Chapter 499: The Second Five‑Year Plan

January 1, 2005, Shenzhen.

In the early morning, in the conference room on the 38th floor of Wanxiang Dasha, a thin layer of mist clung to the floor‑to‑ceiling windows.

Through the haze, the outline of Fenghuang Mountain in the distance could be seen, looking in the dawn like a giant beast just awakened.

On the long mahogany table were twelve cups of Longjing Tea Tea tea. The tea was freshly brewed, its steam curling upward, condensing into fine white smoke in the cold air. No one sat at the table; only a calligraphic scroll on the wall hung quietly—"When at ease, think of danger," in Li Ping'an's own hand, hanging there for twenty years.

At eight o'clock, the elevator doors opened.

Li Yaozong was the first to step out, wearing a dark‑gray suit without a tie. The 38‑year‑old chairman of Wanxiang Group, his hair was a bit thinner than before, a few fine lines had appeared at the corners of his eyes, but his back was still straight and his stride still steady.

Behind him followed eleven people.

Chen Feng, thirty‑six, head of the Nanshan Engineering Research Center, his lenses were a ring thicker than last year, his white lab coat replaced by a dark‑blue shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbows.

Zhao Ming, thirty‑four, general manager of the Software Division.

Lin Jiawen, forty‑one, president of Wanshang Bank's Hong Kong branch, his suit crisp, leather shoes polished, hair immaculate.

Zhou Yuanhang, thirty‑nine, general manager of the foreign‑trade company.

Also present was He Xiao, head of the automobile group.

The eleven people sat around the long table.

Li Yaozong did not speak immediately.

He took a document from his briefcase and pushed it to the center of the table.

It was a financial report, its cover printed with several numbers:

Global employees: 1,073,821 people

Annual revenue: 102,374,000,000 yuan

Annual profit: 21,847,000,000 yuan

The conference room fell silent for a few seconds.

No one clapped, no one cheered. Those seated, who watch these numbers grow daily, are no longer stirred by the figures themselves.

But everyone knew what those numbers meant.

One million employees.

One hundred billion in revenue.

Twenty billion in profit.

Global market share, over half.

"Everyone," Li Yaozong began, his voice low but each word clear, "this is our fifth year."

He paused.

"Five years ago, my father handed this burden to me. Back then, Wanxiang's revenue was 20 billion, profit 4 billion, and employees twelve ten‑thousand."

He looked around.

"In five years, we've more than quadrupled."

No one spoke.

Chen Feng pushed his glasses and spoke.

"President Li, on the chip side, last year's shipment was 870 million units. Embedded processors, global market share 53 percent. Mobile baseband chips, 47 percent."

Zhao Ming continued: "On the software side, Pangu system installations have surpassed 300 million. Applications in Fenghuang Garden number 47,000."

He Xiao's voice was steady: "The automobile group sold 1,230,000 vehicles last year—buses, trucks, coaches, vans, off‑road vehicles, sedans… the full range."

Lin Jiawen smiled: "On the banking side, assets under management have broken 500 billion. Hong Kong, Singapore, London, New York… all have branches now."

Zhou Yuanhang rubbed his eyes: "The foreign‑trade company's total import‑export volume last year was 320 billion US dollars. Europe, North America, Southeast Asia, Africa… our goods are everywhere."

Others also began to speak in turn.

Home appliances, CNC machine tools, clothing, motorcycles, lithography machines…

Each number was like a brick, building the Wanxiang skyscraper.

Li Yaozong, after listening, nodded.

"In five years, we've run every track once."

He stood up and walked to the window.

Outside the window, Shenzhen had fully awakened. Traffic on Shen Nan Avenue wove like a tapestry, skyscrapers glittered in the sunlight.

In the distance, the cluster of buildings of the Nanshan Engineering Research Center resembled a small city; within its countless windows, countless people were busy at this moment.

He turned.

"Then, where do we run next?"

The conference room fell quiet.

Everyone had pondered this question countless times in their minds.

Five years had passed; from phones to computers, from automobiles to chips, from home appliances to CNC machine tools… it seemed everything possible had been done, and every market that could be captured seemed already taken.

What about the next step?

Chen Feng spoke first.

"President Li, the chip path is still long," he said, his voice carrying the exacting spirit only engineers possess, "Our current processors perform at the level of the international mainstream five years ago. The gap remains five years."

He looked at Li Yaozong.

"Five years, if we can't catch up, we'll keep falling behind."

Zhao Ming added: "Software is the same. The Pangu system runs, but compared with Windows it's still far behind. Applications have increased, but the ecosystem remains theirs. When users replace a computer, their first reaction is still Windows."

He Xiao was silent for a moment.

"On the automotive side, we've caught up on engines, the gearbox is still a bit off. In new energy, others are already racing ahead; we haven't even started."

