Chapter 151: I would rather die, die out on the streets, than ever accept this kind of... technological conscience.

After taking a look, Rang Weidong rejected it outright.

The reason was simple: this production line imported from Japan was truly a thoroughbred aristocrat that only consumed the finest provisions.

The entire automated line started with non-woven fabric and absorbent cotton raw materials, applied adhesive backing to each piece instantly, sealed them hermetically in individual waxed paper pouches, and finally packaged the finished products in colorful printed plastic bags!

The whole process was mechanically automated!

It required no manual intervention; a handful of workers were enough to keep things running smoothly and replenish materials as needed.

The entire production workshop maintained a genuine sterile, dust-free, high-standard environment where everyone wore dust-proof suits, entering and exiting through warm-air and ultraviolet disinfection chambers.

What was the use of this thing? Every single step was so precisely controlled that it could only use imported raw materials.

From the non-woven fabric to the absorbent cotton, from the adhesive backing to the sealed pouches, and even down to the final colorful plastic packaging bags, everything had to be original imports.

Otherwise, the computer-controlled equipment simply would not recognize them!

This was a classic trap of fleecing you ten times over on a single sanitary napkin.

They charge an exorbitant price for the equipment and production line once, and then perpetually fleece you on raw materials at every single stage.

And the prices were unimaginably high.

One could easily imagine who would actually be able to use the things produced here.

Zhang Lingyun, He Yuemei, and the others followed along, witnessing once again that their boss's core principle was absolutely, unshakably firm.

With just a casual glance that didn't even prompt any questions about details, Rang Weidong immediately shook his head: "No. Our approaches are entirely different; those with differing principles cannot work together."

The leadership of the paper mill attempted to apply pressure: "Well... then it is unlikely that the General Federation of Supply and Marketing Cooperatives will include this on their procurement list."

Rang Weidong answered cleanly and decisively: "Then we simply won't enter the Supply and Marketing Cooperatives. My heart shines bright toward the moon, yet... if a business cannot be done all the way, and the supply and marketing system won't take it, I'll just pursue another model. It's no big deal, and I'll have to decline your company on this matter."

He literally turned around and left right after saying this.

When he arrived, he still held a faint hope that this might be a regular, compatible production line, and that any issues were merely due to the high costs of state-owned factories and imported raw materials.

Instead, it turned out to be so advanced that it even featured computer systems!

In fact, it was only yesterday when Rang Weidong walked out of the Capital Airport that he noticed the ground staff behind the counters operating computers!

Although they were still those greenish screens with keyboards seemingly fixed to the monitors, that exact gadget was something Rang Weidong had rarely used, and he had no grasp of the broader technological timeline.

He hadn't expected today's fully automated production line to also come equipped with screen-operated controls.

He immediately realized he had bitten off more than he could chew.

God knows how expensive this thing was, and how much money had been poured into it!

Following his perspective in taxation, he had long since despised the painful lessons of camera factories blindly importing foreign production lines only to leave a messy mess behind.

Saying that all production lines imported in the 1980s were complete failures would certainly be an angry exaggeration.

Because under conditions of extreme backwardness, importing advanced experience was an absolute necessity, which was entirely understandable.

However, the reality was that the vast majority of state-owned enterprises failed to drive production improvements or modernization after importing them, and were eventually abandoned or carved up by private enterprises as they gradually adapted to market forces and developed according to market laws.

Taxation had seen far too many of these cases.

Even in a prefecture-level city like Shangzhou, there were countless examples.

In a place like Beijing, just thinking about the brain-melting palace-intrigue dynamics made one want to stay far away.

The college students watched in a daze.

At this time, state-owned factories were still seen as prestigious iron rice bowls, especially tier-one behemoths in Beijing, Shanghai, and Guangzhou. They certainly wouldn't be left to fend for themselves like Third Front factories; everyone firmly believed they would definitely be bailed out, never abandoned, and that their golden rice bowls would never shatter.

For graduates, being able to join such a factory was undoubtedly a sign of extraordinary ancestral fortune, and those spots were basically reserved for local residents.

Yet their boss felt not the slightest bit of attachment toward cooperating with this behemoth; the moment the extra conditions exceeded his acceptable limits, he walked away without a second thought.

He never lingered in a battle he didn't want!

Shen Cuiyue was utterly satisfied anyway. Clutching her folder and puffing out her chest, she immediately followed right behind him.

The students quickly caught up, holding their heads up high.

***

Rang Weidong's demeanor only served to highlight that he had something reliable to fall back on.

