Official title: Refused to stay at the university, started his career in a rural town.

At 2:30 p.m., the October sun in Jinghai was still scorching, and Song Jianshan, Zhang Wen, and Yang Fan's group had already arrived at the Xiaolingtong production base.

The production base is located in the development zone on the eastern outskirts of Qinghua District. A white sign with black lettering that reads "Jinghaitongda Communication Equipment Co., Ltd." hangs at the gate. Two iron gates are rusted. The gatekeeper is an old man in his sixties. When he saw the Coaster, he quickly stood up and gave a crooked salute.

The factory manager, surnamed Qiu, was in his early fifties. His gray hair was neatly combed back, and he wore a faded polyester shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing two old burn scars on his exposed forearms.

He stood at the factory gate, his hands clasped together, his knuckles white from gripping them tightly. Behind him were several workshop foremen, all looking tense.

As Song Jianshan got out of the car, Director Qiu quickly came to greet him, wiping his hands on his trousers before extending them: "Mayor Song, welcome, welcome. The conditions are simple, please bear with us."

"Director Qiu, don't be nervous, we're here today to take a look." Song Jianshan shook his hand and turned to introduce him.

"This is Mayor Zhang Wen of Pingzhou City, and this is County Magistrate Yang Fan of Ninghe County, Handong County."

Director Qiu shook hands with everyone, but when he shook hands with Yang Fan, he paused for a moment, probably because he didn't expect this county magistrate to be so young and a deputy.

But he didn't have time to think about it and quickly led the people into the workshop.

Meng Dehai, who was walking behind, was a little depressed. At noon, he was called back by Song Jian, the director of the Public Security Bureau, to give an urgent report on a criminal gang involved in organized crime.

Because it involved the mayor of a town below, Song Jian needed his authorization and to communicate with the Discipline Inspection Commission, so he went back.

So he missed lunch. In such a short lunch break, he actually missed the chance to have lunch at the same table as Mayor Song Jianshan. He was so upset!

What a great opportunity to show off! But it was all gone because of this trip that took less than an hour to go and come back!

Song Jian! You really are a good subordinate of mine!

As everyone walked inside, two production lines were running in the workshop.

The first line was an old-fashioned plug-in line, with more than twenty female workers sitting in front of the worktable, each with a soldering iron, soldering capacitors one by one onto the circuit board.

The rosin fumes rose from each workstation and were drawn out by the overhead exhaust fans, but they still made people's eyes sting.

The second line is the assembly line, where circuit boards coming off the plug-in line are put into plastic housings, screwed on, labeled, and packed into color boxes.

As he walked, Director Qiu spoke, his voice brimming with excitement.

"Mayor Song, Mayor Zhang, County Chief Yang, our PHS terminal production technology was imported from Japan and officially went into production last March. We currently have two production lines, 112 workers, and produce 300 PHS terminals per day. In the first three quarters of this year, we shipped 60,000 units to three cities along the Han River."

He pointed to the female worker who was engrossed in soldering capacitors on the plug-in line.

"These are the first batch of workers we recruited. Now, each worker can weld 300 boards a day, with a defect rate of less than 0.3%."

Song Jianshan nodded and stood in front of the female worker's workstation for a while.

Factory Director Qiu then led the man to the end of the assembly line, picked up a white mobile phone from the finished product shelf, and handed it to Song Jianshan with both hands.

"Mayor Song, look, this is our finished product. Its appearance, craftsmanship, call quality, and standby time are no worse than those made in Japan. Last month, the provincial quality inspection center came to conduct a random inspection, and the pass rate was 100%."

Song Jianshan took the machine, examined it from all angles, and then handed it to Zhang Wen, who was standing next to him.

Zhang Wen took it in his hand, weighed it in his hand, said nothing, and then handed it to Yang Fan.

Yang Fan took it, pressed the power button, the screen lit up, and the signal bars were full. He then returned the device to Director Qiu.

Factory Director Qiu put the machine back on the finished product shelf and rubbed his hands together: "Mayors, the biggest problem with our factory right now is that it's too small. We only have two production lines and about a hundred people. At most, we can only produce 100,000 units a year."

"But the market demand is huge. Last month, the operators in Ningchuan called to urge delivery, saying that their base stations were already set up, but the terminals couldn't keep up."

