Volume One: Emerging from the Wilderness Chapter 9: Offering Counsel and Strategy

Time flies; in the blink of an eye, I have been working for over a year. Throughout this time, my tasks have been simple and menial—fetching tea, handling orders and invoices, running errands, delivering goods. Yet, I have not lost heart. I have conscientiously done every task well and treated others with sincerity. Both Zhou Dezhi and Zhang Chi have gradually changed their attitudes toward me, becoming friendlier compared to when I first joined the factory. As for Lin Xiaolong, taking advantage of being my "mentor," he still bossed me around, but I said nothing and continued to fulfill every requirement he set. However, he did not allow me access to core customer information, and he seldom took me on business trips anymore.

While performing these menial duties, I also paid attention to gathering information—recording data from delivery notes and invoices, analyzing product types, quantities, price comparisons, and trends. I listened attentively during meetings in the department and office, noting key points, gradually gaining a general understanding of their work.

From this information, I began to identify several problems in the factory’s sales and procurement. Sales were divided between within the province and outside areas. Provincial sales were handled directly by the sales department to mostly manufacturing clients. Outside the province, sales were limited to five provinces, all conducted through local agents. The prices offered to agents were about 10-15% lower than provincial prices, with shipments sent first and payments collected after agents’ sales. Each product had only one general agent per province, and some provinces had a single agent handling all factory products. Currently, outside-province sales accounted for about one-third of total sales—a relatively small proportion.

Though this agency model appeared to save sales expenses on the surface, a significant portion of the profits was captured by agents, increasing the factory’s capital occupation costs. There was also the issue of “gray market” goods, where some agents sold factory products into our own Huajiang Province despite regional restrictions. Though not widespread, this affected the provincial market and disrupted the factory’s pricing structure. I heard Zhou Dezhi complain about this repeatedly.

On the procurement side, suppliers were relatively fixed and seldom changed. While this stabilized supply channels, the lack of competition and comparative selection mechanisms left the factory passive in price negotiations, often at the mercy of supplier pricing, increasing procurement costs. Apparently, this caused considerable friction between the production planning and supply-sales departments, with the former often accusing the latter of overpaying for raw materials.

In sales, everyone still relied on habits from the planned economy era—depending entirely on existing customers and waiting for them to come, as I observed in my department and the other two sales sections. None were proactive in developing new clients or markets, preferring to sit in offices reading newspapers and drinking tea rather than venture out.

Once, an out-of-province client called to inquire about purchasing our products. I asked Lin Xiaolong what to do; he took the call and told the client to contact the local agent. Another time, a manufacturer from a province without an agent called, and Lin told him to contact an agent in a neighboring province.

From my year-long observations and analysis, due to the number of domestic manufacturers producing similar products, we were losing some clients, although some still came voluntarily. This loss had not yet raised alarm.

I gradually pondered these issues, their causes, and possible solutions, increasingly convinced that Factory Director Gao’s warning of “peril all around” was justified. I felt a slight pride in uncovering these problems but more so a deep concern, for I genuinely hoped the factory would prosper.

The recognition from Xiang Xiulan’s mother and my not being outright rejected might hinge partly on her approval of my workplace. To meet her conditions, it seemed I had no choice but to strive within this factory; without it, I might be nothing.

Though the chances of fulfilling her demands seemed slim, even a glimmer of hope compelled me to give my all, to be true both to Xiulan and to myself. The slogan painted on the mountain wall along the path from the factory dormitories to the workshop—“Factory prospers, I prosper; Factory honors, I honor”—ceased to be hollow words and became part of my very being.

I constantly focused on and reflected upon these factory issues. My thoughts coalesced into a set of problems and feasible remedies. I decided it was time to seize an opportunity and present these suggestions.

One evening, Diao Youhua unusually stayed in the dormitory instead of going out and unexpectedly approached me for casual talk about basketball. We discussed the World Trade Organization established earlier this year, sensing global economic shifts and trends toward globalization. We talked about the recent founding of the China-Korea joint venture bank, noting our country’s increasing openness. We also touched on this year’s college graduates fully choosing their jobs with mutual selection, marveling at the depth of our national reforms and feeling fortunate not to be graduating this year, uncertain about our own employment prospects if we were.

Diao Youhua then mentioned some factory problems he perceived, which seemed superficial to me. My confidence swelled. When he said, “Dongshan, your way of analyzing and viewing problems impresses me. What do you think are the current issues in the factory?” I poured out all my recent thoughts—the problems, causes, and proposed solutions—like beans spilling from a bamboo tube.

