Chapter 38 Suicide-Style Foreign Exchange Earning

April 1980, Guangzhou, the site of the Canton Fair.

The Liuhua Road Exhibition Hall was like a giant steamer, making people from all over the country look oily and sweaty.

The air was thick with the smell of sour sweat, cheap tobacco, and the pungent odor of evaporating engine oil.

At this time, the Canton Fair exhibition hall did not yet have full central air conditioning coverage.

Dozens of giant industrial exhaust fans roared overhead, but they only served to stir the heat waves more evenly.

The exhibition area for the Seventh Ministry of Machine Building Industry (Ministry of Aerospace) was located in the deepest part of Hall C.

This should have been a stage to showcase the heavy equipment of a great power, but at this moment, it felt particularly awkward.

A giant model of the Long March rocket reached up to the ceiling, with several satellite models hanging in mid-air.

Engine nozzles and radar components were scattered all around.

At this trade fair, where light industrial textiles and local specialties took center stage.

This pile of cold, giant machines was like heavy tanks barging into a vegetable market.

Every inch of them screamed "Keep Out."

And in the shadows of these giants, in the corner of a crate.

Sun Erga was squatting on the ground, frantically wiping sweat with his sleeve, his face full of grievance and resentment.

"Manager, this is just too much!"

Sun Erga pointed at the "red star · gentle breeze" in front of him.

It was perched pitifully on a missile packing crate.

"We're here for the exhibition too, why are we being squeezed into the back?"

"They didn't even give us a table! Foreign businessmen won't see us at all!"

Just ten minutes ago, Section Chief Wang from the Foreign Affairs Bureau had passed by.

He complained that the fan was blocking the introduction plaque for the "Dongfeng" missile model behind it and forced them to move back two meters.

Now, they were practically standing against the corner.

In front of them was a giant missile tail fin; unless someone specifically crawled inside to look.

Otherwise, they wouldn't discover there was a fan seller here at all.

Lin Xi held a folding fan in his hand, fanning himself unhurriedly, his expression calm.

"Erga, a calm heart keeps you cool."

"How can I be calm!"

Sun Erga stamped his feet in frustration.

"The stall next door selling bamboo-woven thermoses has already made sales, while we don't even have a ghost in sight!"

Lin Xi smiled and didn't respond.

He stood up and brushed the dust off his trouser legs.

"You keep an eye on things here; I'm going to our 'friendly competitors' to learn a thing or two."

...

Hall B, Light Industrial Electrical Appliances Exhibition Area.

The popularity here was much higher than in the aerospace exhibition area, but it was also much noisier.

As the leader of the fan industry, the Shanghai Huashang Factory occupied the best position.

A huge banner read "China Time-Honored Brand, Quality Passed Down for a Century."

However, the atmosphere in front of the booth was not pleasant.

Section Chief Li Weiguo, the sales chief of the Huashang Factory, was currently dripping with sweat, a large patch on the back of his shirt soaked through.

He was using broken English and gestures to communicate with a red-nosed German businessman.

"Sir, please look! All-steel construction!"

To prove the quality.

He even picked up a screwdriver handle and banged it twice on the heavy cast-iron base, making a "clang clang" sound.

"Heavy, solid, won't break for 50 years!"

The German businessman frowned, reached out to test the weight of the fan, and almost couldn't lift it.

He shook his head and babbled something to the translator beside him.

The translator looked troubled and turned to Section Chief Li.

"Section Chief Li, Mr. Schneider says this is too heavy."

"Isn't heavy good? It's made of real materials!"

Section Chief Li got anxious. "We used good iron for this base; no cutting corners!"

"Mr. Schneider says sea freight is calculated by weight."

"With this weight, the freight will be more expensive than the fan."

The translator helplessly continued to relay.

"And... he says the design is too ugly."

"It's all black and looks like an industrial monster; putting it in his wife's bedroom would cause nightmares."

Section Chief Li's face turned pale.

Ugly?

This was the classic Huashang Factory black lacquer with gold trim; it had been sold for decades, how could it be ugly?

Seeing the German about to leave, Section Chief Li gritted his teeth.

He shouted a price that even made Lin Xi feel the sting.

"18 dollars! No, 17 dollars!"

17 dollars.

At the current exchange rate, that was about 25-plus RMB.

You should know that the cost of such an all-metal fan in the country was nearly 60 yuan. (Note)

This price was purely selling at a loss just to get some attention.

It was to meet the foreign exchange earning targets set by the ministry, also known as the legendary "suicidal foreign exchange earning."

The German businessman stopped and looked back.

But it was only a glance.

He shrugged, dropped a "not interested," and disappeared into the crowd.

Section Chief Li slumped against the display stand like a deflated ball.

Lin Xi stood outside the crowd, silently watching this scene.

This was the reality of 1980.

We had the most hardworking workers and the best materials.

But because of backward design concepts and a lack of business thinking, industrial products could only be sold as scrap metal and were still looked down upon.

"It's time to teach these foreigners a lesson."

Lin Xi turned around and, against the flow of the crowd, strode back to the corner shrouded in the shadow of the missile.

...

Back at the booth, Sun Erga was nearly collapsing from the heat.

He was pressing his face against the mesh cover of the unpowered fan, trying to absorb that tiny bit of coolness.

"Plug it in."

Lin Xi walked over and said succinctly.

"Huh?"

"Manager, there's no one here. Isn't plugging it in a waste of electricity?"

Although Sun Erga grumbled, he still did as he was told.

"Click."

The piano-style switch was pressed.

There was no "humming" roar typical of traditional motors starting, nor the resonance of the casing caused by vibration.

The dark green five-blade fan instantly turned into a blur.

A crisp, delicate cool breeze, like flowing mountain spring water, surged out silently.

In this noisy, sweltering, sweat-stinking corner of the exhibition hall.

This small space instantly became another world.

Five minutes later.

Several Italian businessmen with flushed faces and three shirt buttons undone passed by.

They originally just wanted to find a place to smoke a cigarette and hide from the terrifying crowd outside.

Suddenly, the bearded leader paused.

He turned his head in confusion, following that trace of coolness, and poked his head behind the giant "Dongfeng-3" missile model.

"Oh! My God!"

The bearded man let out a comfortable groan.

He didn't even look at what the fan looked like.

He turned his back directly, facing the fan with his broad back, and even stuck his buttocks out close to the mesh cover.

"Luigi! Come quickly! This is heaven!"

Soon, the three Italians had completely blocked Lin Xi's small corner.

They surrounded the fan without any hesitation.

One was cooling his back, another lifted his shirt to cool his belly, and another took off his hat to let the fan blow on his balding head.

Sun Erga was stunned.

Immediately after, his anger flared up.

"Manager! Look at these foreign devils!"

Sun Erga lowered his voice, his neck turning red with anger.

"What do they think this place is?"

"They don't ask about the price or look at the product; they just stick their big butts out and mooch?!"

(Note: For foreign exchange settlement, the state does not use 1:1.5, but settles with foreign exchange units at 1:2.8, and there are also tax rebates and other incentives. Therefore, for a cost of 60 yuan, it was sold for 20 dollars.)