Chapter 467: Wanshang Holdings Soars Into Existence

The wind off Shenzhen Bay, laced with salty brine and diesel, slapped my face like a warm palm.

Li Ping'an stood on the newly topped 38th‑floor rooftop of the Wanxiang Dasha, looking down at the boiling land beneath.

In the distance, the Bao'an Industrial Park factories stretched like a steel mountain range, their chimneys exhaling white breath; nearby, on Shen Nan Avenue, the red Wanshang bus crawled like a diligent worker ant across the brand‑new asphalt, leaving a trace of the era.

He inhaled deeply, his lungs filling with the distinctive scent of spring 1990—cement dust, sea breeze, and a restless hope.

"Dad, everyone's here."

Li Yaozong stepped behind him, a thick folder in hand. The twenty‑something young man wore a crisp gray suit, his hair meticulously combed; his brows and eyes already bore the sharpness his father had, yet with less world‑worn weariness and more scholarly air.

Li Ping'an turned, patting his son's shoulder: "Let's go see our family assets."

In the top‑floor conference room, the long mahogany table was surrounded by people.

The air carried cigar smoke, tea fragrance, and a faint whiff of engine oil—He Xiao had rushed straight from the test track, oil stains still on his work trousers.

Li Ping'an took his seat at the head, his gaze sweeping over the familiar faces.

On the left sat He Xiao, the overall head of Bao'an Industrial Park, his square face sun‑tanned dark, eyes shining like headlights.

Next was Xu Jiaming, his fingers unconsciously drumming on his knee as if tapping an invisible keyboard.

Zheng Guodong had put on some weight, cheerfully holding a Yixing teapot to pour for himself, looking like a Maitreya Buddha.

Zhou Huaming, the youngest, wore a fashionable jacket, his hair styled with mousse.

Zhang Wei sat at the far end, a stack of thick blueprints spread before him, his brows knit as if still solving an equation.

On the right was Zhou Wenbin, who had hurried back from Hong Kong, dust‑caked, bloodshot eyes, yet his back was straight.

Ma Guotao and Chen Qiming sat side by side, one's skin rough as rock, the other in a suit yet exuding the scent of an oil well.

Chen Jianghe arrived a little late, slipping in silently and giving Li Ping'an a slight nod.

Sha Zhu He Yuzhu sat in the corner, arms crossed, looking as if "I'm just here to listen."

Wang Dahu stood by the door like a guardian deity, his sharp gaze scanning the outside.

Shen Wenyuan was the last to arrive, still cradling a brocade box, placing it gently on a corner of the conference table.

"No plenary meeting today, no reports."

Li Ping'an spoke, his voice low but causing everyone to sit up straight, "We're just old comrades chatting about family matters—how much property this big family actually has, and how we should twist it into one rope."

He turned to He Xiao: "You go first on the automotive side."

He Xiao sprang up with a whoosh, pulled a stack of photos from his canvas bag, and slapped them onto the table.

The photos showed various models—from the sturdy Wanshang van to the imposing coach; from field hand‑push tractors to motorcycles racing on the streets; and a few of prototype sedans under test, their streamlined bodies glinting silver in the sun.

"Last year's total output was 87,000 units."

He Xiao spoke at machine‑gun speed, "Vans make up 40%, tractors 30%, buses 20%, motorcycles 10%. There are three problems: first, the engines still rely on imports; Mitsubishi's supply price has risen by fifteen percent; second, chassis tuning—old James does have skill, but he says our road conditions are too complex, requiring a redesign of the suspension system; third…"

He paused, glanced at Li Ping'an: "Third, the sedan project we want to launch still lacks a production license. They say we 'lack technical reserves and may disrupt market order.'"

A low murmur of discussion rose in the conference room.

"I'll handle the license," Li Ping'an said calmly, "What about the engines? Zhang Wei, what's your side's take?"

Zhang Wei adjusted his glasses, pulling a sheet from the stack: "The Nanshan R&D Center's diesel engine team has produced a prototype, its power eight percent lower than the Japanese equivalent, but durability tests have passed three thousand hours. The key is cost—only half that of the imported unit."

He paused, adding, "However, mass production will still need time, at least a year."

"A year is too long!" He Xiao exclaimed, pulling at his hair, "The production line can't wait!"

"Then we'll walk on two legs."

Li Ping'an tapped the tabletop, "We'll keep using imported engines to maintain output while we push full‑scale domestic development. He Xiao, you and Zhang Wei will form a joint project team and report progress to me weekly."

He turned to Xu Jiaming: "What about the computers?"

Xu Jiaming rose, opening the portable case he carried—not a leather suitcase but a silver metal box, which emitted a light click when opened.

Inside lay a black machine, its screen a full circle larger than the first generation's, and the keyboard slimmer and lighter.

