Rebirth: Fan Debiao rises from the Liaobei land

At 7 p.m. that evening, Manager Zhou called.

"Mr. Fan, Mr. Qin would like to see you here. Room 1808, Garden Hotel."

Fan Debiao hung up the phone, put out his cigarette, and went downstairs.

1808 is a suite. In the outer room, there is a set of desks and chairs. President Qin sat behind the desk, with reading glasses on his nose and a thermos of tea next to him.

Manager Zhou stood to the side, with the handwritten clauses from that afternoon spread out on the table.

President Qin didn't look up; his finger was pointing to the fifth line of text.

"In the first and second quarters, the order volume will be 60% of the average monthly sales volume last year."

He lifted his eyelids and looked at Fan Debiao over his reading glasses.

"Xiao Fan," he said, "tell me the truth, have you heard something?"

Fan Debiao sat down opposite him.

"President Qin," he said, "if I had heard any rumors, I wouldn't have come to Guangzhou."

President Qin stared at him for a few seconds.

"Then why did you suppress the output for half a year?"

Fan Debiao remained silent for a while.

"Mr. Qin," he said, "I haven't been in business for very long, but I have a habit—I don't like to join in the fun."

President Qin remained silent.

"Last year, we were out of stock, and everyone else couldn't get their hands on the goods, but I managed to, and I made a profit," Fan Debiao said. "This year, we're still in stock, and everyone else is scrambling to order, but I'm not."

He paused for a moment, then said, "I'm waiting to take over."

President Qin paused for a moment, then smiled.

The smile was brief, fleeting.

"Taking over someone else's business?" He took off his reading glasses. "Whose business are you taking over?"

"I take over the orders from those who can't hold on any longer," Fan Debiao said. "There's always someone who orders three thousand units, can't sell them, runs out of cash, and is in a hurry to dump them. At that time, I have cash flow, so I can take them even if they're selling at cost."

He looked at President Qin: "President Qin, is this logic correct?"

"Xiao Fan, tell me honestly, is this your real condition?" President Qin took off his reading glasses and slowly wiped them with a cloth.

"Xiao Fan, I've been doing this for twenty-seven years," he said. "From landlines to mobile phones, from salesman to deputy general manager of the channel department, I've seen distributors who are easy to talk to, but I've never seen anyone talk like you."

He put down the eyeglass cloth.

"Those four conditions you mentioned earlier—a six-month price lock-in, an 8% rebate, six batches of delivery, and a 15% exchange rate—each one of them, taken individually, goes against the headquarters' policies."

He looked at Fan Debiao.

"But what you really want is the fifth point."

Fan Debiao did not deny it.

President Qin nodded.

"The first four are smokescreens, the fifth is the trump card." He put on his reading glasses. "Right?"

Fan Debiao remained silent for a few seconds.

"President Qin," he said, "if I don't lay out the first four points first, you won't even let me mention the fifth one."

President Qin didn't respond. After a few seconds, the corner of his mouth twitched, but it was hard to tell if it was a smile or not.

"Manager Zhou, give me the pen."

Manager Zhou quickly handed over a pen.

General Manager Qin dragged over the supplementary agreement and added a line of small print after the first clause: "Price lock-in period is 6 months. If the manufacturer adjusts the price by more than 8% within six months, the excess will be negotiated separately by both parties."

He looked up and said, "8% is the maximum; I can't approve anything higher."

Fan Debiao nodded.

Mr. Qin flipped to the second item and added "additional rebate of 2.5%" after "quarterly rebate of 8%".

"You originally wanted 2%, I'll add 0.5% for you," he said. "Settlement will be monthly, and the money will arrive on the 5th of the following month. This is the first such amount in the three northeastern provinces, so don't tell anyone."

Fan Debiao nodded.

President Qin glanced at Articles 3 and 4 but didn't touch them.

He paused when he turned to the fifth item.

"60%..." He hesitated for a few seconds, "...change it to 70%."

Fan Debiao looked at him.

"60% is too low," said General Manager Qin. "If other distributors find out, they'll all try to reduce the sales volume, and I can't control that."

He put down his pen: "70%, an average of 210 units per month. The total for the first half of the year is 1260 units, for the second half it is 2340 units, and for the whole year it is 3600 units."

Fan Debiao remained silent.

"3600 units is the main contract quantity." President Qin paused for a moment, "If you can reach 3780 units—with a 5% increase—I can consider giving you the agency rights for the surrounding counties and cities."

Fan Debiao looked up. "Consider?"

President Qin did not give a direct answer.

"Kaiyuan is a county-level city, so it's only natural for you to expand into the surrounding areas." He picked up his thermos and took a sip. "Tieling, Changtu, Xifeng, Diaobingshan—TCL's distribution channels in these places have never been fully developed. If you can increase the volume, I can persuade headquarters to allocate these areas to you."

He put down the thermos.

"Of course, it's not free. Each county has a minimum quota, and if you don't meet it, your rebate will be deducted."

Fan Debiao remained silent for a few seconds.

"3780 units," he said. "President Qin, you're putting a bridle on me."

President Qin did not respond.

A few seconds later, he took off his reading glasses.

