Chapter 47 The Frenzy Across the Ocean and the Deification of "Charlatans"

Hongfeng Machinery Factory, Factory Director's Office.

The telephone rang incessantly.

Lin Xi had just picked up the receiver.

On the other end, Sun Dafu's signature loud voice, tinged with a Cantonese-accented Mandarin, came through.

The background was filled with the din of noisy voices.

"Manager Lin! Brother Lin!"

"You're truly a godsend!"

Sun Dafu's voice sounded so excited it was nearly cracking.

"Do you know what the market is like in the south right now?"

"People are going crazy! The counters at the Friendship Store are being swamped!"

Lin Xi moved the receiver twenty centimeters away and calmly picked at his ear.

"Old Sun, keep it down. Calm down."

"How many cities have we covered so far?"

"Guangzhou, Shenzhen, Fuzhou—the entire coastal area is covered!"

Sun Dafu couldn't calm down at all.

"Those leaders from the Second Bureau of Light Industry used to look down their noses at me."

"Now, every single one of them is bringing Chunghwa Cigarettes and blocking my door, begging for allocation slips!"

"This feeling is absolutely amazing!"

"This is called 'the southern wind blowing north'."

Lin Xi looked at the map on the wall, a slight smile playing on his lips.

"The south gets hot early, and they have Overseas Remittance Coupons; it's the best litmus test."

"As long as it takes off in the south, this trend will immediately sweep to the Yangtze River Basin."

"Say no more! I only have one request right now!"

Sun Dafu roared from the other end.

"Give me another three thousand units!"

"No, five thousand! I'll bring cash to Shanghai to pick them up myself!"

Hanging up the phone, Lin Xi flicked his cigarette ash.

The domestic market's explosive popularity was within his expectations.

In this era of material scarcity.

It was hard for an "industrial work of art" with great looks, crushing performance, and a fair price not to become a hit.

But this was just the appetizer.

The real highlight wasn't here.

Lin Xi's gaze pierced through the window, looking toward the far east.

That was the direction of the Pacific Ocean.

At this very moment, on the other side of the ocean, a real "disaster movie" was unfolding.

...

May 28, 1980, Lighthouse Country, Gotham City.

Although it was only the end of May, the entire North American Continent felt as if it had been tossed into a microwave and set to high.

A rare high-pressure system, like a giant pot lid, was clamped tightly over the Americas.

The weather station host loosened his tie and, dripping with sweat, pointed to the temperature map, which was turning a deep purple.

"My God, today's high has surpassed 102 degrees Fahrenheit (about 39 degrees Celsius)!"

"This is the hottest May since 1950!"

Sears Department Store flagship.

This was no longer a mall; it was a battlefield.

"Air conditioner! I want an air conditioner!"

A beefy white man waved his cash and slammed the counter with a thundering noise.

"Sorry, sir, the window units sold out yesterday."

The sales assistant explained desperately, "Even the stock for the next three months is gone!"

"Damn it!"

The burly man roared in anger.

"Then how am I supposed to sleep? Do you want my children to die of heat in their beds?"

Just then, a forklift slowly drove out.

On the pallet were dark green cardboard boxes piled like a small mountain.

Printed on the boxes was a striking red five-pointed star and that magical slogan:

[Soft & Safe].

"Those are fans! Those fans from the East!"

Someone shouted out.

In the next second, the crowd lunged forward like hungry wolves.

"Give me one!"

"Shut up! I saw it first!"

"I'll pay double!"

Harrison stood before the floor-to-ceiling window of the manager's office on the second floor, watching the frenzied scene below, his coffee cup trembling in his hand.

He felt like he wasn't watching a sales event, but a fanatical ritual.

In just half a day.

This batch of "Red Star" fans, which had just cleared customs and hadn't even made it to the shelves yet, was completely sold out.

How were these just fans?

This was water in the desert!

Harrison swallowed hard and, with a trembling hand, picked up the receiver of the transoceanic telephone.

In his mind, the scene from two months ago in that sweltering corner of the Canton Fair surfaced.

What that young man from the East had said to him—

"This isn't just a fan; it's life-saving medicine."

At the time, he thought it was just sales talk; now he knew it was a mysterious prophecy from the East.

...

Songjiang, Shanghai, Hongfeng Machinery Factory.

Late at night.

Lin Xi was checking the production schedule with Zhao Dagang when the phone rang again.

This time, it was an international long-distance call.

"Lin!"

"Oh my God! Lin!"

Harrison's roar, nearly cracking, came through the receiver; his heavy breathing was even audible.

"Are you a prophet?"

"Are you a wizard sent from the East?!"

"How did you know there would be a heatwave?"

"How did you know?!"

Lin Xi glanced at Zhao Dagang and made a "shushing" gesture.

Then, switching to fluent English, he spoke in a tone as casual as if they were chatting about the weather.

"Mr. Harrison, I told you long ago to believe in Eastern wisdom."

"I believe! I believe!"

"I even put your business card under my pillow when I sleep now!"

Harrison was incoherent.

"Listen, Lin, I need stock!"

"I need stock right now!"

"No matter how many you have, I'll take them all!"

"But..." Lin Xi paused deliberately.

"Sea freight takes time."

"And as you know, shipping space is very tight right now."

"To hell with sea freight!"

Harrison swore.

"Air freight! I want to use air freight!"

"I'll contact Pan Am's cargo planes right now; I'll pay for the shipping!"

"I'll cover the full cost! You just need to get the goods to the airport!"

Beside him, Zhao Dagang couldn't understand English, but he could read Lin Xi's expression.

It was the composure of a hunter watching his prey fall into the net.

"Since Mr. Harrison is being so sincere..."

The corner of Lin Xi's mouth curled up.

"Add 5 dollars to the ex-factory price per unit as 'heatwave overtime pay' for the workers. Is that a problem?"

"No problem!"

"Even 10 dollars wouldn't be a problem!"

"As long as you can ship!"

"By the way, my dear partner."

"Could you help me send some academic journals from your side?"

"Just the publicly distributed ones; that shouldn't be difficult, right?"

Harrison pondered for a moment and said, "Alright, since we are partners after all."

Hanging up the phone, Lin Xi turned around.

Zhao Dagang was looking at him expectantly. "Manager Lin, what did the foreigner say?"

"Prepare the stock." Lin Xi tossed his pen onto the desk.

"The first batch of three thousand units goes to the airport tomorrow morning via air freight."

"Also," Lin Xi held up five fingers,

"Add 5 dollars to the price of each unit. All of that money will be distributed to the workers as bonuses."

Zhao Dagang's eyes instantly turned red with excitement.

"I'm heading to the workshop right now!" Zhao Dagang grabbed his safety helmet and dashed out.

"I'll tell those rascals—if anyone dares to mess up at this critical moment..."

"...I'll hang them from the flagpole and dry them out like jerky!"

The entire Hongfeng Factory entered a full state of war.

The injection molding machines never stopped, even when the people did, running on three shifts around the clock.

A banner with white characters on a red background was hung in the workshop: "Work Hard for a Hundred Days, Earn Back a Small Car."

In an era where people were still haggling over a few cents' worth of work points.

The workers of Hongfeng Factory were enjoying the dividends of transnational capital.

However, the tree that stands out in the forest will be the first to be buffeted by the wind.