Chapter 64: Building an Army Means Poaching from State-Owned Factories
Seeing that Xiao Liang had absolutely no intention of returning his people, Gu Peijun was left dumbfounded. He groaned in frustration:
“I handed over every able-bodied person in the factory to you. Now you’ve lured them away and refuse to send them back—and you’re not even taking over the factory. What am I supposed to do?”
“Well, you’ll just have to recruit new people,” Xiao Liang said with a grin. “My brother isn’t in a position to formally join the juice factory yet. But you could poach a production manager from the municipal pharmaceutical factory—bring along four or five engineers and process technicians. That should do the trick.”
Truth be told, not just the juice factory—even the future production of health supplements wasn’t particularly complex. If they pulled people directly from the pharmaceutical factory now, they could both restart production and lay the groundwork for supplement manufacturing at the same time.
However, Xiao Liang was about to register a new company. Without the means to acquire the juice factory outright, he could only operate through contract manufacturing for now. That made it inappropriate to place his brother directly in charge of production there.
“But what right does a small juice factory have to poach people from Dongzhou Pharmaceutical?” Gu Peijun complained, clutching his head.
Regardless of how well Dongzhou Pharmaceutical was performing, it was still a high-ranking state-owned enterprise under the city—a full county-level unit. Its production department head was on par with officials like Fan Chunjiang or Zhou Jianqi.
Gu Peijun had interacted with some of their personnel over formula and process issues, but he didn’t believe he could persuade a production chief to abandon a secure government post and join a small village-run factory.
“What if you offer an annual salary of one hundred thousand?” Xiao Liang said calmly.
Gu Peijun gave a bitter laugh. “If I did that, I’d be crucified for it. Have you forgotten how little the average worker at the juice factory earns in a year?”
“Even if they tear you apart, you’ll have to endure it,” Xiao Liang replied. “The capable should do more—and earn more. That shouldn’t just be empty words. In private enterprises today, many top managers already earn more than that. If township enterprises want to grow, how can they compete when their production managers are barely scraping by?”
Gu Peijun shook his head. “I admit you’re right. But some truths just don’t work in places like Yunshe or Nanting Village.”
Before restructuring, ordinary workers at the juice factory earned barely two hundred yuan a month. Gu Peijun knew all too well the backlash he’d face for offering such high salaries to management. He wasn’t about to walk straight into Xiao Liang’s trap.
Xiao Xiao, who had been listening quietly, finally spoke up. He had given the matter some thought.
“You don’t actually need to poach the production chief,” he said. “The pharmaceutical factory hasn’t been doing well these past couple of years. A lot of young employees feel stuck—low pay, no advancement. There’s plenty of resentment, and many are eager to leave.”
He paused, then added, “If the juice factory offers competitive salaries—and management positions—I’m sure some would be willing to come.”
It wasn’t until this year that university graduates across the country were officially allowed limited freedom in choosing their jobs. Before that, nearly all graduates were assigned to government agencies or state-owned and collective enterprises.
Though there had been waves encouraging officials and state employees to “jump into the sea”—resign or take unpaid leave to explore private ventures—a small township factory like Nanting Juice simply didn’t hold much appeal.
Still, conditions were changing.
Since 1993, the state had begun pushing reforms in local state-owned enterprises—cutting staff and improving efficiency. As a result, many workers were being laid off or placed on standby.
If Nanting Juice offered attractive enough salaries, it could indeed recruit experienced technical and managerial talent.
Some might even take unpaid leave from the pharmaceutical factory to test the waters for a year or two.
Having worked at the Municipal Economic Commission and dealt extensively with state-owned factories, Xiao Xiao understood this situation better than anyone.
“In the past four or five years alone,” he continued, “Dongzhou Pharmaceutical has taken in thirty or forty graduates. Most are at the stage of settling down and starting families. But they earn less than three or four hundred yuan a month, while prices keep rising every year. Promotions and housing are still far out of reach. They’re frustrated and stuck.”
Gu Peijun nodded slowly. “If that’s the case, it might actually work.”
Then he shot Xiao Liang a glare. “You could’ve told me earlier. I’ve been worrying myself sick these past few days.”
“Every time we talked on the phone, you rushed to hang up,” Xiao Liang replied. “When was I supposed to discuss it with you? You need to fix that habit.”
Telephones were still a luxury at the time, and long-distance calls were expensive—especially between regions.
Even though Gu Peijun had a landline in his office, he treated every call like it was being billed by the second. Going even a few seconds over felt like a crime.
They spoke daily, but only to exchange brief updates. Over the past month, they hadn’t had a single proper discussion about future plans—Gu Peijun too stingy with money, Xiao Liang too busy.
Now, with Xiao Xiao’s explanation, Gu Peijun finally felt reassured about recruitment. He no longer pressed Xiao Liang to return his people.
Xu Lihuan, who had been sitting quietly, suddenly spoke up, puzzled.
“So you called me back… just to drink with Old Gu?”
He had assumed Xiao Liang wanted him to return to the factory and help restart production. Turns out, it had nothing to do with him.
“What, am I not worth the trip?” Gu Peijun shot back.
Xu Lihuan laughed. “With your drinking capacity? You can’t even handle three or five bottles of beer. Honestly, not worth the effort.”
“Cut the crap. You think I’m afraid of you?” Gu Peijun retorted with a grin.
Xiao Liang turned to Zhang Feili. “Did you book a private room at Xiao Tang’s Pickled Fish?”
“All set,” she replied. “I also had them start cooking ahead of time. If we leave now, everything should be ready when we get there.”
