Chapter 90: This World Will Ultimately Be As You Wish

As expected, the city leaders soon came to meet with the reform trailblazer.

Seeing Weidong arrive with children in tow, they became even more amiable and approachable. “Are these your children?” one asked kindly.

Weidong, now skilled at improvisation, replied, “They belong to a colleague. I’m running a test. See this baby carrier? We bought it in Zhezhou—it’s the latest imported model. Compared to the traditional swaddling cloths used in the countryside, isn’t this much more advanced? We’re currently inspecting manufacturers in Jiangzhou to prepare for local production.”

Indeed, the difference was stark. In the southwest, babies were bundled in worn-out towels or patched blankets; wealthier families might use a large piece of embroidered cloth with extra straps, but that was the extent of it.

This carrier, said to be made in Japan, was virtually identical to those that would be common twenty or thirty years later—complete with nylon buckles, corrective straps, and lumbar supports.

Its appearance was refined and the locks convenient.

Replicating it domestically would be costly—nylon buckles and high-density foam alone would be difficult to source.

He was merely making this up as he went along.

It was all in service of the agreements he'd just presented with the film factory and daily newspaper for a photo exhibition, and the production and R&D partnership with the Rongdu Electronics Factory—matters that had left the task force visibly unsettled.

Now he seized on this thread and pulled.

Weidong, of course, would never admit this was the child of the shop assistant they’d once arrested; there was no trace of defiance in his manner.

Instead, he instantly drew their focus. “You want to produce this? Is it economically viable? It doesn’t look cheap—will it sell?”

Weidong explained, “A consumer market of a billion people is unimaginably vast. The key is to make products that people genuinely need—then there’ll be no worry about sales.”

The leader crossed his legs, settling into the sofa. “From production for labor’s sake to production for demand’s sake?”

Even though Weidong had only taken the college entrance exam last year, he had little patience for such semantics. “Since Spring Festival, I’ve driven from Zhezhou to Jicheng and Pingjing, attended meetings, then traveled from Pingjing along the western border back to Shu, from Xishan to Guozhou to Rongdu, finally returning to Jiangzhou, and just yesterday to Shangzhou. It’s been a thorough sales investigation across more than a dozen provinces and cities.”

“The current situation is that factories are blindly producing heaps of goods, regardless of their suitability, leading to stockpiles. Meanwhile, consumers clamor for many goods still rationed by tickets and unavailable, because the entire system of unified purchase and sale is undergoing transformation—practically paralyzed. The commercial model you mentioned before the Spring Festival—moving products from factory to consumer—can’t be realized right now.”

The leader lit a cigarette. “Why not?”

Weidong boldly unfastened the baby carrier, letting Mao’er take the child outside.

Then he replied, “I’m a farm boy from Baifeng Mountain. Our commune used to do everything collectively—no private plots. Soon, people began to slack off and shirk responsibility, giving minimal effort for communal work. Then, with the household responsibility system, once everyone was responsible for their own land, enthusiasm and productivity soared. Now, industry faces the same issue. Whether workers produce more or less, they get the same wages, so why strive to innovate or sell? Salespeople receive the same whether they sell more or less, so there’s no incentive to expand markets. When the initial revolutionary zeal fades and human nature’s basic selfishness reasserts itself, the old model simply doesn’t work anymore.”

He had no desire to argue about systems—what did it matter to him?

But since he was here, he still hoped to get Lao You released.

As expected, the leader’s brow furrowed. “The people’s consciousness still needs to be raised!”

Weidong suppressed a laugh. “How much more conscious can people become? They’re humans, not machines. People naturally want better food and clothing. Why are cigarettes from the mountain city expensive and still in short supply? If everyone could live well, that’s the real foundation of happiness. Strapping our belts tighter and shouting slogans has already been proven ineffective.”

The leader countered sharply, “Nonsense!”

Stone sat quietly beside his big brother, simply feeling the magnitude of official authority.

Yet his brother remained unruffled, continuing calmly, “I have no right to play games. My father was nearly crippled, so I had to work desperately to afford his surgery. That’s all there is to it. Without the opportunities brought by economic reforms, my father would have been paralyzed for life. So I support reform and opening up wholeheartedly.”

The leader eyed him. “The surgery’s done now?”

Weidong nodded. “Yes. Jiangzhou is at the forefront of reform, so I brought my parents to settle here. They run a restaurant now, earning… over a thousand yuan a month.”

In truth, they made more than a thousand a day.

Even this understated figure astonished the city leader. “Over a thousand yuan?! Is that reasonable? Isn’t that disrupting economic order and widening the wealth gap?”

Weidong was puzzled. “Why can’t everyone earn over a thousand? Why must we all aim for the lowest? Legal, legitimate labor income—enough to give a dozen rural youths urban wages. I’ve come back hoping to take even more country boys out to work. The income and skills they bring home can help build a better hometown.”