The paper mill's tone softened immediately: "There are many ways to cooperate, we can communicate further. You're going to open a production line in the north anyway, right?"

Rang Weidong thought for a moment and nodded: "But our production line is truly simple. Let me speak from the bottom of my heart: if I ship a few pieces of equipment over, you could look at them and hire people to replicate them. This stuff really isn't difficult to manufacture; the hard part is how to lower costs while still managing to sell it. In reality, my primary sales don't rely on the supply and marketing cooperatives—that's merely an option to ensure that people all over the country can buy it instantly the moment they want to. Our sales rely on these..."

He raised a hand and pointed at the white-shirted university graduates standing nearby.

Although they wore ordinary suits and shirts, the six college students felt as solemn as if they were wearing military uniforms, and they desperately wanted to shout in unison: Yes!

Of course, that would look somewhat foolish, so they all strained to stand up straight and puff out their chests.

Even the supply and marketing system—possessing tens of thousands of cooperatives nationwide—could be dismissed, yet he placed his hopes entirely on them.

Here was an army obeying every command, ready to shed blood and lay down their lives.

Decades later, if not for state bailouts, the supply and marketing cooperatives would have vanished without a trace.

This was the confidence that a generational gap in sales models brought to Rang Weidong.

Meanwhile, the paper mill leadership was thinking: Just how powerful is your backing to be even more arrogant than the General Federation of Supply and Marketing Cooperatives?

They became even more polite: "We also received orders to manufacture this advanced product. Since you're going to open a branch factory anyway, you can just take this over to support production. Which machine produces a bit more doesn't really matter, right? The key is that the investment isn't wasted, and you can secure more support, can't you? After all, this is a project backed by several ministries."

A young man in his early twenties, standing tall with a tightened chest, would likely have believed it in a moment of heated enthusiasm.

Rang Weidong even had a flash of thought: Would You Qili fall into this pit if he came here?

That guy was particularly fond of this sort of thing.

Rang Weidong only lowered his voice slightly: "Is this passing the buck or taking the blame? Why on earth would I touch a hot potato? I have perfectly fine products, a factory, sales channels, and R&D—everything is in place. Why would I meddle in your mess? Did you notice that from beginning to end, I never once asked how much importing this project cost?"

Rang Weidong was merely dropping casual pretenses to show that they shouldn't treat him like a sucker, as he roughly understood the hidden dangers within.

In truth, asking about the total project cost made very little difference.

The expression of the paper mill leader shifted.

However, his decisiveness was far greater than that of the postal equipment factory; he immediately took a few steps to catch up: "Alright then, you don't need to take on the assets of this specific production line, but we can establish a joint-stock company using this workshop and its employees as our equity stake to support your production in Beijing."

Rang Weidong stopped in his tracks: "You're still treating me like a fool. Can I afford to use noble Beijing workers? If I really want to open this branch factory, I can just find any urban-rural fringe area around Beijing, recruit a few farmers from Hebei, and the costs drop immediately. Why on earth would I set up shop here, help you bear the blame, and absorb your employee burden—all just to secure entry into the Supply and Marketing Cooperatives to supply sanitary napkins to women across the country without making a profit? Am I out of my mind?"

In reality, he was already somewhat tempted.

His purpose in entering the Supply and Marketing Cooperatives truly wasn't just to make money.

Naturally, it wasn't entirely to ensure that hundreds of millions of female compatriots could use sanitary napkins either—his small shoulders simply couldn't bear such a grandiose mission.

As friends in later generations would know, this was about securing national market share!

Regardless of whether people bought it or not, as long as the goods were shipped to a given province, every supply and marketing cooperative in that entire province would have this product.

Ask yourself, which enterprise at this time—including state-owned enterprises—could achieve that?

Over the past few decades, the entire country had only two things that fully deployed their networks across the board: the postal service and the supply and marketing cooperatives.

Later internet companies would fight bloody battles to capture this kind of market share, burning through countless billions, whereas Rang Weidong had only one baseline condition: as long as it didn't lose money.

The other party's suggestion to open a branch factory in Beijing actually served as a timely reminder.

Shipping finished products all the way from Jiangzhou was truly far less efficient than shipping a few machines and raw materials up here to manufacture locally, allowing them to replenish stock in the northern region at any time.

As long as he didn't get tangled up with that imported production line, gaining a free local powerhouse as an ally was still acceptable.

However, during negotiations, he still had to make it sound like he was taking a massive loss.

