Chapter 62: Then I'll Send You a Soldier

Absolutely brilliant. Not only did it resolve the lingering worry of cheap cameras lacking affordable color film, it also orchestrated a grand photography exhibition for the thirty-fifth anniversary of the National Day, expanding influence and boosting sales. There were formal three-party agreements as proof. Everyone passed the documents around, visibly excited. Not a penny was spent from the factory’s funds, and it was clear that this year would see tremendous sales. Even the remaining thirty or forty rolls of white-packaged film that Wei Dong had brought back were handed over to Xishan Factory and Reporter Yu for testing.

The camera factory and the film factory were both encouraged to adapt to one another, striving for the lowest-cost optimal solution: “We want to popularize cameras to every corner of the people, recording every detail of the era of reform and opening up. So, no matter how exquisite the technique or aperture, it cannot compare to the moment an electrical worker stands atop an iron tower to capture their own triumph, nor to the fishermen returning with full holds from distant seas, and certainly not to the vibrant scenes in every street and alley…”

This kind of literary tone, which would later become common in short videos, had a different resonance in the 1980s. There was no need for affected bourgeois sentiment; what was wanted was the assertive spirit of the worker and peasant classes. Although that spirit had waned a little in recent years, the mainstream rhetoric remained. Even so, Yu Songhai, thoroughly satisfied, quietly added, “And our farmer brothers, capturing the abundant harvests amidst the waves of wheat, and the heroic soldiers returning from target practice. Good—this camera, jointly created by Xishan Factory and Wei Dong, will surely bring about both market success and a bounty for our spiritual civilization this year!”

Their back-and-forth left the factory leaders, long secluded in the mountains, impassioned. Witnessing Xishan Factory’s definitive success in military-to-civilian transformation, the other factories wished they could merge with it on the spot. After all, they were merely managers; administrative ranks were set by the Ministry of Machinery, and this would allow them to shed a huge burden and continue enjoying collective benefits. Bliss.

Only the factory producing SLRs hadn’t come. It was only at the end that Wei Dong stayed behind with the director of Xishan Factory for a private conversation. “Now that the sales network is established, let’s talk about the core issue—our relationship.”

Director Cheng’s expression grew solemn, clearly tense. “Comrade Wei, please speak.”

Wei Dong took a deep drag on his cigarette. The meeting room had been thick with smoke earlier. He had brought a few cartons of northern cigarettes for the factory leaders, but in the open, the room became a haze. Wei Dong considered opening a window, but before he could move, a tall figure by the wall promptly did it for him. Not paying much attention, assuming it was a staff member, he lowered his voice: “From my perspective, having helped Xishan Factory break open the sales front, I don’t want to be left out in the cold, watching someone else take over the sales and leave me out…”

The director was about to respond, but Wei Dong raised his hand to stop him. “Let me finish. From your perspective, you wouldn’t want me to control sales and use that to pressure you on prices. If you expand operations and I suddenly say sales have stalled, wouldn’t that put you in a bind?”

His intention was to be frank, to ensure that neither side could bypass the other. Yet, lacking negotiation skills, the director might have only felt threatened.

Unable to restrain himself, the director spoke up, “Let’s not have any trouble! On behalf of Xishan Factory, let me be clear— we can appoint you as head of sales immediately, with full responsibility for sales work. Let’s do our work well; this is our responsibility to the 1,700 employees of Xishan Factory, over 3,000 family members, and even more in the future.”

For this generation of factory leaders, the factory was a family. Ensuring everyone’s happiness and reunion was their greatest responsibility; profit was secondary, as the money belonged to the state.

Wei Dong, reassured, didn’t hesitate: “I sell at twenty-nine yuan per unit outside. There are plenty of sales costs, but let’s not get into that. I’ve thought it over, and the procurement price should remain at nineteen yuan per unit. The surplus can be used to expand production.”

He still felt uneasy, conscience pricking him—a single yuan meant little to him but had a profound impact on the factory.

The director hadn’t expected Wei Dong to increase the price himself. He was astonished and delighted. “Thank you, thank you… Actually, according to the directives for restructuring, it’s possible for production and sales experts to contract operations. If you wanted to be factory director, I believe you’d lead the entire workforce to even greater success… You’re just a bit young.”

After his travels in the north, Wei Dong had heard that many state-owned factories were going bankrupt. Those that survived were often like tobacco factories, sustained by public demand, but once private enterprises rose, they too would likely fall in droves. The fifty-something director had many peers already unemployed.

But Wei Dong immediately shook his head. “No, no, no. I just want to travel while I’m young, see the great rivers and mountains, broaden my horizons. I don’t even want to be head of sales… If I got entangled and someone accused me of misappropriating state assets, I’d be in real trouble. I know some things are dangerous.”

In his heart, he aspired to be a trader of airplanes, not to be tied down to a camera factory with no future.

Whether it was a test or genuine sincerity, such a young man was astonishing. In these closed, third-line factories, the director was almost like a local lord. Many scrambled for such positions. Yet this young man saw the weight of responsibility and risk behind such power.

