National Tide 1980.

"Hey comrade, do you know where Leningrad and Stalingrad are? I can't find those two names on the map anymore..."

"It's gone, forever gone. We've lost. The White bandits and capitalists are riding on our heads again. If you still want to follow that red star, head east, cross the Dnieper River, climb the Ural Mountains, and at the edge of the Siberian Plain, there still burns a spark that has never been extinguished..."

At the end of 1991, a dramatic change that would completely reshape the world order suddenly descended.

On the evening of December 25, while Americans were immersed in the joy of Christmas, Gorbachev presented the world with a "gift" that shocked the world.

He publicly announced to the world that he was resigning from all his posts and formally transferring all state power to Russian President Yeltsin.

On this day, the red flag that had been fluttering in the cold wind for many years above the Kremlin fell sadly, and in its place rose the red, white and blue tricolor flag representing Russia.

From then on, the world order was completely rewritten, and the era of a unipolar world dominated by the United States officially began.

That red giant, which once held back the Nazi horde with its steel torrent and instilled fear in the entire Western capitalist world, ultimately collapsed due to poverty and scarcity of resources.

The Republic has maintained a high level of close attention to this outcome.

Since the dramatic changes in Eastern Europe in 1989, China has keenly sensed that the former "big brother" has already shown signs of defeat and demise.

This period was also the most difficult and crucial stage in my country's reform and opening-up process.

At that time, the losses of state-owned enterprises in China had become alarmingly severe.

Like its former elder brother, the entire nation is facing a life-or-death test posed by the times, with the road ahead full of unknowns and challenges.

In Greek mythology, the Sphinx, a monster, would perch at crossroads and stump passersby with riddles; those who could not answer the riddles would be devoured.

Our northern neighbor gave the wrong answer, ultimately suffering a tragic end of being torn apart and disintegrated.

The Chinese nation, with its 1.15 billion people, has lost its partner for progress and must now explore its own path and find its own correct answer.

Exactly one month before the collapse of the Soviet Union, on November 25, 1991, the Shanghai brand sedan, which had accompanied the Chinese people for many years, officially ceased production.

In the early days of reform and opening up, this car was a symbol of status and prestige. Only cadres at the county or regimental level and above were qualified to ride in it, and ordinary people and private enterprises had no right to buy it.

It once stood shoulder to shoulder with the Hongqi sedan, becoming one of the two major national automobile brands of the Republic and a symbol of an era.

Ten years ago, Hongqi cars were temporarily suspended from production, and this year, Shanghai cars finally followed suit.

This event serves as a somber symbol—after thirteen years of reform and opening up, a large number of state-owned enterprises that cling to traditional models and are unwilling to innovate have undoubtedly reached the brink of collapse.

But as the old saying goes, troubled times produce heroes.

As the giants of the old era crumble, new trendsetters are bound to rise in response.

During a special period marked by social and economic turmoil and the growing pains of transformation, this group of people ventured into the business world and made significant contributions in a completely new and unique way. They not only injected fresh vitality into the stagnant national economy but also stirred up a huge wave of public opinion.

Mu Qizhong, the man who created a classic case of "getting something for nothing" in the 1990s, traces the origin of all his wealth myths back to his journey from Wanxian, Sichuan to Beijing in 1989.

On the train, he met a fellow Henan native who told him that the Soviet Union was selling a batch of Tu-154 aircraft, but had been unable to find a buyer.

No one can say for sure how Mu Qizhong planned it. At that time, his Nande Company had no funds, no channels, and no qualifications, but he was determined to do this transnational business with the Soviet Union. In the end, he actually succeeded.

His initial idea was very straightforward: to become a cross-border reseller, first acquire Soviet aircraft, then resell them to domestic buyers and earn the price difference.

Through his efforts in networking and establishing connections, he successfully found both suppliers and buyers.

However, a problem arose: a Tu-154 aircraft is worth about 60 million yuan, which Nande simply could not afford to pay in full.

If an ordinary person were faced with this deadly situation of having no rice to cook, they would probably rack their brains until their hair turned white and still not be able to come up with a solution.

However, Mu Qizhong took a different approach. He relied on his local connections in Sichuan and joined forces with local state-owned enterprises to integrate the supply of goods. He gathered a large number of unsold and stockpiled daily necessities and planned to barter them to complete the transaction.

What's most amazing is his negotiating skills.

When receiving officials from the Soviet Ministry of Aviation Industry, he specifically chose the Diaoyutai State Guesthouse in the capital as the venue. Before the negotiations began, he also specifically informed them that this was the place where Gorbachev had met with the leaders of the Republic.

Upon hearing this, Soviet officials were immediately filled with respect.

Thus, this deal, which seemed like a pipe dream to outsiders, was successfully finalized.

The two sides eventually agreed that the Soviet Union would provide four complete Tu-154 aircraft, plus one set of aircraft parts.

Mu Qizhong then prepared 500 wagons of living supplies for exchange at equivalent value, and the Soviet side would not interfere with the specific types of goods.

