Choose the Great Emperor

　　On June 10, 1992, just as dawn was breaking, my wife woke me up: "Honey! Today is definitely a great day to head out—get up quickly and have breakfast. I’ve already packed your luggage for you..." After finishing our morning meal, I boarded the long-distance bus bound for Chengdu, which was parked by the nearby highway. After several hours of bumpy travel, I finally arrived at Chengdu—the historic and culturally renowned city I’d longed to visit.

　　After arriving in Chengdu, I immediately boarded the city’s No. 3 tram and reached No. 90 Shangdong Avenue (the former home of General Li) half an hour later. After lunch, Liu Xiaohong—General Li’s classmate—said, “Xiao Zhang, I’ll take you to the factory by bike right now.” I followed closely behind her, carefully watching the route ahead, yet keeping my eyes straight ahead instead of looking around, since this was my first time cycling through such a bustling urban area. Wobbling slightly, I navigated through several busy streets and narrow alleys until we finally arrived at the small courtyard behind the Ma’anshan Martyrs’ Cemetery. There, Liu Xiaohong stopped and pointed out, “This is our factory—and also where you’ll be working from tomorrow.”

　　Stopping the car and looking up, I was stunned—was this really the factory that had been introduced to me earlier? I could hardly believe it was real; it was nothing like any factory I’d ever seen before. It was a simple brick-and-wood structure topped with fibreglass tiles, and right in front of the entrance lay a narrow, poorly maintained drainage ditch. Under the scorching summer sun, the ditch occasionally emitted waves of nauseating, foul-smelling odors. Around the area, all I could see were countless dilapidated fibreglass-tile houses—no trees offered even the slightest shade from the relentless sunlight, and not even weeds seemed to thrive here.

　　After unloading my luggage from the bicycle, I approached the "factory building" and took a closer look—both the production workshop and the living space together totaled less than 20 square meters. Inside the "production workshop," which was further divided into three smaller rooms, there was a large wooden board placed beneath the window on the left side as you entered, while a three-drawer desk stood on the right. Stepping further in, the small room on the left served as the raw-material storage area, and the one on the right housed the machinery room, where an old, rust-stained [Model 50] dough mixer stood ready—this place had once been a factory dedicated to baking bread production.

　　At that time, the main production materials were as follows: equipment included a [Model 50] dough mixer, hook scales, plastic basins, rice paddles, shovels, bamboo sieves, and brooms. As for raw materials, there were fewer than 10 varieties, with each item held in very limited stock—no more than 50 kilograms per item. The kitchen and dormitory were combined into one space, located right next to the factory building. It was essentially a makeshift structure built under the eaves of the neighbor’s warehouse (a ceramics business), measuring roughly 5 square meters.

　　That night, the stench lingering from the scorching daytime sun hadn’t yet dissipated, and swarms of mosquitoes seemed determined to provoke me with their relentless buzzing. Add to that the chaotic, jumbled noises drifting in from nearby—somehow amplifying my restlessness—and there I lay alone on an unfamiliar bed, enduring it all through the long, sleepless hours. In the endless darkness of the night, my mind wandered endlessly: I’d left home and family behind, coming here solely to earn money and provide for my loved ones. Yet I carried the heavy burden of supporting my household—especially now, when my wife was still battling illness in the hospital, her medical bills unpaid despite the mounting debt. Even worse, her recovery wasn’t complete; she’d need more treatment during her crucial rehabilitation period. And then there was our 8-year-old child, already enrolled in elementary school—but next semester’s tuition? That remained uncertain, leaving us once again teetering on the edge of financial instability.

　　I thought to myself, how long could a factory like this possibly last—and would it ever fulfill my dreams? As night deepened and everything around grew eerily quiet, I tossed and turned countless times in bed, drifting off into sleep sometime during the late hours. In my dream, I heard my wife’s raspy voice gently asking me, “Honey, was your day smooth sailing?” But just then, I was jolted awake by the lively calls of street vendors in the alleyway and the rhythmic clanging of scrap metal being hammered next door…

　　That evening, after finishing dinner, I was flipping through a copy of *Reader* magazine when the sound of light footsteps—ting-tang, ting-tang—grew steadily closer along with the night breeze. Soon, a young couple in simple attire appeared before me, carrying cooking utensils and everyday essentials. "Xiao Zhang," they said warmly, "Have you had dinner yet? We came to visit you—and happened to bring along some daily necessities for you as well." Instantly, I looked up, only to realize that it was none other than Chairman Yu and General Manager Li, now both key figures in our company.

　　I was wondering to myself, "Do they have something important to discuss since they’ve come here so late?" "Xiao Zhang, how’s your parents doing? How old is your child, and what grade is he/she in—hopefully doing well, right?" Just as I was about to reply to Boss Yu’s question, Boss Li quickly followed up: "Is your mother-in-law still in good health? And has your wife fully recovered from her illness?" Hearing these words, I realized that the word "grateful" alone couldn’t possibly capture the depth of my emotions at that moment. So I simply said, "Thank you both for your kind concern. My wife’s condition has improved significantly, and everyone at home is doing just fine."

　　Boss Yu asked again, "Are you still getting used to life and the surroundings here? Do you want to keep working here?" His question really caught me off guard. Seeing that I hesitated before replying, Boss Li said, "Don't worry, Xiao Zhang—this situation is only temporary. As long as you're determined to work hard here, trust us: we won't treat you unfairly." At the moment, I didn’t have much to say, so I simply replied, "Alright, thanks for your trust!" As they were leaving, they even handed me 20 yuan, telling me to go buy a stove to cook with honeycomb briquettes—it’d make things a lot more convenient.

　　One Sunday morning, Boss Li asked me to come over to her home to help with some tasks. Unintentionally, I noticed a small room outside their living quarters, filled with numerous samples of various sizes—some packed in glass bottles, others wrapped in plastic bags. Drawing on my recent experience from the factory, where I’d been exposed to fragrance ingredients for a few days, I felt both drawn to and intrigued by the scents. Without hesitation, I opened up every bottle and bagged sample, taking the time to carefully sniff each one. To my surprise, several of the samples emitted aromas that closely matched those produced at the factory. It was then that I realized Boss Yu had also turned his home into a makeshift "laboratory." Boss Yu approaches his work with unwavering dedication, radiating confidence about the future—and embodying the spirit of "He who has never scaled the Great Wall is no true hero." Before launching any new product, he meticulously conducts countless trials to ensure perfection. Even during mass production, he leaves nothing to chance, overseeing every step with exacting precision. On one occasion, while we were loading goods onto the truck, we discovered a batch with quality issues. Upon learning about it, Boss Yu immediately insisted that all defective items be reworked until they met his rigorous standards—no exceptions. Despite tight deadlines and limited manpower, he rallied the team and kept us working tirelessly well into the night until the problem was resolved.

　　Through the above-mentioned examples, I subtly sensed that this boss and I were destined for each other—and that this company was worth pursuing. Today, twenty years later, my initial decision has been proven absolutely correct.