W15 - The Dilemma

I'm in Datong, a small city barred from entry by Beijing. Datong has had no new cases for nearly 14 days, and all rail and road access into the capital are suspended. Shanghai sees over 20,000 cases daily, yet it still maintains one pair of high-speed trains each day. This is the reality a city that normally has only about 2,000 daily travelers to Beijing must confront.

An unknown nobody. Like many border towns in Yunnan hit by the outbreak, this has nothing to do with regional economic development or international supply chain security.

Self-reliance. I tried transfer by rail and highway options, but each departure I was forced to cancel my ticket by staff, as if I were petitioning to enter Beijing. I called 12345, 12306, and the local epidemic control office and felt like I was in a football match. No one could state the conditions for entering Beijing or give a definite restoration time. Resigned, I left a few words for the premier on the State Council app.

The outbreak at the Yunda logistics park in Taiyuan turned the health codes of over two million people across Shanxi red overnight, which led to what I’ve experienced these past days. Mass nucleic acid testing, successive escalations by administrative units at all levels triggered public panic, hoarding of supplies, and emptied supermarket shelves. My father even withdrew tens of thousands of yuan in cash from the bank, fearing a run. It was almost absurd; I couldn't tell if this was a natural disaster or a man-made calamity.

Fortunately, Datong has had no confirmed cases since April 2, and the tense atmosphere comes in pulses. I still have a job I can support remotely. More importantly, I have a home to return to and am with my parents.

This weekend the Wudaokou Finance Forum was successfully held; I watched parts of the livestream intermittently. I had the chance to attend in person but couldn’t, which is a regret. I paid particular attention to the fintech session on Sunday afternoon. Perhaps because the forum was nearing its end and many leaders were absent, the last speakers delivered high-quality dialogues. The praise-fest rhetoric grew rarer until Yan Yan took the stage; his talk was the highlight of this forum and recalled the style of Professor Ma at the Lujiazui Forum years ago.

I didn’t know much about this heavyweight before, so I looked him up—he’s an interesting person. He once cut in line, studied aeroplane design as an undergraduate, and worked two years as an engineer. Later he studied under the renowned sociologist Fei Xiaotong at Beida. In the 1990s he earned a PhD in international political economy from Princeton, then worked at the World Bank. His current principal role is partner at SAIF Partners.

In his Wudaokou Forum speech, regardless of structural form, his real intent lay elsewhere. Here are a few examples to illustrate.

• The previous speaker argued that, at the macro level, the financing environment for private enterprises in China has greatly improved and inclusive finance has made gains. Yan Yan immediately disputed that view: his point was that researchers need to go to the grassroots and not rely solely on macro aggregates. Structurally, most loans to private firms have been taken by real estate companies; financing for micro and small businesses is worse, and the true state of operations has suffered heavy casualties.

• Since he began investing, he has witnessed China’s tech industry IPO market grow from zero to $5 trillion and then fall back to $1 trillion from last year to now. He said he doesn’t understand the logic behind why tech has come to such a state.

• As for what will drive social progress next, that might be beyond what any of you can solve—resolving it might be worthy of several Nobel Prizes.

• The economic impact of the epidemic is now visible to the naked eye; this year’s 5.5% annual growth target rests on the statistics bureau.

Before finishing this piece, while taking a sip of tea I habitually checked the ticket site—miraculously a ticket was released. I joyfully went to get tested.