Diao Youhua listened quietly and seriously, making me feel respected and validated. After I finished, he said, “Graduates from top universities truly stand out; these issues you’ve pointed out are spot on.” His praise made me feel elated, as if my hard thinking had not been in vain. If these suggestions were submitted, they might create a stir.

However, reality seldom aligns with our hopes. What followed was a harsh lesson in society and human nature’s ugliness. The cost of this lesson was steep enough to shake my faith in society and even my life’s path.

The next week, I saw a factory notice announcing an event titled “Contribute a Suggestion for Factory Development,” jointly organized by the factory office, party-mass work department, and the factory youth league committee. The event called on the factory’s youth league members and young employees to actively submit ideas and suggestions for the factory’s progress. I was thrilled—it seemed to be the opportunity I had awaited. Although I was not a youth league member, I was a party member from university and still counted as youth. At last, a chance to shine was mine, I thought.

I began preparing immediately. After dinner, back in the dormitory ready to write, Diao Youhua approached me.

“Dongshan, did you see the notice for the ‘Contribute a Suggestion’ event?”

I paused, uncertain of his intent.

“I’ve already submitted mine. You should hurry up too,” he said. I was surprised at his speed.

“Thanks to you—I slightly edited the sales problem suggestions you gave me last week and submitted them,” he added.

I was stunned. “Wait, you submitted my suggestion?”

“Yeah, I thought your ideas were excellent. You’ve got plenty of suggestions; why not submit others too? Your procurement ideas are good. I’m no good at this—couldn’t think of anything worthwhile. To thank you, I’ll treat you to dinner tomorrow.”

I felt furious. Diao Youhua had acted without my consent, even boasting about it. Was he afraid I’d submit the same suggestion and embarrass him? Fine, I’d write it anyway and see what he could do!

But then I realized he submitted first, and their office was one of the organizers. If a contest broke out, I might lose. Perhaps he felt secure for that reason.

I wanted to lash out but hesitated, knowing that living with Diao Youhua long-term made open conflict undesirable. Such is the tragedy of good people: bad people fear no quarrel and stop at nothing, while good people always hold back, hoping to repay evil with kindness. The wicked never understand the good, just as the good cannot fathom the depths of evil—a reason why good people often suffer.

The next day, Diao Youhua did treat me to a meal at the finest restaurant near the factory. He generously ordered the signature dishes and wanted to bring wine, but I persuaded him otherwise. During the meal, he kept expressing his gratitude. I thought my months of contemplation had earned at least this much. Yet, as he praised me, my resentment faded. I am no saint, merely a worldly person, and worldly people seldom resist flattery.

Afterward, I regretted agreeing not to submit the sales suggestion. I felt I lacked principles, but words once spoken cannot be taken back. Being indebted to others is natural; what else could I do?

Having given up on the sales suggestion, I focused on procurement. I refined my ideas over two nights, revising repeatedly until satisfied. Still, lacking familiarity and data compared to sales, I felt uncertain. I sought someone to review it but found no suitable person initially. Eventually, I privately showed it to Hu Yue.

Unexpectedly, Hu Yue found me urgently and said, “Xiao Wang, have you submitted this?”

“Not yet, Hu Jie. Why?” I asked, puzzled.

She sighed deeply and warned, “Don’t submit it. It’ll cause big trouble. You’re too young to grasp how deep the waters run. The problems you mention—everyone knows them. Why hasn’t anyone spoken up? Because the higher-ups,” she pointed at the ceiling, “if they wanted these issues raised, someone would have done it by now. Don’t be foolish.”

I thought Hu Yue was overly cautious. I recalled Factory Director Gao’s “peril all around” remark during orientation—he seemed someone willing to face problems directly. From what I knew, he was broad-minded; otherwise, he wouldn’t have launched this event to encourage problem-finding. If no substantial issues were raised, the event would be meaningless.

Still, Hu Yue had always been kind to me, and I believed she meant well. So, I said, “Okay, Hu Jie, I’ll listen to you.”

She seemed unconvinced and fixed me with a gaze. “Remember what I said.”

I agreed, though with lingering hesitation.

For two days, I wavered. Hu Yue’s words weighed on me, and I wasn’t fully satisfied with the suggestion—it seemed inferior to my sales proposal. Yet, I had no other ideas, and the deadline approached. Not submitting felt wrong; the factory valued our university cohort. If others submitted and I did not, would leaders see me as unenthusiastic or problematic?

