By Jack LeBlanc

Arriving at the temple, our remaining giggles stopped instantly when we witnessed Jackson go into a religious frenzy, burning large amounts of incense, offering hell bank notes – a kind of fake paper money to appease the ghosts of his ancestors – kneeling on one of the red cushions and praying next to the seventy-some-year-old grannies. For my part, I thought he’d been bitten by some sudden Buddhist beliefs, while the others just didn’t know how to respond when faced with so much devotion.

This ‘performance’ was definitely the talk of the evening. After liberation, religion had been entirely marginalized and was only practiced by the elderly. In the eighties, however, religion made a slow comeback as new uncertainties emerged in people’s lives, and they sought new sources of comfort. The temples were finally recovering their role as places of consecration and contemplation, but to the officials, who saw them as nothing more than a tourist attraction, it was a great surprise to see Old J’s sudden piety.

‘I’m praying that our project is successful,’ Old J afterwards whispered in my ears.

‘Don’t worry,’ someone else interjected. ‘We really want to do business with Jieke!’

The results of the prayers to Buddha were fast indeed. It was a relief to see how everyone considered me more as a distant friend than as a formal glass vendor.

The rest of the afternoon was spent in a huge swimming pool heated by the hot springs. It was full of visitors splashing around in the tepid water, no one able to swim as there were over six hundred guests soaking their bodies together. Around five, as if by an almighty decree from above, the bathers all ordered take-away boxes of steamy rice and spicy meat that was sold in the little shops beside the pool. To my astonishment, almost everyone consumed the contents of their meal while in the pool, discarding the inedible bits into the water. This was the signal for me to make a dash for the showers.

The evening was predictably spent eating hot and spicy Sichuan dishes and emptying glass after glass of rocket fuel.

In between ganbeis we celebrated all the changes swirling through the country. With the opening up of China to the outside world there were now plenty of opportunities to make money. Already a couple of Mr. Zhang’s friends had ‘jumped into the sea’ and were making a handsome profit along the way.

‘Their wives remain safely in the confines of a state-owned work unit, providing a stable income and housing while my friends exercise their new-found freedom to make money by “feeling the stones to cross the river”.’

Old J only grinned at the wisdom of his compatriots; probably he was recalling similar experiences from when he started off.

Over the years many Chinese had released themselves from the shackles of state-run enterprises and tried to live by Deng Xiaoping’s statement ‘To get rich is glorious’.

That night around the table everyone was dreaming of hitting it rich fast!

Finally the karaoke machine was taken out and we loudly chanted our favorite songs. Not once did anyone mention the glass business. We were just a bunch of buddies enjoying ourselves.

The following day the bus brought us back to Chongqing and after alighting at the university, everyone in the bus promised they’d get hold of me in the next few days.

Again, radio silence prevailed for several weeks. As I waited for Old J to resurface I was getting more acquainted with student s and teacher s in the university. But I quickly realized that the blunt openness with which I approached them was not being reciprocated. Although they were polite, friendly and extremely curious about the outside world, our discussions would end abruptly, or they would adopt government – approved points of view, whenever we touched on more sensitive issues of Chinese society. The aftermath of Tiananmen was still rippling through many minds. So my search for more meaningful conversation brought me to the Sichuan Fine Arts Institute. There the students were more creative in expressing their opinions while elegantly evading the political whirlwind still spinning through society. These were my kind of guys, ready to challenge the established powers in their own subtle way. Moreover, my newfound friends had a wonderful ability to turn any dull moment into a riot. A welcome change from the eternal waiting that had been imposed on me.

In the meantime I had talked to Jan, who was a bit upset with my big negotiation margin, and the fact that many of the unanswered questions were contradictory or irrelevant. All my arguments were shot down one after the other. He couldn’t believe this was really serious, but the fact that we were talking big volume kept him hooked. Jan and I conducted a prehistoric version of Internet chatting via fax sessions at the Yangtze five-star hotel, thus discussing a wide range of technical questions and answers. At least now I had a much better grasp of the technical details, and what to look out for.

Then one afternoon while teaching I saw Smile’s excited face through the small door window, signaling me to come out.

‘I’ve just got a call from Old J, you need to rush over to him. Some large Hong Kong contractor and architecture company, involved in the design and construction of the building, is now in discussions with the Chongqing authorities. Jackson would like to have you there.’

This time, the meeting room of the now-familiar government building felt different. All the officials were dressed up, with flowers decorating their Western outfits. The Hong Kong company had arrived with all the big shots lined up. Again I was introduced as the expert who was to supply the high-quality glass. By now I gave my slide show presentation on autopilot, and threw in a bit of techno lingo to demonstrate that I knew what I was talking about. The Hong Kong executives grilled me afterwards, but at least they had come prepared with specific technical questions. For the first time I heard what the building was all about: a luxury five-star hotel, annex conference and exhibition centre invested in by the Chongqing government. Jan was exhilarated. This was a dream come true, and the volume of glass required finally made sense.

No matter what I told the Hong Kong people it seemed they were still not satisfied with my answers, and tried to poke holes in my technical defenses. I produced the required answer at every turn. To prevent us understanding them they’d talk in Cantonese, while Old J and the officials would hide behind their Sichuan dialect. There certainly was something bad brewing here. When I was asked for prices, Old J intervened on the spot and told me that those would be discussed at a later stage. As the meeting dragged on I felt tension growing between the contracting company and myself, as if I was an
outsider spoiling their kill.

That evening was again spent around the dining table. Surprisingly enough everyone behaved, with only a couple of rice-wine bottles assaulted. Karaoke was sung in Cantonese, Sichuan Chinese, heavily accented Mandarin Chinese and Belgian English.

Jack LeBlanc, author of Business Republic of China, Tales from the front line of China’s new revolution.

This is the sixth part of “The great glass curtain walls of China”, next week we will publish the seventh part. Here you can find Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5.