Xu Qiguang was the type to see his target, make his move, grab his things, and leave. His daughter, Xu Changqing, was much the same—not one for wasting words.
Just like now. She wouldn't have objected to not going in, but once they did, she wouldn't stop him. She certainly wouldn't nag about what they should or shouldn't buy. All she had to do was listen and follow her old man.
'In my humble opinion,' she thought, 'we can't let Dad lose face in public. If we're going to pinch pennies, we have to do it in private. Might as well just buy it. If we get too much, can't we just sell it back in the village?'
One time, her dad's work unit had given out benefits, and she'd flipped all the bars of soap at the village threshing ground. It hadn't even taken an hour—the women, young and old, had swarmed her, and just like that, they were gone.