"Morning Star II, 16 MHz main frequency, memory expanded to 1 MB, 20 MB hard drive," Xu Jiaming said with pride, "Chinese programming textbooks have already sold thirty‑thousand copies, and twenty‑three universities nationwide have pilot classes. The second‑generation BP Pager will go into mass production next month, capable of displaying Chinese characters. The big‑phone…"

He gave a wry smile, "It's still too big, like a brick, but the signal is more stable than Motorola's."

"Sales?" Li Ping'an asked.

"The computers sold 12,000 units last year, mainly to enterprises and institutions. The BP Pagers sold 80,000 units, supply couldn't meet demand."

Xu Jiaming's eyes lit up, "If we could solve the LCD import issue…"

"We can't solve it," Zhang Wei interjected abruptly, "Sharp of Japan has monopolized medium‑small LCD panels, choking us. Our own LCD lab is still doing basic research."

The conference room fell silent.

"Then we'll bypass it," Zheng Guodong said cheerfully, breaking the silence.

He patted his big belly: "At our Longhua Industrial Park, refrigerators sold 150,000 units last year, air conditioners 80,000, washing machines 120,000, fans… hey, a full million units! Why? Because we don't wait for LCD panels; we use domestic compressors, domestic motors, domestic plastic housings. Technology not advanced enough? No problem—cheap, durable, great after‑sales service!"

He looked at Xu Jiaming: "Junior, listen to your senior—ordinary people now want value, not high tech. Your computer at eight thousand a piece could buy me twenty fans."

Xu Jiaming's face flushed, ready to argue, but Li Ping'an raised a hand to stop him.

"Master Zheng is right, but not entirely."

Li Ping'an said slowly, "Home appliances are the present, computers the future. We must eat now and sow seeds for tomorrow."

He turned to Zhou Huaming: "What about the clothing side?"

Zhou Huaming sprang up with a swish, unfolding several sample garments he'd brought.

"Pingshan Industrial Park produced 2.8 million ready‑made garments last year, and 1.5 million sets of shoes and hats."

He spoke briskly, "Our 'Wanshang' brand sneakers are now the favorite of northern students; the shirts even sold to the Soviet Union—yes, that's thanks to Zhou Zong's connections over there."

Zhou Wenbin nodded: "Trading light‑industry goods for heavy‑industry equipment is very cost‑effective."

"But the problem arises."

Zhou Huaming withdrew his smile, "Our designs… to be frank, are all copied from Hong Kong and Japan. Without our own designers we can only follow trends forever."

From the corner, Shen Wenyuan suddenly spoke up: "I have an idea."

Everyone looked at the usually silent old gentleman.

"Our ancestors' clothing—cheongsam, Zhongshan suit, Tang costume—can they be… modernized?" Shen Wenyuan opened the brocade box he had brought; inside was a modified stand‑collar shirt, its fabric a silk blend, the buttons made of jade. "I had a master craftsman try it out; the cost is a bit high, but when you wear it, you'll never clash with anyone else's outfit."

The conference room fell silent for a few seconds.

Then He Xiao was the first to slam the table: "This is good! Our cars must have Chinese design, and the clothes should have a Chinese look too!"

Li Ping'an smiled.

This is the atmosphere he wanted to see— not a report, but a clash; not each fighting alone, but mutual inspiration.

He looked at Zhou Wenbin: "What about the bank side?"

Zhou Wenbin stood up, took a report out of his briefcase, but instead of reading it directly, he walked to the window and pointed toward the faintly visible direction of Hong Kong.

"Last year, Wanxiang Bank's Hong Kong branch attracted deposits of 800 million Hong Kong dollars and issued loans of 500 million. But that isn't the most important part."

He turned, his gaze sharp, "Our layout in the Soviet Union has already begun to feed back home—through debt swaps we have introduced 170,000 tons of special steel, 80,000 tons of fertilizer, and 4,000 tons of aluminum ingots. More importantly…"

He walked back to the table, lowering his voice: "We have opened three stable material channels. Over the next three years, they will at least ensure a continuous supply of urgently needed raw materials domestically."

Ma Guotao continued: "Wanxiang Mining purchased two iron‑ore exploration rights in Australia and signed a copper‑mining cooperation intent in Africa."

Chen Qiming nodded: "The oil company has set up an office in the Middle East; although it can only trade now, it is already reaching out to drilling‑service business."

Li Ping'an slowly stood up.

He walked to the massive floor‑to‑ceiling window, his back to the crowd, and gazed at the wildly expanding city outside.

In the distance, crane towers stood like a forest; nearby, traffic wove like fabric.