Since the Soviet Union was not picky about the goods, the shrewd Mou Qizhong would naturally choose the goods with the lowest cost.

His first shipment consisted of thermos bottle liners—hollow, bulky items that were extremely cheap. A whole trainload of dozens of cars cost no more than seven million yuan.

That's not all. The first airplane he received in exchange for the goods he had originally acquired through negotiation was mortgaged to the bank, which directly solved the funding problem for all subsequent transactions.

After that, he sent canned goods, leather clothing and other stockpiled daily necessities to the Soviet Union.

Years later, Ju Mouqizhong recounted that Wang Shi, who was then engaged in corn trading in Shenzhen, not only supplied him with canned beef, but also made him a net profit of 160 million yuan from this cross-border transaction he completed in 1991.

This is the legendary story of "canned food for airplanes" that shocked the whole country after the reform and opening up.

Needless to say, Mu Qizhong became famous overnight because of this.

A magazine called Fortune named him the "top super-rich man in mainland China," and he became the first publicly recognized "richest man in the country."

However, the unprecedented success fostered excessive confidence, and Mu Qizhong was no longer willing to operate his business in a down-to-earth manner. Instead, he launched a series of wildly imaginative and outlandish plans.

For example, he proposed to develop Manzhouli into a "small port city in the north," and to invest US$3.1 billion to purchase an aircraft carrier for the national navy. Among his most well-known initiatives was his proposal to blast a 50-kilometer-wide and more than 2,000-meter-deep gap in the Himalayas to allow warm and humid air currents from the Indian Ocean to enter the northwest inland and improve the local climate and ecology.

In the end, none of his plans amounted to more than mere wishful thinking that circulated in the public consciousness.

Unlike the world-renowned Mu Qizhong, there was another person who kept a very low profile, just like Ning Weimin, who seized the opportunities of the times and made a fortune.

What's particularly incredible is that this person's understanding of the underlying logic of modern capital operations is even more sophisticated than Ning Weimin's, which is undoubtedly a gift.

He is Yang Rong, who was born in 1957.

Yang Rong's early life was shrouded in mystery.

After graduating from junior high school, he worked as a chef and also ran a small shop.

But at some point, he obtained a doctorate in economics from a university and even claimed to have military and combat experience.

He was known for his unconventional thinking and wild, unruly personality. A reporter once described him as follows: "Even if he only had 200,000 yuan left and was about to declare bankruptcy tomorrow, he could still treat you to a banquet costing 100,000 yuan without batting an eye." In 1989, Yang Rong founded a finance company in Hong Kong, mainly engaged in client lending and also in bond and stock trading, thus accumulating his first pot of gold.

Like Mu Qizhong, Yang Rong also keenly perceived that the capital reform of state-owned enterprises was an excellent opportunity to seize the wealth of the times.

Soon after, he learned that a car factory in Shenyang had issued 100 million yuan worth of shares since 1988, but more than a year later, the shares were still unsold and had serious sluggish sales.

At that time, the domestic automobile industry was in a difficult situation, the market was generally pessimistic, and everyone avoided it. However, Yang Rong was able to seize the opportunity and act decisively.

In 1991, he spent $12 million to acquire a 40% stake in the Shenyang Automobile Factory.

Subsequently, through a series of complex operations such as establishing a joint venture and equity swaps, the shareholding ratio was increased to 51%, making it the absolute controlling party.

Moreover, in order to legally avoid taxes, he did not hold shares in his personal name, but registered a project company in Bermuda in the Pacific Ocean, and achieved controlling interest through this offshore company.

In 1992, this offshore company became the first Chinese concept stock to be listed on the New York Stock Exchange. Prior to that, no enterprise from a socialist country had ever achieved overseas listing.

Yang Rong not only made history, but also, with its "unprecedented" gimmick, the company was oversubscribed 35 times on the New York Stock Exchange, successfully raising $75 million overseas.

Subsequently, through a series of ingenious capital operations, he created several companies listed in New York, Hong Kong, and Shanghai, in addition to a large number of unlisted affiliated companies, and his business empire expanded rapidly.

To be honest, putting aside their vastly different business practices, Mu Qizhong and Yang Rong are essentially the same kind of people.

They all accurately grasped the opportunities presented by the country's economic transformation, and with their extraordinary courage and keen business acumen, they firmly seized the opportunities of the times.

Their methods are highly controversial, like snatching chestnuts from a raging fire or surfing in a raging sea, combining a gambling spirit with boldness.

The two men's fates were almost identical, both ending in tragedy and becoming unique footnotes to that particular era.

Mu Qizhong's life was full of ups and downs, constantly switching between the identities of a tycoon and a prisoner.

Yang Rong was implicated in a case involving economic issues in 2002 and eventually went into exile overseas, disappearing from public view.

However, while some people are shrewd and opportunistic, others are hardworking and down-to-earth; the distribution of people has always followed a normal distribution.

While some people prefer adventure and profit, for a great Eastern country with a five-thousand-year-old civilization, most ordinary people are always working hard and being down-to-earth.