The figure who had been quietly taking notes at the side looked up at him. The old director gazed at Wei Dong, perhaps wondering how someone so young could possess such foresight.

Taking a deep drag on his cigarette, the director finally admitted, “Yes, we belong to the state, to the Ministry of Machinery. As a factory with special significance, restructuring and contracting must be approached with caution. You’re right not to rush in; I should also tell you, if the higher-ups ever transfer me away from Xishan Factory, previous agreements could be voided. This is why we’re so candid, hoping you’ll take on more responsibility.”

Wei Dong, ever prudent, revealed his final card: “Here’s the deal. The ‘X’ brand is registered under my name. As long as you guarantee I have exclusive sales rights and Xishan Factory uses it for free, that’s fine. But if the agreement is overturned and someone else gets to sell, I reserve the right to reclaim the brand or charge a fee.”

Last year, trademark regulations had just come into effect nationwide. If the SLR factory hadn’t been caught out by this very issue, Xishan Factory would never have realized the value of a brand. Even now, the old director probably didn’t fully grasp what a brand meant, but after careful thought, he nodded in agreement.

The quiet figure in the corner then quickly drafted a simple agreement by hand. The following morning, under Yu Songhai’s witness, they signed the brand use and exclusive sales agreements.

At that moment, Wei Dong was a little puzzled—had typewriters already become common? The document looked like a printout. He hadn’t noticed this detail when signing the tripartite agreement at the film factory, but now his excitement distracted him from dwelling on it.

Regardless of how much legal authority protected state-owned factories and their superiors, at least in principle, Wei Dong finally had some intellectual property rights. The way of selling cameras by West Lake was no longer such a secret.

Of course, Wei Dong, with a great weight lifted from his heart, kept this to himself. The entire morning was spent signing agreements, touring the production line. Over lunch, he earnestly advised the factory to develop an even better cheap camera, ensuring competitors wouldn’t surpass them with their own low-cost models.

Naturally, this meant a model with a flash. The appearance could remain unchanged—a version with an inbuilt flash powered by two AA batteries, enabling photography in dim conditions.

This was currently the greatest weakness of the X camera; if the lighting was poor, the pictures were hopelessly blurry.

The old director and technicians nodded vigorously. “Factory Seven specializes in flashes. The Changcheng model from Pingjing Factory launched one last year—over two hundred seventy yuan each. We’ll figure out how to get the blueprints.”

Wei Dong agreed to buy one and send it over promptly.

Everyone was in high spirits, a harmonious atmosphere prevailing.

It wasn’t until it was time to depart for Guozhou that the old director introduced the tall young woman behind him. “This is Xiao Zhang, the factory’s typist and office assistant. Reporter Yu mentioned you’d be heading to the provincial capital, so Xiao Zhang will accompany you as support. We also have a liaison office in the city for your convenience. Consider this the formal handover of sales work to you.”

Wei Dong, the archetypal iron-willed man, finally gave the girl with the small leather satchel a proper look. Tall and fair-skinned, she clearly wasn’t of eastern Sichuan stock—her demeanor refined, her features delicate, with a poised military air beneath her gentle smile.

Indeed, she was wearing a military uniform. Even if the unadorned uniform was now a popular civilian style, her soft cap bore an insignia!

Wei Dong dared not look any longer. “Alright, let’s go. See you around.”

Goudan and the others, who had nearly started a barbecue business in the factory yard, caught sight of the female officer from afar and didn’t dare compete for seats in the cab, swiftly climbing into the cargo bay.

The five hundred cameras for delivery had long since been loaded.

Unexpectedly, several agile figures from the send-off crowd jumped up, carrying several more boxes into the truck—Goudan and his team hurried to help. It felt almost like a wedding dowry.

Only then did Wei Dong suspect that she must be the daughter of some factory leader.

It was Yu Songhai who invited Zhang Lanzhi to the cab. He spent most of the journey chatting—after all, journalists are skilled at drawing people out.

As a military representative, there were always army personnel assigned to these factories for technical oversight and feedback from the field. Zhang Lanzhi’s parents had been stationed here from Shanghai for two or three decades.

She herself had joined the military as a civilian worker at sixteen or seventeen. She hadn’t even finished high school; her family’s scholarly background was what gave her such a refined air. Aside from two trips to the provincial capital, she’d rarely left this remote mountain enclave.

Seated by the car door, she quickly shed her earlier reserved elegance, revealing the excitement of a sheltered girl—though she was already in her early twenties.

Yu Songhai, ever the tease, had the typist sit beside the driver and even took profile photos of the pair.

Wei Dong paid no mind to the subtle fragrance of the beauty beside him; his thoughts were elsewhere: “This is clearly someone sent by the factory to probe my sales strategy. At least until I’m in full control, she can’t be allowed to go to Jiangzhou.”

If she got hold of that endlessly ringing hand-cranked phone, she’d be able to bypass him entirely in sales.

That was the thinking of a consummate straight man. And he wasn’t wrong.