Chapter 38 – The Glue Board

Chapter 38 – The Glue Board

As they headed downstairs, Zhao Liming asked, "Brother Dong, where are we going?"

"The hardware market," Yang Wendong replied.

In the 1950s, Hong Kong's industrial sector was booming, especially in fields like plastics, textiles, and basic metalworking. And with the rise of industry came the growth of hardware stores.

Even in Tsim Sha Tsui, a relatively developed area, there were clusters of hardware markets servicing nearby factories.

Yang scouted the area and picked out a store that seemed decently sized. As he stepped in, he noticed there weren't any other customers at the moment.

"Boss, do you sell glue?" he asked.

"Glue? Of course!" replied the shopkeeper, a balding man in his forties. His eyes lit up as he saw a potential customer.

"What kind are you looking for? Pressure-sensitive? Instant adhesive? White glue? Silicone caulk?"

"…?" Yang was momentarily stunned by the flood of technical terms. He hadn't expected such variety. After a pause, he said, "I'm looking for something that—"

Before he could finish his sentence, a group of uniformed policemen stepped into the store.

The cheerful look on the shopkeeper's face vanished instantly. He turned to Yang and said quietly, "Sir, feel free to browse for now. I'll be back in a moment."

"Alright," Yang nodded, glad for the extra time to study the products on display.

"Ah, Sir!" The shopkeeper immediately switched to a grin as he stepped over to greet the officers.

"Ah Long," said the leading officer, puffing on a cigarette. He patted the shopkeeper's shoulder casually. "Business seems good. Every time I stop by, you've got customers."

"Just small business, Ah Sir. Nothing much," the shopkeeper replied humbly.

"Small business?" the officer smirked. "Heard you just upgraded your apartment?"

"I did… but only a small one," the shopkeeper explained. "Just had another kid. We were cramped—eight people in one room. Needed a bit more space."

"You've got three wives, haven't you?" another officer chimed in, chuckling. "You weren't exactly shy about showing off a few years ago."

Yang, standing nearby, raised his eyebrows.

Three wives? That was… impressive.

The shopkeeper chuckled awkwardly. "Ah Sir, I regret it every day now. The stress is killing me."

"Alright, enough chit-chat. You know the drill," one of the policemen said, checking his watch.

"Of course. Here you go," the shopkeeper quickly handed over an envelope.

After pocketing the cash, the officers lingered for a few minutes, chatting casually, before finally strolling out with grins on their faces.

The moment they left, the shopkeeper spat on the ground. But then he remembered Yang was still inside.

"Sorry you had to see that, gentlemen," he said.

"Was that a monthly fee?" Yang asked bluntly.

The shopkeeper nodded. "Yeah. That's for the police. Then there's the gangs, plus rent and property fees. Things are better now than a few years ago—but it's still tough."

Yang gave a dry smile. "It's all the same. Without them, your landlord would just charge more rent anyway. At the end of the day, the system just makes sure the little guy barely survives."

In every society, the underlying principle was the same: keep the working class afloat—but just barely.

Some places used legal, nonviolent means. Hong Kong, in the 1950s? It used blatant corruption and intimidation.

"Yes, exactly," the shopkeeper said. "Actually, things used to be worse. It's a little better now. But rent keeps going up."

Zhao Liming, who had been quiet until now, asked curiously, "Boss, do you really have three wives?"

The shopkeeper laughed. "Sure do. A few years back, with so many immigrants flooding in, I had a few women interested in me. If I had more money, I could've married five or six!"

"Impressive," Zhao Liming said, giving a thumbs up.

The shopkeeper shook his head. "It's not impressive. It's a nightmare. Six kids. You have no idea how hard it is to feed them."

Yang chuckled. "Liming, maybe that'll be you someday."

He turned back to the shopkeeper. "Boss, I want a glue I can spread on wood, something strong enough to stick to animal skin or leather."

"How sticky do you need it to be? Should it be permanent, or removable?" the shopkeeper asked.

"Very sticky," Yang replied. "It needs to stay sticky for a long time."

He was buying glue for one reason only: to create the modern era's most effective rodent trap—the glue board.

Simple in theory, easy to make. But until now, Yang hadn't had the funds to register a patent or launch production.

Now, everything was falling into place. With the port project looming and no viable alternative to poison, this was the perfect time to deploy this secret weapon.

The shopkeeper turned to a shelf, pulled down a small bottle, and handed it to Yang.

"This is NK5308, imported from Japan. Very strong adhesive. Works well on wood."

Yang examined the 50ml bottle. "How much?"

"Two dollars."

Yang considered it. "Does Hong Kong have any glue manufacturers?"

The shopkeeper shook his head. "Not that I know of. Glue is part of the chemical industry. We don't have the facilities. Everything's imported."

Yang nodded. "If I buy in bulk, can I get a discount?"

"How much are you talking?"

"Hundreds of bottles, at least. Maybe more. Do you have large containers?"

"I can check with my supplier," the shopkeeper said. "They do carry 10kg drums. But I'll need to ask about the price."

"Great. Let me know next time."

Yang added, "Also, I need a type of paper-like material that can cover the glue, but won't stick to it. Something that can peel off easily."

The shopkeeper nodded and handed over a large, glossy sheet. "This is anti-adhesive backing paper. Very smooth. Doesn't stick. We use it in packaging and construction."

Yang took it and rubbed his fingers over it. The texture felt like the back of a sticker. Perfect.

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