From 1978 to 1991, my country's reform and opening up had been going on for fourteen years, and the connection between China and the world had become increasingly close. The most direct sign of this was that "Made in China" products were gradually going abroad and entering the world market.

Also in 1991, the European Community announced anti-dumping duties on small-screen color televisions produced in the Republic.

According to statistics from the European Community, in 1985, Europe imported only 55,000 small-screen color TVs from the republics.

By 1988, this number had increased dozens of times, soaring to 1.25 million units.

my country's color TV exports account for 16.9% of the European market share, and the growth momentum remains strong.

Therefore, in order to counter the competition from Chinese color TV manufacturers, European and American domestic manufacturers had to lower prices by 30%, but it was still difficult to resist.

In the same year, the Republic's trade surplus with the United States climbed to US$9 billion, making it the world's second-largest trade surplus country with the United States, second only to Japan.

This means that $9 billion flows from the United States to China every year.

Although my country's industrial level is not yet comparable to Japan's high-tech products such as home appliances and electronics, textile products are the core category of our export earnings, accounting for half of our foreign trade exports.

But a clear trend has already emerged.

A world-class manufacturing hub is slowly rising on the land of China.

In addition, the contributions of foreign-invested enterprises and joint ventures to my country's economy cannot be ignored.

Just like Huaxia Piercarton, which, due to the advantages of the French brand and the convenience of Huaxia's low labor costs, became one of the earliest joint ventures to take root in the Republic, it has also become an important force in helping the country's economic development and promoting foreign trade and industrial upgrading.

In recent years, thanks to the combined efforts of Ning Weimin and Zou Guodong, Pierre Cardin has not only seen its garment exports steadily increase, but has also become a major trading company by exporting fabrics to garment manufacturers in Europe and Japan or processing orders.

Unlike Mu Qizhong's unconventional speculative business, Pierre Carton's overseas trade followed a steady and pragmatic industrial approach.

At that time, the domestic textile industry was facing the dilemma of overcapacity and weak domestic demand, and a large number of state-owned textile factories had nowhere to sell their stockpiled fabrics and garments.

Pierre Cardin, a joint venture, leveraged its advantages to connect domestic excess capacity with high-end overseas markets, solving the inventory problems of upstream manufacturers and enabling it to easily profit from trade due to its low costs.

It can be said that Pierre Cardin China has become almost the largest textile export intermediary in China, apart from the official one.

From a profit perspective, in 1991, Pierre Carton's net profit from overseas trade exceeded 32 million yuan, which was an astronomical figure at a time when state-owned enterprises were generally losing money and the private economy was just starting out.

Even so, it is clear to anyone with a discerning eye that no matter how rapidly the exports of physical industries such as textiles and color TVs surge, they will ultimately be constrained by low premiums, high competition, and high risks.

Sometimes it may seem like they're making a lot of money, but in reality, the bulk of the profits are being held by overseas channels, and they are constantly threatened by anti-dumping duties, trade barriers, and price wars.

In comparison, it must be said that Ning Weimin's unconventional approach to cultural export was a brilliant choice that truly understood the essence of the times and avoided all open and covert attacks.

His overseas Chinese restaurants and transnational film and television projects may seem unrelated to traditional "Made in China" products, but they are actually hidden exports with no physical goods, high premiums, and low risks. They represent a higher level of cultural export than clothing and home appliances, with profit margins and long-term value that traditional industries cannot match.

More importantly, cultural exports are far more resilient to risks than traditional industries, and there is no upper limit to the premium potential of cultural products.

The price of a garment or a color TV is determined by the market, but the value of a movie or a specialty restaurant can rise with word-of-mouth.

Ning Weimin's strategy may seem impractical, but it actually hits the nail on the head when it comes to the pain points of the times—while others are still earning meager processing fees, he has already begun to earn money from cultural premiums and brand value.

While others are still engaged in price wars with overseas manufacturers, he has already escaped the quagmire of competition and opened up a completely new track.

In an era when everyone was rushing to engage in manufacturing and foreign trade, Ning Weimin's choice seemed particularly unconventional.

But this unconventionality is precisely his business acumen, far surpassing that of his contemporaries.

Instead of following the trend of squeezing onto the narrow path of manufacturing, he turned culture into commodities and soft power into real money. This implicit "Made in China" approach not only yields higher profits and lower risks, but also subtly enhances the overseas influence of Chinese culture. It is a win-win choice for both businesses and the country.

It is far more stable and sustainable than short-term speculative get-rich-quick schemes or high-volume, low-margin sales.

Therefore, after returning to China from France, Ning Weimin continued to focus his work in China on these seemingly trivial matters of "entertaining the masses."

Although for those who only recognize "agriculture as the foundation" and "major national projects", his career development direction seems to have gone astray.

Or rather, it's somewhat of a waste of a great opportunity in this era, a waste of such a promising time.

But Ning Weimin knew that his choice was simply too ahead of its time. (End of Chapter)