Even after Jiangzhou gained municipality status, it remained one of the country’s most impoverished regions.

Shangzhou was even poorer—a poverty within poverty—so for the next twenty or thirty years, this place would become a primary source of migrant labor for the coastal regions.

But that hadn’t happened yet.

Weidong’s fundamentally non-confrontational attitude made the leader receptive. “How many people can a restaurant employ? You need to get more people involved.”

Stone, with the innocence of a seven- or eight-year-old, sat beside his big brother, legs swinging.

It made Weidong seem all the more like he was chatting at home. “Didn’t I report on the People’s Camera project before the Spring Festival? That’s already borne fruit…”

As expected, the leader leaned in with keen interest.

He didn’t have a sample camera on hand, but that didn’t stop Weidong from citing figures. “Shangzhou city has, what, a hundred thousand people? How many can afford a camera? But does everyone want to record their lives, keep a beautiful photo of themselves? A black-and-white photo costs fifty cents to a yuan, a color photo costs two, and a camera goes for at least a hundred—three or four hundred for a decent one, making it a luxury item.”

Counting on his fingers, he continued, “So, with Xishan Optics, our idea was to develop a simple camera—no fancy features, just the ability to capture light and shadow. Can we do it for thirty yuan?”

The leader’s eyes lit up. “Good! That’s just what the people need.”

Weidong painted the picture further. “Do you know how we bypass all supply and marketing systems to get our products directly into people’s hands? It’s interesting. In theory, we should go to Huhai, approach big department stores, try to get shelf space, or go to trade fairs in Jiangzhou, Yuezhou, Pingjing to win awards and exposure. But no—we took them straight to a small film shop by West Lake, and in the blink of an eye, sold hundreds. With crowds thronging the lakeshore, who wouldn’t want to take a picture in such a beautiful place, then take the camera home and keep making memories? Isn’t that a source of joy and happiness?”

These people who now resist change were once the most steadfast figures at the vanguard of struggle.

Yet their experiences made it difficult for them to accept such sweeping transformations, especially after more than a decade of tug-of-war.

Still, the very mention of such scenes piqued their interest, and they laughed heartily. “Yes, yes, yes! Twenty years ago, I went to West Lake. I wanted to take a picture, but there were so many meetings, I never got the chance.”

Weidong gave a quick instruction, “Stone, go ask Sister Dong for a camera. Next time you have a chance, you can capture your favorite scenes. That’s the purpose of our photo exhibition.”

Having the two boys on hand was truly useful.

Stone jumped up to go, and Weidong launched into another spirited account—how at Xishan Factory, he’d learned that seven domestic photographic materials plants were all working to develop homegrown color film. “Right now, every roll of color film on the market is imported, costing twenty-eight to thirty-seven yuan each—equivalent to a worker’s monthly wage. Yet people have to buy them. Without economic development, there’s no money for research. My trip to Rongdu made it clear—the country is so strapped that many research projects have halted, and the priority is just to keep these scientists and military enterprises fed.”

Smoothly, he shifted the conversation.

The old leader, after taking several deep drags on his cigarette, finally began to ponder.

You Qili had also debated this leader face-to-face, always discussing specialized terminology about different systems—a purely academic battle.

Ironically, Weidong, who focused only on practical matters and never talked ideology, was more persuasive:

“I searched through several photographic materials factories and found that the Kaixuan Plant in northern Ji was the easiest to work with—open to reform and action. I also consulted with reporters from the Sunshine Daily, and together we approached them. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have paid any attention to a kid from the southwest like me. But if we can develop domestic film and keep the price around ten yuan a roll, paired with the People’s Camera, doesn’t that stand up to the foreign competition?”

The old leader frowned deeply. “Can’t we just ban the use of foreign film?”

Weidong shook his head. “Without foreign film, we wouldn’t even have the ability to learn and improve our own color film production. Reform and opening up means learning from advanced experience and improving ourselves. We’ll take some losses at first, but with perseverance, one day our industries and products will stand at the top of the world. I believe this unshakably. To resist openness out of fear of early setbacks is to seal ourselves off—that’s the lesson of the Opium War, isn’t it?”

Theory is always a matter of perspective: you have your authorities, they have theirs, and endless debate leads only to emotional deadlock.

Weidong, knowing little theory, simply laid out the facts and cited examples.

Never mind his faith in the future—just in the past year, his practical experience offered ample proof.

The old leader of this remote, mountainous region slowly regarded him. “Xiao Rang, you must carry this unwavering resolve throughout your life.”

Weidong, of course, nodded. Wasn’t that obvious?

He had witnessed it all with his own eyes.