"Xiao Fan," he said, "in business, I give you what you want, and you have to give me what I want in return."

He looked at Fan Debiao.

"You want to hold onto six months' worth of stock? I've given you that. You want price lock-in, rebates, flexible delivery, and guarantees against slow-moving stock? I've given you everything." He paused, "I want 3780 units, that's not unreasonable."

Fan Debiao remained silent.

President Qin pushed the supplementary agreement over.

"Whether you sign or not is up to you."

Fan Debiao picked up his pen.

The pen tip landed above the signature bar and paused for two seconds.

He signed his name.

General Manager Qin took it, glanced at it, and handed it to Manager Zhou: "Stamp and file it. The main contract should be reported to headquarters as 3600, and the supplementary agreement should go through a special channel. The filing level should be limited to A2."

Manager Zhou accepted it with both hands: "Understood."

President Qin stood up, walked out from behind his desk, and stood face to face with Fan Debiao for the first time.

He stretched out his hand.

"Mr. Fan," he said, "it's a pleasure to work with you."

Fan Debiao grasped it.

"It's a pleasure working with you."

8:30 p.m., Guangzhou Restaurant.

Director Li busied himself taking orders, directly instructing the waiter to bring out the menu items. Manager Zhou, sitting to Fan Debiao's right, was much more talkative than during the day and was also drinking more alcohol.

"President Qin has a meeting tonight," Manager Zhou said, filling his glass. "He asked me to pass on a message."

Fan Debiao looked at him.

"He said you're the first distributor he's ever met who talks about policy with the word 'fear'." Manager Zhou raised his glass. "Others talk about 'how much I can achieve,' but you talk about 'I'm afraid the market will decline.'"

He downed the drink.

"Mr. Fan, this toast is for you."

Fan Debiao picked up his teacup and clinked it against his.

After downing half a jin of liquor, Director Li's face was flushed and his tongue was starting to slur.

"Mr. Fan, let me tell you..." He leaned closer, "The people in Tieling had a talk with me this afternoon, asking if the policy had been finalized. I said it had, and Mr. Fan from Kaiyuan had already signed it. They were stunned for a long time, saying they'd come to sign with me tomorrow..."

He chuckled twice.

"And there's that old He from Anshan. He said he'd reduce the quantity this morning, but he changed his mind this afternoon, saying he'd think about it some more..."

Fan Debiao picked up a piece of food with his chopsticks but didn't reply.

While Director Li was still rambling on, Manager Zhou was getting restless and kept checking his watch.

It was almost ten o'clock when the party ended. Fan Debiao declined Manager Zhou's offer to take him home. Standing under the arcade, he lit a cigarette to sober up, then took out his phone and sent a text message to Awei: "Are you asleep?"

The text message was replied to instantly: "No, I'm waiting for your message!"

Fan Debiao grinned foolishly at his phone, "Great news! TCL has won!"

Awei replied, "I wish Birdway all the best tomorrow! Also, drink less alcohol when you're out, and don't participate in any unhealthy activities, or I'll get back at you!"

"Okay!"

It was the tenth day of the first lunar month, at seven o'clock in the morning.

Fan Debiao stood in the departure hall of Baiyun Airport, his boarding pass hidden under his mobile phone.

The phone screen lit up briefly.

Avi's text message: "Have you boarded yet?"

He replied, "Soon."

He paused, then typed another line.

"I brought you something."

After sending it, he flipped his phone over, placing the screen face down on his boarding pass.

An announcement came over the loudspeaker: "Attention passengers traveling to Ningbo..."

10:30 a.m., Ningbo Lishe Airport.

As soon as Fan Debiao exited the terminal, he spotted Zhou Mingyuan.

Zhou Mingyuan was wearing a gray jacket, and his hair was longer than when I saw him before the Lunar New Year, as he hadn't had time to style it. He stood in the crowd of people picking up passengers and saw Fan Debiao come out, so he hurried a few steps closer.

"President Fan."

Fan Debiao shook hands with him.

Zhou Mingyuan drove himself out of the airport avenue. On both sides were factories and farmland typical of Ningbo. In early February in Jiangnan, the rapeseed in the fields had not yet bloomed and was a grayish-green color.

Zhou Mingyuan remained silent.

Fan Debiao didn't ask.

Twenty minutes after the car entered the highway, Zhou Mingyuan finally spoke.

"Mr. Fan," he said, gripping the steering wheel and looking ahead, "Birdway will also be following suit this year."

Fan Debiao did not respond.

"Purchase prices have been raised, retail prices have been capped, and the minimum order amount has been increased by 50%." Zhou Mingyuan paused, "The policies are even stricter than those for TCL."

Fan Debiao lit a cigarette and rolled down the car window a crack.

Zhou Mingyuan glanced at him in the rearview mirror.

"Also," he lowered his voice, "regarding the direct supply issue I mentioned to you last time, someone suggested that county-level cities are not qualified for direct supply and can only obtain secondary policies by affiliating with provincial agents—the purchase price is 3% to 5% higher than direct supply, and the allocation ratio for best-selling models is 15% lower."

Fan Debiao paused in his smoking, "The spring breeze in February is like a pair of scissors, President Zhou, and your first cut has landed on me."