My Stall Is More Profitable Than a State-Owned Factory

After taking his last breath in the cell, he opened his eyes and became a poor student in 1980. My deskmate is Bai Yueguang, whom I missed in my previous life, and my enemy is the Jiangcheng plutocrat who has yet to make a fortune. He only had two yuan and thirty cents in his pocket, so he rented the most remote stall in the market. Everyone laughed at his wishful thinking. It wasn't until his daily turnover was worth half a year's salary to the workers, and it wasn't until the director of the state-owned factory came to ask him if he wanted to supply goods that they discovered that the man squatting on the ground selling hairpins had forty years of development in his hands. When Li Kailun crushed his shoes, he smiled and wrote down the account. When Zhao Zhengyun seized his goods, he flipped through the regulations and found the loopholes. When Zou Honggang asked him to get out of the building materials track, he said: "The trend belongs to the times, not to you personally." In this life, he will send in one by one the people who owed him their lives in the previous life. Then he kept the girl standing under the sycamore tree close to his side.