Lin Jiawen thought for a moment.

"On the banking side, Southeast Asia, Africa, Latin America, and many untapped markets."

Zhou Yuanhang rubbed his eyes.

"Our foreign trade company is still doing traditional trade. We haven't touched e‑commerce yet."

Li Yaozong listened to each of them speak, without interrupting.

He only spoke after everyone had finished.

"Everyone, I recalled a saying my father once told me."

He looked at the characters on the wall.

"He said, running a business is like climbing a mountain. When you reach the mid‑way, the scenery looks nice and you can rest. But if you look up, the summit is still above you."

He walked back to his seat.

"We are now at the mid‑way."

He looked at the people seated.

"Next step, climb to the summit and see the most beautiful view!"

Li Yaozong pulled another document from his briefcase.

The cover bore a few words:

"Wanxiang Group Second Five‑Year Development Plan (2005‑2010)"

He opened the document and read:

"First direction: Chip. Within five years, processor performance will reach international mainstream levels. The process node will go from the current 0.18 µm to 0.13 µm, then to 90 nm."

He looked at Chen Feng.

Chen Feng nodded.

"Second direction: Software. Within five years, the Pangu system will undergo two major upgrades, achieving full GUI optimization, doubling multitasking capability, and supporting mainstream applications."

He looked at Zhao Ming.

Zhao Ming adjusted his glasses.

"Third direction: Automobile. Within five years, we will complete new‑energy vehicle R&D, pursuing both hybrid and pure‑electric paths. Engines and transmissions will be fully domesticated."

He looked at He Xiao.

He Xiao nodded.

"Fourth direction: Lithography machine. Within five years, our own lithography machine must be able to run the 90 nm process."

The conference room fell silent for a second.

Lithography machine.

Everyone present understood the weight of those three words.

It is the heart of chip manufacturing. It is a technology monopolized by the Netherlands, Japan, and the United States for thirty years. It was a forbidden zone that even Zhang Weizai, when he was present, dared not touch lightly.

Chen Feng spoke.

"Mr. Li, the lithography path is harder than chips. Dutch ASML alone holds eighty percent of the global market. The technical threshold is higher than everything we currently produce combined."

Li Yaozong looked at him.

"I know."

He paused briefly.

"But if we don't do it, no matter how good our chips are, they'll just be a wedding dress for others."

He looked at the people present.

"Five years, ten years, twenty years. Whatever we can make, we make. If we fail, we lay the foundation for future generations. If we succeed…"

He did not finish.

But everyone understood.

If we succeed, Wanxiang will no longer be a follower.

If we succeed, Wanxiang will have its own roots.

The meeting ran from eight in the morning to twelve at noon.

Four hours clarified each road for the next five years, one by one.

Chip, Software, Automobile, Lithography machine, New energy, e‑commerce, International market…

Each road has goals, milestones, a person in charge, and a budget.

The final agenda item was R&D investment.

Li Yaozong looked at Chief Financial Officer Lao Sun.

"Uncle Sun, what was last year's R&D investment?"

Lao Sun flipped through the ledger.

"4.7 billion."

"And this year?"

Lao Sun was momentarily stunned.

"The budget hasn't been set yet…"

"I'll decide," Li Yaozong interrupted him. "This year, 8 billion."

Someone in the conference room inhaled a cold gasp.

Eight billion.

Nearly double last year's amount.

"Next year, 10 billion. The year after, 12 billion," Li Yaozong continued, "Within five years, cumulative R&D investment will not be less than 50 billion."

He looked at the people present.

"Science and technology are the primary productive force; research and development is the foundation of technological progress, and capital is the driving force behind R&D!"

"In five years, I want to see results."

No one spoke.

Eight billion, one hundred billion, five hundred billion.

These numbers weigh on everyone's shoulders.

But no one said "can't".

Because they know this is the only way.

When the meeting adjourned, it was already 1 p. m.

In the cafeteria, eleven people gathered around a round table, eating simple boxed meals—two meat dishes, two vegetable dishes, a bowl of soup—just like the ordinary staff downstairs.

Chen Feng took two bites of his rice and suddenly laughed.

"Li Yaozong, did you know? The year Mr. Zhang retired, he told me something."

Li Yaozong looked at him.

"He said the road ahead will be a hundred times harder than before. But the hard road, once traversed, becomes yours."

He paused.

"What you set today is a hundred times harder than I imagined."

Li Yaozong said nothing.

He Xiao muttered beside him, "It's hard, but we must go. If we don't, we stay here, and staying here will sooner or later be surpassed by others."

Zhao Ming pushed his glasses.

"On the software side, I have an idea. Could we make the Pangu system open source, letting programmers worldwide help us write code?"

Li Yaozong thought for a moment.

"We can try, but we must control the pace. We can't open source it and have it copied."

Zhao Ming nodded.

