"Old man, you are belittling yourself. We dare not talk about other things, but our ancestors have been tailors for many years. It is not difficult to make clothes. We should make less and better. As long as the products are good, people will definitely buy them."
Zeng Wangcai didn't dare to say this out loud. He was confident that he could make a very warm down jacket, but he wasn't sure whether foreigners would buy it.
The reason is very simple. International affairs are not as simple as buying and selling. There are not many people willing to play with us now.
"Let's try it!" Zeng Wangcai saw that Old Man Liu was excited. "Old man, you know a lot of foreign guests. Why don't you try my vest? Maybe it will work. The Russians... uh, no, Big Brother is so cold over there. Maybe they are willing to buy it, right?"
The Russians are in a honeymoon period with us, which increases the possibility of a successful transaction.
The most important thing is that Zeng Wangcai has confidence in the vest. It was something he bought for his family and friends. Although it is domestically produced, its quality can definitely compete with those international brands that are trying to make money in the future.
"Then let's try it?"
"Yes, let's try it!" Zeng Wangcai urged excitedly, "My father has mastered the mature technology of making feather down into inner elixir. As long as there are enough raw materials, we can make good things even if we don't use machines, but only use sewing machines."
These words struck the heart of Old Man Liu again. Machinery was also a pain in his heart. The country was short of machinery now. If he wanted to set up a factory, he would have to purchase machinery, which would be another difficulty. Sewing machines were out of the question.
After agreeing on this, Zeng Wangcai had his meal and left satisfied.
Old man Liu was so excited that he ignored his physical discomfort and began to use his connections to contact his international friends in Beijing that night.
He first called an official of the Russians: "Hey, Comrade Ivankov, I will treat you to dinner tomorrow..."
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