Chapter 104: The Worry Is Not Scarcity, But Inequality

It wasn't too bad; the cost of a morning dim sum meal ended up being thirty or forty yuan per person. It was still quite expensive—equivalent to a month’s wages for a city dweller—but not as absurdly priced as the hotel rooms.

Rang Weidong had observed that this dim sum restaurant was frequented by many local Guangzhou residents. The prices were high-end, yet not extravagant. The people of Guangzhou, much like those in Shanghai, possessed significant family wealth, but they seemed more willing to spend it on daily luxuries. As for the hotel guests, they were almost exclusively foreign businesspeople; after all, a five-star hotel room costing two or three hundred in foreign currency wasn't exactly unreasonable. When he hopped into a taxi, the driver could skillfully mention the actual black-market dollar exchange rate, which hovered between five and eight yuan. The immense dual-track system was visible even within the hotels of Guangzhou.

While eating, he learned that the master Cantonese chef wouldn't be coming in to prepare dinner until after three o'clock. Rang Weidong used the spare time to finalize the wire transfer for that machinery purchase. It nearly wiped out his cash reserves, and he even had to borrow a bit from the Malatang business funds.

Before it was even lunchtime, he headed straight for the university district recommended by the taxi driver. After a quick meal outside the campus, he went to play basketball. Zhang Lanzhi finally took the opportunity to browse the shops around the university. She bought herself a dress, leather sandals, and fresh undergarments. She also bought Rang Weidong a suit—a rare sight in the interior, but already common on the streets of Guangzhou and ubiquitous at the trade exhibition. It was a distinctive rice-gray color.

After searching the campus for a long time, she found him under the guidance of some students. He was wearing only a tank top, playing basketball with great intensity. Though she was already feeling a bit tired and had beads of sweat on her forehead, Zhang Lanzhi felt an immediate sense of relief. She sat down in the shade, hummed a tune while organizing her things, and looked around the campus, feeling a touch of envy.

By two o'clock, the students began to leave the court to prepare for afternoon classes. Rang Weidong was chatting and gesturing with a few students when his secretary approached with the bag. A dozen boys couldn't help but turn their heads.

The clothing stores around the university sold simple, affordable daily wear for students; there was nothing outlandish. Yet, Zhang Lanzhi had simply changed into a common short-sleeved white shirt tucked into a navy blue pleated skirt—a conservative style that fell below her knees. There was no hint of sexiness. She had tied her long hair into a ponytail and was wearing mid-heeled leather sandals. She carried an air about her that was entirely different from the students. She was fair-skinned and tall, and even without her military uniform, she retained a poised, elegant stature. With her small faux-leather handbag, she looked capable and mature. The students couldn't take their eyes off her.

Rang Weidong, however, stared at her hands in shock. Ignoring his own belongings, he rushed over to take the bag. The secretary looked proud: "I think you would look good in this..."

Before she could finish, her face turned pale with horror as this hopelessly "straight" man dumped the entire bag out. The brand-new suit, and even the undergarments she had tucked inside the military pants, spilled onto the ground! Her face turned crimson, as if it might bleed under the public gaze.

Rang Weidong had no eyes for beauty or lingerie: "The bag! Where did this bag come from? Damn, I didn't even see this at the exhibition! Where did you get it?"

It was true; all he saw was the plastic shopping bag—a staple of the next few decades—that was about to become ubiquitous in every corner of daily life. But in the 1980s, at least until this very moment, he had never seen one. From the first time he sold cured meat and eggs, he had struggled with the lack of bags for customers. Later, when he moved into Malatang, braised dishes, and the packaging for cameras and recorders, he had needed something like this. It was incredibly convenient and would eventually change the lifestyle of the next several decades. If he could secure the equipment to monopolize this in the Southwest, he could easily become the "Plastic Bag King."

In reality, even plastic bags were rare at this moment. Plastic was a byproduct of the petrochemical industry, which was fine—even the Xishan factory could tinker with plastic molds for camera bodies. But making plastic bags required them to be extremely thin, which called for highly precise film-blowing technology. They weren't there yet. Even cigarettes at the time didn't have that outer layer of plastic film; they relied entirely on the inner foil for moisture protection.

Seeing him holding the plastic bag up to the light like an idiot, Zhang Lanzhi sighed and crouched down to pack the clothes: "A commercial street outside the South Gate. I'll take you to see it."

This demure, wifely demeanor made the students even more envious. The ones who had been talking to Rang Weidong earlier stepped up enthusiastically: "Is this your partner?"

Rang Weidong immediately packed away the bag and got back to business: "This is Secretary Zhang from our camera factory. Any students interested in photography? Come by tomorrow at noon. We are looking for excellent works to participate in the National Photography Exhibition."

Zhang Lanzhi also switched into professional mode, hiding her undergarments inside the folded suit. She elegantly introduced the photo exhibition sponsored by the *Sunshine Daily* and welcomed them to come for an exchange the next day. The two had practiced this routine many times at the Echang universities, and their coordination was seamless. The students clustered around to look at the *Sunshine Daily* the secretary had produced, then agreed to come back the next day, casting lingering glances as they walked away. She had clearly left a beautiful impression on their minds.

Rang Weidong felt a bit troubled: "They keep talking about Nikon, Canon, Miranda, Jakarta... they look down on domestic cameras, let alone cheap ones."

The secretary didn't know much about international brands: "It seems the reform and opening-up here is quite advanced; I see that the shops and stores are very free."