Lin Jiawen spoke up.

"On the banking side, I can lead a technology investment department, investing specifically in promising startups to fill our gaps."

Li Yaozong looked at him.

"What sectors to invest in?"

"New energy, new materials, biotech…" Lin Jiawen thought, "All are matters for ten years from now."

Li Yaozong nodded.

"Do it. Money is not an issue."

After the meal, people gradually dispersed.

Li Yaozong returned to his office alone and sat in the chair his father once occupied.

The sunlight outside the window was just right, illuminating the four characters "Stay Safe, Think of Danger" on the wall.

He recalled the words his father said before leaving.

"Yaozong, remember: the bigger you get, the more careful you must be. The bigger you are, the harder it is to steer."

He looked out the window.

Shenzhen's sky was a deep blue, blue like a freshly laundered silk. In the distance, the outline of Fenghuang Mountain was clearly visible.

At the foot of the mountain lay the city he had built with his own hands.

Above the mountain was the road he had not yet climbed.

He took out his phone and sent his father a text message.

Only six characters:

"Dad, the second five‑year plan has begun."

After sending it, he stood up and walked to the window.

He knew his father was now somewhere in a mountain or by a river, but he also knew his father would certainly see the message.

Because no matter how far he went, his father's eyes had always been watching this place.

Watching this city, watching this road, watching those who still move forward.

3 p. m., Nanshan R&D Center.

Chen Feng stood where Zhang Wei had once stood, in front of a massive whiteboard. The board displayed a diagram crowded with arrows and annotations, like a battle map.

Below, more than three hundred young people were seated.

All were the backbone of the R&D Center, averaging twenty‑nine years old.

"Everyone," Chen Feng began, "this morning the group set the second five‑year plan."

He pointed to the diagram on the whiteboard.

"Chips: within five years, catch up with the international mainstream. Process: from the current 0.18 µm, advance to 90 nm. Performance: from the current 100 MHz, advance to 500 MHz."

The audience was silent for a second.

Then someone raised a hand.

"Chen Feng, can our equipment make 90 nm?"

Chen Feng looked at him.

"Not now."

"Then what do we do?"

Chen Feng pointed to the bottom line on the whiteboard.

"Lithography machine."

He looked at the young faces in the audience.

"Within five years, we must build our own lithography machine. Ninety nanometers, we need to get it to work."

No one spoke.

The words "lithography machine" felt too heavy.

After Chen Feng and the others let the silence pass, he continued.

"I know it's hard. But however hard it is, we must do it."

He paused.

"When General Manager Zhang left, he told me that the road ahead would be a hundred times harder than before. But a hard road, once mastered, becomes ours."

He looked at the audience.

"Now it's our turn to walk this path."

At six p. m., Li Yaozong left the office.

The elevator descended to the first floor, and he suddenly pressed B1.

In the underground parking lot stood the eight‑year‑old old Crown. It was the car his father had driven; the paint was already a bit mottled, but the engine was still fine.

He slipped into the driver's seat and started the car.

With no destination, he just drove along Shen Nan Avenue.

Outside the window, Shenzhen's evening was bustling. Crowds of workers streamed toward the bus stops, street stalls began to set up, and the scent of roasted sweet potatoes drifted through the car‑window cracks.

He drove slowly, as if revisiting something.

When he reached Nantou Pass, he stopped the car and got out.

This place used to be the boundary between Shenzhen and the outside, but the checkpoint has been demolished, leaving only an archway.

He stood beneath the archway, watching the traffic flow back and forth.

Twenty‑five years ago, his father entered Shenzhen from here.

At that time, it was still a wasteland.

Back then, his father was forty‑three, in his prime.

Now, he is thirty‑eight, also in his prime.

He recalled a saying his father often repeated.

"Each generation has its own affairs."

The generation of his father took Wanshang from nothing to something.

His own generation took Wanshang from something to great.

What about the next generation?

He didn't know.

But he knew there would be one.

There would always be people who continue on this path.

Chips. Software. Cars. Lithography machines. New energy. Five hundred billion R&D investment. A road a hundred times harder to walk.

Is it hard?

Hard.

Yet hard it must be walked.

Because if we don't walk, we will stall.

Stopping means being overtaken.

Once overtaken, we can never catch up again.

Li Yaozong returned home and entered the study.

On the desk lay the "Second Five-Year Development Plan."

He turned to the first page and, in the "R&D Investment" column, added another sentence:

"If needed, additional budget may be allocated, with no ceiling."

Then he closed the document, stood up, and walked to the window.

Outside, Shenzhen's night was deepening.

In the distance, the lights of Nanshan R&D Center shone like a field of stars.

He pulled out his phone and sent a text to Chen Feng:

"Don't fear the lithography machine. Money isn't an issue. If we lack people, recruit. As long as the direction is right, keep moving. One day we'll catch up!"