In 1988, there was a saying in Shanghai: "Better a bed in Puxi than a house in Pudong." Puxi was the historic heart of the city, full of grand colonial buildings and bustling commerce. Pudong, just across the Huangpu River, was a wasteland of swampy marshes, cabbage patches, and decaying warehouses. To the people of Shanghai, Pudong was the "countryside"—a place for peasants and frogs.
Lin Xia stood on the ferry, the salty wind whipping her hair. She wasn't looking at the majestic skyline of Puxi behind her. She was staring at the mud of Pudong.
"You're making a mistake, Miss Lin," the real estate agent, a man named Mr. Chen, said as he adjusted his thick glasses. "With your capital, you could buy a storefront near Nanjing Road. Why do you want to look at a collapsed cannery in the marshes?"
"Because, Mr. Chen," Lin Xia said, stepping off the ferry onto the rickety wooden pier, "I don't care about what Shanghai is today. I only care about what it will be tomorrow."
Lin Xia knew the secret. In 1990, the central government would officially announce the "Pudong New Area" development project. This swamp would become the financial capital of Asia. The land she was standing on would eventually hold the Oriental Pearl Tower and the massive stock exchange.
Right now, however, it was just a stretch of grey mud and a rusted-out factory owned by a failing state-owned enterprise (SOE).
They walked for twenty minutes until they reached the "Red Star Cannery." The roof had partially caved in, and the windows were boarded up. A group of goats was grazing near the entrance.
"The state wants to get rid of this," Mr. Chen said, waving a hand dismissively. "It's a 'dead' asset. They'll sell the land and the structure for 40,000 Yuan just to get the debt off their books."
Lin Xia walked inside. The smell of rust and damp earth was thick. She didn't see the ruins; she saw a high-tech textile headquarters with climate-controlled storage and a direct line to the shipping docks.
"I'll buy it," she said.
Mr. Chen blinked. "Just like that? You haven't even checked the plumbing."
"There is no plumbing, Mr. Chen. I'll be building it myself."
To buy state land, even "dead" land, required more than just money. It required a meeting with the Director of Industrial Assets, a man named Director Ma.
The meeting took place in a cramped, smoke-filled office in Puxi. Director Ma was a man of the old guard—he believed in heavy machinery and five-year plans. He looked at Lin Xia's application with a sneer.
"A textile workshop? From a girl who isn't even twenty?" Ma blew a cloud of cigarette smoke into the air. "We have enough clothing factories. Why should I give this land to you instead of the State Garment Collective?"
"Because the State Garment Collective lost 200,000 Yuan last quarter," Lin Xia said, her voice steady and sharp.
Ma froze. "How do you know that?"
"I know that your 'modern' machines are sitting idle because you can't afford the electricity, and your fabrics are rotting in warehouses because no one wants to wear grey polyester anymore," she countered. She reached into her bag and pulled out a small silk pouch. Inside was a collection of high-end buttons made of polished bone and brass, along with a swatch of her indigo silk.
"I have a signed contract with a German distributor," she continued. "I bring in US Dollars. The State Collective brings in debt. If you give me that cannery, I will employ fifty workers from the liquidated cannery within three months. If I fail, you can take the land back and keep my deposit."
Ma leaned forward. The promise of "employing liquidated workers" was the magic phrase. The government was terrified of unemployment as the old factories closed.
"And where is your backing?" Ma asked. "A girl like you doesn't just walk into my office with a German contract."
"My backing," Lin Xia said, "is the future efficiency of this city."
Before she could finish, the door opened. Han Huojin walked in, wearing a sharp charcoal suit that looked expensive even by Shanghai standards.
"She has my backing, Director Ma," Han Huojin said, his voice cutting through the smoke like a knife.
Director Ma scrambled to stand up. "Secretary Han! I didn't know you were in the city."
"I'm here on a fact-finding mission," Han Huojin said, glancing at Lin Xia with an unreadable expression. He turned to Ma. "Miss Lin's project in the village has already outperformed three of our state-run workshops in the same district. If she says she can turn that cannery into a dollar-earning asset, I believe her."
The deal was signed ten minutes later.
Outside on the sidewalk, the bustle of Shanghai swirled around them. Lin Xia looked at Han Huojin.
"You followed me," she said.
"I followed the data," he replied. "You disappeared from the village, and suddenly a 'Miss Lin' is bidding on the most useless piece of land in the Huangpu district. I wanted to see if you were a genius or just lucky."
"And what did you decide?"
Han Huojin stepped closer. He was much taller than her, his shadow falling over her. "I decided that you are a dangerous woman, Lin Xia. You're buying land that everyone else thinks is trash. You know something about the government's plans for Pudong."
Lin Xia didn't flinch. "I just have a feeling for the wind, remember?"
"The wind is about to become a hurricane," Han said. "There are people in this city—powerful families—who won't like a 'village girl' taking a seat at their table. Zhang Wei's family is just the beginning. The real sharks are much bigger."
"Good," Lin Xia said, her eyes reflecting the grey river. "I haven't eaten all day. I'm quite hungry."