Chapter 19

Hearing this, Zhang Xiaocheng felt regret that Li Dongling hadn’t joined the Yuanqi Factory, yet he wasn’t truly surprised; Zhou Wenyang, Zhang Ao, and the others looked at Li Dongling, mouths open as if to speak but holding back.

For people of this era, “going into business” was a special term—whether from public institutions, government departments, universities, or ordinary citizens, there were constant news stories of people striking it rich through entrepreneurship.

But most failed to survive the turbulent seas of commerce, sinking beneath the waves—not only earning no money, but drowning in debt, unable to recover for the rest of their lives.

Liu Jiande’s transfer of Li Dongling away from Xicheng Wireless Factory I was a “helping hand,” allowing Li Dongling to use the Yuanqi Factory in Shangguan Town to launch the satellite dish project and earn his first pot of gold; now he was offering a second “helping hand.”

Yet Liu Jiande’s assistance—and what exactly had happened with Qin Fang during his report—Li Dongling would investigate thoroughly, then repay him properly.

As for Li Dongling leaving Wireless Factory I to establish his own company, Zhou Wenyang, Zhang Ao, and the others weren’t surprised; the satellite dish project had been Li Dongling’s idea, from design and technology to sales, almost entirely managed by him alone, merely using Zhang Xiaocheng and the Yuanqi Factory as vessels.

They didn’t know how much Li Dongling would earn from this project, but even they themselves had received substantial bonuses and commissions—how could Li Dongling have earned less?

“Old Li, you’ll have to look out for us from now on—don’t forget the brothers when good opportunities come!”

Zhang Ao still spoke in his usual carefree tone, but after speaking, he added to Li Dongling, “If you ever need me, just say the word.”

Zhang Ao himself also wanted to venture out, especially these past days—leading Fan Xugang and others in the Sales Department, they’d traveled far and wide promoting satellite dishes; though their commissions were substantial, seeing huge sums of money pass through their hands, it was impossible not to be tempted.

If Li Dongling established a company and launched a second project like the satellite dish, following him would mean massive profits—but no one knew for sure, and Zhang Ao still couldn’t bear to give up his satellite dish commissions.

He planned to take Fan Xugang and others to open markets outside the province; with every order sold, he’d earn a hefty commission—leaving now was simply too hard to bear.

Zhou Wenyang looked at Li Dongling; unlike Zhang Ao, he craved stability—he simply couldn’t bring himself to do something so rebellious as leaving a state-owned factory. Though he’d been kicked out of Wireless Factory I, misfortune had turned to fortune: the Yuanqi Factory was far better now, and he’d even become Director of Production, so leaving here to gamble with Li Dongling was unthinkable.

“There’ll be opportunities!”

Li Dongling smiled at Zhang Ao—he knew he’d need Zhang Ao’s help in the future; Zhang Ao truly had a gift for sales: reckless, bold, able to get along with anyone, sharp-witted—in this era, especially before the internet was widespread, no matter what you sold, you needed a sales team.

Selling back then wasn’t just about reading people’s expressions or persisting after rejection—it required handling all kinds of troubles: highway robbers, bandits, thieves—these were common.

Salespeople didn’t just need to sell—they had to survive these dangers; most ordinary people couldn’t handle it.

If you sold goods, you earned huge commissions and lived far more comfortably than ordinary people—but if trouble struck, you could even lose your life.

No matter what Li Dongling did later, he’d need to build his own sales team and distribution channels—even internet ventures like Ma’s Alibaba had survived their toughest early days thanks to teams of salespeople in T-shirts, riding motorcycles or bicycles, knocking door-to-door for orders.

Li Dongling and Zhang Xiaocheng arrived at the office; Li Dongling knew what Zhang Xiaocheng wanted to say and spoke first: “I’ll continue cooperating with the Shangguan Town Yuanqi Factory on the satellite dish project—but from now on, the point of contact will be Dongling Gaokē Company!”

Dongling Gaokē was the company Li Dongling had previously established to sign the agreement with the Yuanqi Factory.

The satellite dish project was now in its explosive phase, bringing Li Dongling massive dividends daily—he could never walk away.

“That’s good—now I can rest easy with your word.”

Hearing this, Zhang Xiaocheng exhaled deeply; though he was factory director, the satellite dish project was entirely Li Dongling’s doing—he was merely running errands. If Li Dongling abandoned it, with the scale of the project now, he truly feared it would collapse.

Vehicles streamed constantly past the Yuanqi Factory’s gates—even at night, the compound glowed brightly; the factory had already switched to two shifts, with workers laboring overtime to assemble satellite dishes, yet supply still couldn’t meet demand.

Especially in nearby Shangzhong and Guizhou, even the provincial capital Xiyuan, distributors had begun testing the market with satellite dishes—the entire Hanxi Province’s satellite dish market was exploding; no matter how many the Yuanqi Factory produced daily, demand far outstripped supply, and out-of-province distributors paid upfront and waited weeks just to receive goods!

In the provincial capital, distributors sold satellite dishes starting at 400 yuan—and still sold out quickly, with no competition; even as prices kept rising, sales remained strong, drawing more and more distributors to fight desperately for stock from the Yuanqi Factory.

The factory already had nearly 60,000 orders queued up; if Zhang Ao and his team opened markets outside the province, the order count could easily double again!

At this point, the Yuanqi Factory had drawn the attention of Shangguan Town and Pingyang City’s municipal government—impossible to ignore. Monthly revenue had surged to nearly 9 million yuan, and next month it might double; had production capacity not limited sales, the factory might have made headlines this year.

The forty acres of land beside the Yuanqi Factory had been specially approved by Shangguan Town and granted to the factory; villagers whose land was requisitioned received several thousand yuan in compensation and were hired as official employees, guaranteed state rations—far better than farming. Had the factory needed more land, surrounding villagers would have gladly given theirs up.

The hired construction team had begun digging foundations and leveling the ground; because payment was prompt, progress was swift. Once the ground was ready, a simple factory building could be erected—by mid-next month, operations could begin to boost satellite dish production.

At month’s end, the Yuanqi Factory distributed its first dividends—Li Dongling received around 600,000 yuan.

Riding his bicycle, Li Dongling passed through the streets and alleys of Pingyang City; bicycles flowed like rivers, pedestrians moved unhurriedly—the pace of life here was still slow.

These streets were both familiar and strange to Li Dongling; they had existed in his memory, later entirely demolished and replaced by towering buildings.

He passed through the Cultural Palace, crowded with men and women, featuring an ice-skating rink—a popular leisure spot—and across the street stood Pingyang’s largest clothing market, bustling every weekend.

Li Dongling arrived at Changqing Road, which in the future would become a hub for Pingyang’s companies; though it lacked the skyscrapers of the future, many local Pingyang firms had already set up offices here, mostly state-owned, with some out-of-town companies establishing branch offices.

As Li Dongling entered Changqing Road and reached No. 25, a young man wearing sunglasses, leaning against a motorcycle, striking a pose while smoking, immediately waved at him.

“You’re Brother Li, right? I’m Gao Peng—call me Old Gao!”

Li Dongling glanced at Gao Peng; Zhang Ao had introduced him, said to be well-connected in Pingyang—any matter involving the municipal government or hard-to-find items, this guy could usually get done; his father worked in the municipal office.

“Zhang Ao and I are brothers—we’re family. I’ll make sure your matter’s taken care of!” Gao Peng patted his chest.

“How’s this building? I scoured all of Pingyang City to find it, just as you asked—it used to be the office building of the old Machinery Factory No. 2, two stories, with several courtyards behind, once used by workers for rest…”