He hesitated for a moment, then lowered his voice: "To add another production line, I mortgaged my house and borrowed from all my relatives, scraping together 900,000 yuan. But that's not enough; just one SMT placement line costs over 2 million yuan."

He looked up at Song Jianshan and said, "Mayor Song, I'm not complaining. I just want to say that this product has a market and a future. As long as the government can give us some support and help us scale up the business and reduce costs, profits will come."

Song Jianshan didn't answer immediately. He walked to the workshop window, looked at the two vans being loaded in the yard, and remained silent for a few seconds before speaking: "Old Qiu, how much do you know about the technology in this industry?"

"Technology..." Director Qiu rubbed his hands together.

"The technology is licensed from Japan. For every machine we produce, we have to pay them 18% in patent fees. The chip, protocol stack, and base station control software—these three core components all belong to them."

Zhang Wen put his hands behind his back and looked at the workers in the workshop who were engrossed in their work. Their gloves were worn out, they were smoking rosin, and they worked more than ten hours a day. The patent fees they paid to Japan in a year were more than the total annual wages of the entire factory.

He turned his gaze away, took a few steps to the side, and glanced at Yang Fan: "Yang Fan, what do you think? What are the prospects and problems of this factory?"

Yang Fan hadn't said much since entering the workshop; he'd been observing. After thinking for a moment, he spoke, replying in a low voice.

"The prospects are there. The market for PHS phones is currently on the verge of explosive growth."

"Last year, there were less than two million PHS users nationwide, but this year it is expected to exceed eight million, and next year it may reach twenty million."

"There will be an explosive growth in end-user demand. Director Qiu mortgaged his house to add production lines; that's boldness and vision, it's impressive. As long as the scale increases and production costs can be reduced, there will be profit margins per unit."

Factory Director Qiu's eyes lit up, and he was about to say something when Yang Fan continued.

"But the problem is not small either. Now that the factory is expanding production, the profits will look better. But the larger the scale, the more money the Japanese make. For every machine we sell, we have to pay them a patent fee. The workers work overtime, sitting in the rosin smoke for more than ten hours at a time, their fingers are blistered, but in the end, the patent holders take the lion's share of the profits."

Factory Director Qiu's face darkened slightly. The only sounds in the workshop were the hissing of soldering irons and the pine scent of evaporating flux. His words were blunt, but no one objected. Because it was the truth, and everyone present knew it perfectly well.

Zhang Wen leaned against the finished product rack, his fingers tapping lightly on the machine casing. He was silent for a moment, then looked up.

"To be honest with you, Secretary Pei and I are both optimistic about the PHS (Personal Handyphone System) industry. The reason I came to Jinghai this time is to get a feel for it—to see how operators are deploying base stations, how terminal manufacturers are expanding production, and which parts of the upstream and downstream of the industry chain can be brought to Pingzhou."

He withdrew his hand from the shelf.

"But when it comes to technology, there's nothing we can do. It's a fact that we work so hard to cultivate the market, only to have all the money go to others."

Yang Fan looked at him and said, "There's nothing we can do about it. That's just how things are right now. Because of Western blockades and suppression, our civilian technology development has been too slow, but I don't think the gap is so big that we can't catch up."

"If we don't catch up now, we'll become more and more passive as time goes on. Others' technology will be upgraded generation after generation, and their patent network will become denser and denser. In a few years, once the technological gap widens, it won't just be a matter of profits being taken away. The industrial chain that we have worked so hard to build can be cut off by them with just a patent license."

He turned his head and looked at the workers in the workshop who were still working diligently.

"Therefore, if the government's financial situation allows, it should still grit its teeth and support its own high-tech enterprises. The sooner we get this path through, the fewer years we will be held back by others."

Looking around, they realized they were a bit far from the other cadres, and said in a low voice.

"I have already reported this matter to Professor Sun Jiapei of Handong University. He has contacted Huaqi to set up a research lab to see if they can find a technical solution."

Sun Jiapei? Hua Qi?

You're aware of this kind of collaboration?

Zhang Wen's gaze toward Yang Fan became even more ardent. If the conversation in the cafeteria made him think that Yang Fan was an outstanding young cadre, now it seemed that he was exceptionally talented and had a long-term vision. As long as he didn't go astray, he had a bright future ahead of him!

When I get back, I must talk to Secretary Pei about this. We must put this kind of talent on the front lines of their reform efforts!