Rang Weidong sighed: "Don't take the 'Southern Gateway' as a joke. The whole reform and opening-up started here; of course, it's the most advanced. Let's go, let's go check out these plastic bags first."

Zhang Lanzhi finally did a little trot to show him the suit and shirt: "It's not thick; it’s fine to wear this season. Thank you for treating me to so many good things."

Rang Weidong took them and measured them against himself: "It wasn't cheap, was it? How much? I'll pay you back."

The secretary shook her head: "Just buy yourself a pair of leather shoes. Dressing formally when talking to people is a sign of respect."

It was true that he was short on cash; otherwise, a full set would have been better. The stubborn man still scoffed: "Why spend your salary on this? I dress sloppily on purpose so people don't know I'm making money. If I go back to the Xishan factory looking all polished and fancy, people will start whispering. We work so hard in the mountains to assemble cameras for pennies; we could have lived happy, simple lives, but once those thoughts take root, you can't suppress them."

Zhang Lanzhi had opened her mouth to speak, but upon hearing this, she nodded: "What you say makes a lot of sense. I understand. I'll stick to wearing my military uniform when we go back."

Rang Weidong finally examined her new look, but didn't linger: "Yes, it looks good. We should dress better for work when we're out, but I'll keep it simple on campus. You look great like this. How much was it? I'll put it on the expense report as a clothing allowance."

Zhang Lanzhi was clearly tempted, but said insincerely: "What's bought is bought..."

Rang Weidong looked back: "Then we’ll start eating plain porridge at night to save on travel expenses."

The secretary’s expression immediately crumbled: "Ah?!"

The boss, turning away to hide a smirk, felt that teasing the secretary was much more fun than traveling with the guys like Gou Dan. Besides, the secretary was truly capable. The clothing store she found was a bit surprised by the customer's focus. Thinking there was something wrong with the suit, the shopkeeper gestured with a mix of Cantonese and broken Mandarin, indicating a factory nearby that had sent them the samples.

Rang Weidong quickly thanked them and went to the source. The Guangzhou Plastic Products Factory next to the university clearly looked like a state-run enterprise. Just as the gatekeeper was about to chase away the young man in a tank top carrying a shirt and gym clothes, Rang Weidong skillfully offered a cigarette and presented his work ID. After a few pleasantries, he asked about the origin of the plastic bags. He knew the gatekeeper's psychology too well; a little casual chat was harmless.

Before he even met the factory leadership, Rang Weidong had already gathered the essentials: the first production line in the country, imported from Japan two years ago at a cost of over a million yuan. Initially, it produced only a few thousand bags a day, but after Japanese technicians came to provide guidance last year, the scale reached tens of thousands per day.

Upon hearing about the million-yuan investment, Rang Weidong’s tone shifted to suggesting he could act as a sales agent for these plastic bags in the Southwest to help expand their volume. His standard 1980s salesman demeanor caught them off guard, and since everyone had a state-run factory background, they even took him to meet the leaders and tour the film-blowing and bag-making workshop.

Rang Weidong proposed taking a few photos to report back to his leadership, aiming to sell hundreds of thousands of bags annually with Jiangzhou as his base. They had no problem with that. They exchanged business cards before parting ways.

The secretary, who had followed behind the entire time trying desperately to understand the mix of Cantonese and Mandarin, was both impressed and confused. Once they were out, she asked: "We came to Guangzhou to solve the food factory issue. Being able to sell cameras along the way and expand sales is already amazing. Yesterday you suddenly bought a 70,000-yuan machine, and today you're tinkering with plastic bags. The books say you can't do things well if you're distracted." He was even running a recorder business back in Chengdu.

Seeing it was time to return to the hotel, Rang Weidong took the bus. He thought about some things he couldn't say: "I don't dare bet everything on one thing. If the camera factory bypasses me by copying my sales method, I’ll have no profit. The food factory isn't guaranteed to succeed either. So, I must seize the opportunity while the returns are good and find as many paths as possible... Let's put it this way: if we cooperate well, even if the camera business runs into trouble later, the Xishan factory could pivot to producing paper towels or plastic bags, right?"

Zhang Lanzhi couldn't believe it: "Cameras? What kind of trouble could cameras run into?"

Rang Weidong was vague: "Didn't the Xishan factory use to make surveying lenses? They didn't do that for a lifetime, either. Everything in this world changes, whether it's product performance or innovation. You tell me, is the Xiangshan factory wrong to focus only on SLR cameras? I heard they are going to import a Japanese production line. Let’s see who still has a market in five or ten years. One wrong step and you're in an abyss."

To Rang Weidong, cameras and recorders were just ways to make fast money—products of an era that would likely disappear within a decade. This created an invisible sense of urgency that forced him to push for more businesses to keep pace. In truth, it was also the blind confidence that comes when one has just made a bit of money, thinking one can do anything. Successful entrepreneurs were all like this, and he at least had the advantage of knowing what was actually viable. Naturally, he always wanted to reach out and grab more.

But hearing this made Zhang Lanzhi nervous. Even after boarding the bus, she whispered: "Xiangshan factory... I actually heard some people there regret it. Two of our six factories are already producing components for Xishan, and two others have taken on work to assist. If something goes wrong, how will we answer for it?"

Rang Weidong said casually: "That's why I say don't stir up trouble. As long as we cooperate happily, nothing will happen."

The secretary bit her lip and stood a little closer; the bus was quite crowded. Rang Weidong stepped aside to give her more space, having no intention of pulling her in.