Then Lin Xiaolong arranged a business trip to a neighboring province to resolve a client’s product quality issue. I thought I’d decide about submission during the trip.

Unexpectedly, the trip extended an extra day, and upon return, the deadline had passed. I felt regret but also relief—no longer torn over submitting or not. Perhaps fate intervened. Lin Xiaolong immediately assigned me various chores, distracting me from the draft’s fate.

Yet the next day, Hu Yue quietly pulled me aside when few were around and asked in a low voice, “Didn’t you say not to submit the procurement material? Why did you submit it?”

“I haven’t submitted it,” I replied, puzzled.

“Not yet? The news is already out. Don’t lie to me.” She left, annoyed.

I was even more confused. I hadn’t submitted anything. Why was she so certain? And what did she mean by “the news is out”?

At noon, I searched my dorm thoroughly for the draft but couldn’t find it. I recalled reviewing it the night before the trip, using a pen holder to weigh it down on my desk. How could it be missing?

That evening, I asked Diao Youhua if he’d seen the document. He casually said, “You mean your suggestion? Since you hadn’t returned and the deadline was near, I submitted it for you. No need to thank me—you’ve helped me a lot, and I’m in charge of collecting submissions. Helping you was just a small favor.”

I was speechless. He had submitted my suggestion without my consent. Though his explanation sounded reasonable, I felt manipulated.

Still, I thought maybe he was acting with good intentions and gratitude. Would I seem petty if I got angry over such a minor matter? Submission was done, completing a task, and at least leaders wouldn’t think I was uncooperative. As for the content, Factory Director Gao should appreciate it. I relaxed and even joked with Diao Youhua.

About two weeks later, the “Contribute a Suggestion” summary and commendation meeting took place in the large conference room on the fourth floor of the factory office building. Factory Director Gao personally attended and spoke. The deputy party secretary, office director, personnel director, party-mass work director, youth league secretary, all youth league members, and some employees under 35 were present.

I sat near the back, while Diao Youhua occupied a seat near the middle of the second row. I felt a pang of disappointment but quickly composed myself and focused on the leaders’ speeches.

Director Gao began by explaining the event’s purpose, significance, and overall suggestions received, then continued:

“Youth are the factory’s hope and future. Reform and development depend on youth, as does vitality. The party committee has always valued youth work. This event has yielded excellent results, with many young people daring to think and strive, achieving in practice. More importantly, they do not follow routine or cling to convention but boldly explore and think critically. These are the qualities outstanding young people must have and what our factory needs most now.

Regarding the suggestions received, I have read them all carefully. Most are very reasonable, especially some that closely align with the factory’s realities, accurately diagnosing problems and proposing practical solutions. Though some details need refinement, the overall quality is commendable. This shows these comrades have harnessed youthful energy, courage, and sharpness, revealing real talent among our young people. It also proves the effectiveness of the party committee’s recent youth talent cultivation plans and gives me hope for the factory’s future.

For these daring and capable young people, the party committee will further nurture them by placing them in key posts and tasks to promote growth. We will continue youth talent cultivation plans, bringing in and training young talents, giving those eager to work platforms, those able to work opportunities, and those who work well careers.

Of course, while the factory provides space and opportunities, whether one succeeds depends mainly on oneself and what kind of person one aspires to be. We cannot expect all young people to succeed; if most do, I will be satisfied.”

At this point, Director Gao’s tone grew serious, voice rising:

“However, compared to the majority of diligent and earnest young workers, a very few are not focused on steady work but on scheming and shortcuts—not on dedication but on comparing benefits.” Several glances shot toward me. Surely, he was not referring to me? Impossible.

He continued: “They do not concentrate on their duties, but criticize others’ work, seek attention, and show off. Their work is superficial; they view problems superficially, ignoring essence and roots. They disregard the factory’s achievements and disparage years of accumulated experience and systems.” Diao Youhua turned to look at me, followed by more people, as if all were convinced I was the subject. The pressure was immense.

I heard Director Gao go on: “We do not know if this is a work style issue or ill intent. The factory once held high hopes, gave special treatment and opportunities to these individuals, but they consider themselves superior as university graduates—arrogant, contemptuous, ungrateful, and never satisfied. They have betrayed the factory’s nurturing and become negative examples for youth, sounding a warning for our youth talent development work.”

The term “university graduates” clearly pointed in my direction. As more eyes turned to me, I nearly lost my composure; my head buzzed. The rest of Director Gao’s speech blurred into the background amid my panic. I only caught the start of awards. Diao Youhua received the event’s sole first prize.

The End.