"In 1958, when I was Head of the Security Department at the Steel Rolling Mill, Wang Dahu was my soldier." He suddenly recalled the past, his voice calm, "Back then our country couldn't even build a proper bicycle. The machine tools in the workshop were still old antiques left over from the Republic era."

Wang Dahu straightened his back at the doorway.

"In the ten years since reform and opening, we started with hotels and antique shops, and now we have cars, computers, home appliances, clothing and footwear, banks, mining, oil… like a big stew."

Li Ping'an turned, his gaze sweeping over everyone, "But the stew isn't enough. Times are changing, markets are changing; we must shift from 'do whatever we have' to 'do whatever we should.'"

He returned to the head seat, his hands braced on the table.

"I called everyone here today for one purpose—establishing the Wanxiang Holding Group."

The conference room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

"The group will have seven major business divisions."

Li Ping'an quickened his pace, each word like a nail, "First, the Automotive and Machinery Division, headed by He Xiao, integrating all vehicle, agricultural machinery, and construction equipment businesses."

He Xiao nodded heavily.

"Second, the Electronics and Communications Division, led by Xu Jiaming, covering computers, BP pagers, mobile phones, and all future electronic consumer products."

Xu Jiaming adjusted his glasses.

"Third, the Home Appliance Division, overseen by Zheng Guodong, including refrigerators, air conditioners, washing machines— all white‑goods."

Zheng Guodong smiled and took a sip of tea.

"Fourth, the Textile and Apparel Division, headed by Zhou Huaming, clothing, shoes, hats, and later our own brand."

Zhou Huaming's eyes lit up.

"Fifth, the Technology R&D Division, led by Zhang Wei, with the Nanshan R&D Center operating independently and funding directly from the group. I want you, within three years, to produce tangible results in core technologies such as chips, lithography machines, and smartphones."

Zhang Wei took a deep breath.

"Sixth, the Finance and Investment Division, headed by Zhou Wenbin, covering Hong Kong banks, domestic and overseas investments, and capital operations."

Zhou Wenbin gave a slight nod.

"Seventh, the Resources and Trade Division, jointly overseen by Ma Guotao and Chen Qiming, handling mining, oil, and international trade."

The two exchanged a glance and nodded simultaneously.

"The remaining people also have assignments."

Li Ping'an looked at the others, "Chen Jianghe, the supermarkets and foreign‑trade company you're in charge of will be merged into the group's commerce division; you'll be general manager. He Yuzhu, the Tan family's old‑taste will be accounted for separately and later become a chain. Wang Dahu, the security company will be upgraded to the group's security department, and you will also serve as its head."

He paused, his voice softening: "Li Yaozong, you will be my special assistant, learning from me how to run this big family."

Li Yaozong rose solemnly: "Yes."

"Finally, two matters." Li Ping'an raised a finger, "First, each division's finances will be independently accounted, but major investments must be approved by the group. You are regional officials, but don't forget the court still exists."

Someone chuckled lightly.

"Second, and most important." He raised a second finger, "Our group does not practice family‑style management. The capable rise, the mediocre fall. If my son fails, I'll personally make him leave. If your children want to join, they must start from the grassroots."

The words were heavy, but everyone heard the resolve.

The meeting lasted until dusk.

The setting sun turned Shenzhen Bay golden‑red, and through the floor‑to‑ceiling window poured into the conference room, coating everyone with a layer of light.

When the meeting adjourned, He Xiao pulled Zhang Wei aside to discuss the engine issue; Xu Jiaming and Zheng Guodong argued "technology first or market first"; Zhou Huaming clung to Shen Wenyuan demanding to see more design drafts; Zhou Wenbin and Chen Jianghe whispered about the details of foreign‑trade settlement…

Li Ping'an was the last to leave the conference room.

He walked to the edge of the rooftop and lit a cigarette.

In the distance, countless household lights lit up one after another.

In those lights were the lamps produced by his factories, the machine tools operated by his workers, the materials delivered by his trucks, and the capital flowing through his banks.

This massive commercial empire started from a single hotel and, within a few years, grew into a towering tree.

But Li Ping'an knew the real challenge had only just begun.

Domestic market competition was becoming increasingly fierce, international giants were eyeing us, technical bottlenecks were like a lump in the throat, and management difficulty was rising exponentially…

"Dad." Li Yaozong walked to his side, "Mom just called, saying the foundation received another seventeen requests for assistance from veteran retirees. She asked if you'll come home for dinner tonight; Xiao Zhen has simmered soup."

Li Ping'an stubbed out the cigarette: "I'll return. Tell Mom the applications are all approved."

He gave the city's lights one last glance.

Then he turned and walked toward the elevator.

In its wake, the spring breeze of 1990 was sweeping grandly across the South Sea shore.

And Wanxiang Holding, this newly forged massive vessel, is about to sound its whistle and head toward deeper blue seas.