Lacking any modern internet awareness, the paper mill leader naturally felt his analysis made sense, gritted his teeth, and compromised further: "Our factory can merge this branch into the joint-stock company with only a thirty percent stake, while all operational and managerial rights will belong entirely to you. I will withdraw the workers back to the paper mill, but you must use our 'Flying Swallow' brand."

Such a wonderful deal?!

That meant there must be something fishy going on.

Pies didn't fall from the sky.

Besides, who had such strong brand awareness in this era?

Rang Weidong kept a poker face and asked: "Why?"

***

The paper mill leader finally explained with a helpless sigh: "This is a brand name personally inscribed with high hopes by our leadership, but what can we do? As you said, non-woven fabric cannot currently be produced domestically, and every single raw material for this entire line must be imported. If I could manufacture non-woven fabric and make plastic bags myself, I'd go serve as prime minister in the imperial court. The pressure from all sides is so heavy right now that our paper mill is on the verge of collapsing. Just produce according to your own model and bring this line along as much as you can—that is my sole request."

Rang Weidong understood. The knot that had been tied here lay right on the dawn of technological innovation and generational transition.

That petrochemical plant in Jiangzhou might be able to produce non-woven fabric in a few years, and that plastic factory in Guangzhou was starting to make plastic bags, but for now, they were still basically limited to importing raw materials.

This breakthrough was right on the threshold, but the pressure bearing down on this factory had already become unbearable.

If they couldn't hold on, this factory director would be ousted and replaced.

Therefore, from his perspective, he was now desperately trying to save himself.

Rang Weidong pressed for more details: "Does this workshop carry any debts?"

Sure enough!

Just like the烂摊子 (messes) taken over by the tax bureau, almost every imported production line in the 1980s was bought with loans!

That made sense; under the previous planned economy model, how could there possibly be any significant capital accumulation, let alone foreign exchange?

Almost all of them imported production lines through loans.

Hesitating for a moment, the other party admitted: "There's a loan of 1.2 million, while the rest was subsidized by the city and special funds. We've been running at a loss all this time; how could we possibly pay back the loan?"

1.2 million—roughly equivalent to tens or hundreds of millions in later times—could indeed drive a factory director to jump off a building in 1984.

Rang Weidong looked at him while his not-very-efficient calculation faculties quietly started spinning.

The factory director, assuming he was hesitating and weighing the options, quickly added a bit more weight to the scale: "Twenty years! Twenty years to pay it off! If you're willing to take on the debt, we'll assign this entire factory area to you without taking any shares. A complete buyout! The industrial policy for this was already issued last year."

Ah?

This factory site was right by the Third Ring Road!

And it was right near the automobile manufacturing plant where they had gone to buy trucks just yesterday.

When they drove over, everyone had a sense of déjà vu.

Rang Weidong had never been to Beijing in his past life, but he knew the song lyrics about how traffic jams on the Fifth Ring Road still allowed you to eat pancakes!

Wasn't this Third Ring Road practically the city center?

This entire industrial zone would definitely be slated for demolition in the future, right?

Buying this demolition-ready factory site for 1.2 million on a twenty-year installment plan?

It was on the scale of a modest neighborhood factory, but it still featured a multi-story workshop building and a row of single-story brick houses.

At the very least, the open space between the workshop and the single-story rooms could easily park seven or eight large cargo trucks.

Just ask yourself if it was worth it, especially on a twenty-year loan.

Just ask what this plot of land would be worth by that time—surely more than 12 million.

Rang Weidong had to expend all his physical strength just to let out a faint sigh, while being careful not to make any snoring sounds: "Look... what kind of mess have you gotten yourselves into? I..."

After repeating "I" several times, he racked his brain to find an excuse and reason for bargaining: "We'll use 'Flying Swallow' inside the supply and marketing cooperatives, but outside we'll still use our own brand. If that doesn't work, forget it."

In truth, he was terrified the other party would actually say "forget it"!

Fortunately, the factory leader indeed lacked brand awareness, caring only about political optics: "Deal! Absolutely no problem. Shall I call people over to sign the contract?"

Both sides were suppressing inner ecstasy, pretending to be nonchalant out of fear that the other would back out, while moving at lightning speed to lock down the contract in writing.

The paper mill even summoned the Municipal Bureau of Light Industry and the bank to jointly witness the event!

Even the loan contract was transferred and re-signed on the spot.

The instant it was signed, everyone felt a tremendous sense of relief!

The paper mill immediately put on a cold face, acting as if this burden had nothing more to do with them from this moment on, and scattered away in a rush!

Even the workers left!