu Jun didn’t hesitate. Even though he harbored great regret, he resolutely chose the manufacturing enterprise. He said to himself with self-mockery, “Ah, money isn’t the most important thing; life needs pursuits.”
After finishing the account check with finance, Liu Jun called Qian Hongming, telling him that starting today, he was withdrawing and would never look back. The reason was simple: if he continued speculating in futures, his company would collapse within three months. Only by cutting grass and removing roots could Liu Jun quit all addictions.
After sleeping through the night, Liu Jun looked back on those months of trading futures—it was truly like being possessed by demons, as if he had suddenly awakened. He was a follower of Adam Smith, always believing that only manufacturing created value and wealth, so he revered manufacturing and research as his faith. Yet in the past few months, he had devoted precious time to gambling-like so-called financial enterprises. During those months, he would open his computer first thing upon opening his eyes in the morning to check global market changes, and the last thing before closing his eyes at night was shutting down his computer. He had truly neglected Tengfei’s work. Liu Jun firmly believed that in these past few months, it wouldn’t be just office expenses that had problems—there must be more vouchers that had slipped through unnoticed.
What he needed to do first wasn’t mending the fold after sheep were lost, but wholeheartedly focusing on production and quality during work hours. Sure enough, as expected, random quality checks of finished goods inventory showed the qualification rate wasn’t one hundred percent. Some castings had visible sand holes but were passed off as finished products. The reason was nothing more than quality inspectors being lenient to avoid penalizing workshops’ defect rate bonuses. These past few days, he had discovered many problems at once, including product quality issues and management procedure issues. A stack of penalty notices was issued, and the laser printer alone operated for nearly half an hour.
But these were all closing the barn door after the horse had bolted. Liu Jun broke into a cold sweat thinking about a serious problem: during his period of demonic possession, who knows how many unqualified products had slipped through, and who knows how many defective products had reached customers’ hands. A small-scale manufacturing enterprise like his Tengfei, placed in vast China, was almost a drop in the ocean with virtually no advantages, basically surrounded by thorns on all sides. Tengfei’s survival depended solely on quality and high-end positioning, but now it seemed he had self-destructed his kingdom. Liu Jun was momentarily beside himself with worry—should he recall the products? If not recalling, should he send people to downstream customers for re-inspection? If the latter was done, it could almost destroy the one-hundred-percent quality reputation guarantee that he had built for Tengfei over two years. But if he sat waiting for defective products to be discovered, it would damage his reputation even more. What was the best course of action?
Meanwhile, Liu Jun used time outside of eight working hours to thoroughly investigate all vouchers from these past months. What made him tremble with fear was that several vouchers bore his signature, yet he had no memory of them. Undoubtedly, when he signed those vouchers, he was probably completely focused on the ups and downs of London copper and Shanghai copper. In such a mental state, how could the accounts not have problems? He discovered that several recent short-haul transportation fees to inland river docks were abnormally high. Since he traded copper futures, he naturally also paid attention to international oil prices. Given that oil prices hadn’t risen significantly recently, how could transportation fees possibly increase? Liu Jun called in the employee in charge of storage and transportation, instructing them either to negotiate lower prices or change transportation companies.
Soon, the employee reported back that Boss Fang of that transportation company claimed it was either the original price or break off relations. Liu Jun thought it was simple—break off, then break off. If Zhang the butcher died, they wouldn’t eat hairy pork. Little did he expect that the transportation market was both large and small, especially short-haul transportation to inland river docks, which was truly an iron plate. After breaking with Boss Fang, when contacting other transportation companies, they either declined upon hearing Tengfei’s name, or those unaware of the situation would take Tengfei’s goods to the inland river dock, only to be denied entry or be surrounded by people who appeared from nowhere, smashing their vehicles. After several days, Tengfei found itself in the embarrassing situation of being able to receive but not ship, with delivery work at a standstill.