Volume One, Chapter 15: Passivity and Initiative

In truth, Wang Xiquan was far from confident when it came to negotiating and bargaining with foreigners. His righteous indignation during the earlier meeting had been a natural emotional response after reading a journal article, feeling that foreign merchants were taking advantage of them. But ultimately, theory and reality were quite different. Even if the international market situation was laid out clearly in the negotiation, and the Danish company agreed to lower their price, the final deal would still be at their discretion. There was almost no room or capability for bargaining on their side.

Wang Xiquan’s mindset was a true reflection of most officials dealing with foreigners at the time. The country had only recently opened its doors, and not only ordinary cadres but even ministry leaders knew very little about foreign affairs. They only understood that Western nations’ productivity and development far surpassed China’s by multiples, and besides a population advantage, China’s technological level was nowhere near the lofty heights boasted about in political campaigns a decade earlier.

This clash of ideas and awareness often made them overly cautious when interacting with foreign guests and merchants, to the point of willingly tying their own hands and placing themselves at a disadvantage from the start. Maimaiti, having long seen through this phenomenon, had several times during the meeting been tempted to take the lead in the negotiations, but in the end, he restrained his restless heart with reason. After all, although the meeting ostensibly promoted free communication, there was plenty of open and covert rivalry, buck-passing, and finger-pointing behind the scenes. He was neither a senior technician nor held any official position; acting rashly would only bring unnecessary trouble.

When the meeting concluded, Maimaiti followed Wang Xiquan back to his office. Noticing the worry etched on his superior’s face, Maimaiti quickly brewed a pot of fragrant tea, carefully poured it out, and then feigned a readiness to take his leave. Yet before he could finish speaking, Wang Xiquan interrupted him: “Don’t rush off. Tell me, when those foreigners come tomorrow, can we really cut that thirty-thousand price per unit?”

“Teacher Wang, that price is our estimate based on various sources. Honestly, I’m not sure either,” Maimaiti said, hands spread in innocence.

“Well then, why did you sound so confident earlier, acting as if you had it all figured out in front of Director Yang?” Wang Xiquan was clearly unconvinced.

“Teacher Wang, you can’t blame me. That price plan was approved by you… Besides, you seemed even more determined than I did at the meeting,” Maimaiti cautiously reminded him.

Recalling the meeting, Wang Xiquan had indeed been full of righteous indignation. He had compared the procurement lists from Badaling and Rongcheng wind power test sites against the current international market, directly accusing the Danish quote of being inflated. He even cited a previous case where his department’s coal subsidiary was trapped in an oppressive contract when introducing foreign technology for producing 23m³ mechanical mining excavators, condemning the cunning and viciousness of capitalism.

Upon saying this, Wang Xiquan’s eyes widened as he cast a reproachful glance at Maimaiti: “You knew all this and didn’t stop me?”

Maimaiti understood it was just hot air and didn’t dare to add fuel to the fire. Only after Wang Xiquan returned his focus to the reports on the desk did Maimaiti voice the carefully considered words he had prepared earlier: “Teacher Wang, I’ve been thinking. We don’t need to worry too much. Our initial budget was forty thousand dollars per unit. As long as we stay within that range, it’s not a loss. But we must not concede on after-sales maintenance and transferring some technology, or on authorizing production and cooperation that allows us to grasp the relevant technology.”

Earlier, when Wang Xiquan had sent Maimaiti to gather and organize Vestas’ quotation data, they had engaged in theoretical discussions about the feasibility of producing wind turbines independently. At that time, Maimaiti had dreamt of purchasing foreign suppliers’ technical blueprints or partnering for production.

Wang Xiquan had initially been skeptical, worrying that Western suppliers might refuse to transfer technology out of concern for “giving away the fishing rod and cutting off their own path.” But after some reflection, he saw clearly: given the nearly century-long gap between Chinese and Western wind power technology, which Western country would view China as a real competitor or threat?

Realizing this, he quickly thought to negotiate with multiple suppliers simultaneously, buying from whichever was willing to transfer technology first. Yet he also knew that the path to domesticating production of advanced foreign industrial products like wind turbines had to be steady. Any misstep could lead to a repeat of the “Red Flag Yun-10” project’s downfall.

Maimaiti shared this sentiment.

In this era, there were two opposing voices in the realm of technology and craftsmanship: one conservative school held that “it’s better to buy than make, and better to rent than buy”; the other advocated an aggressive “market for technology” approach. Ultimately, the choice was not for the chief engineer alone but depended entirely on a leader’s decisive impulse.

To avoid the pitfalls on the road to domestic wind turbine production, the two agreed on a cautious strategy—first to localize a single component. Which component the other side would be willing to transfer depended on circumstances. After all, they had no blueprints at hand. Although Maimaiti knew the internal structure of wind turbines intimately, he chose to remain silent to avoid being seen as an oddity or causing misunderstanding.

“I agree completely with what you said,” Wang Xiquan nodded slightly and pondered a moment before looking up with determination. “Here’s the plan: Director Yang mentioned six companies’ sales representatives will visit tomorrow. We will negotiate with them individually. Afterward, we’ll discuss together how to proceed. How does that sound?”

“Together?” Maimaiti asked, a trace of confusion on his face. “I don’t have the experience for this.”

“Really?” Wang Xiquan smiled faintly, his eyes sharp. “I suspect you’ve been waiting for me to say that. Don’t worry, I’ll have Old Xie assist you to ensure the negotiations go smoothly. You just need to respond flexibly. Besides, this is a rare chance for you to learn and gain experience. I believe in you.”

Caught off guard, Maimaiti could only agree. His initial thought had been to handle all the suppliers alone, confident he could leverage their varying sizes, the competition among companies, and the negotiation tactics and experience accumulated from frequent clashes with foreign turbine firms to maximize benefits. But that approach risked overshadowing others and causing unnecessary trouble.

Wang Xiquan’s plan to divide them evenly was reasonable, and Maimaiti accepted it. After all, he had already reviewed the companies’ information: the startups and small to medium wind turbine designers like NEG Micon, Nordex, and Wind World would be Wang Xiquan’s responsibility, while Maimaiti himself would negotiate with the three global wind power giants—Vestas, Bonus Energy, and Wincon.