When Zou Qinghua first ventured into Vietnam in 1994, all he had was a scrap of paper with a Vietnamese trade official's phone number on it. After negotiating the bribe-hungry guards on both sides of the China-Vietnam border, he tried calling the official, but neither spoke the other's language, so he hung up. Then, Zou showed up at the bureaucrat's office and tried to mime interest in investing in Vietnam. The official just looked confused. The next day Zou returned with an interpreter and finally got his point across. Today, the 42-year-old Communist Party member is one of the top individual Chinese investors in Vietnam and owns so many businesses that he invariably forgets a few when he goes through the list: there are the tracksuit, fertilizer-bag and closet-organizer factories; Vietnam's first zipper plant, which he opened last year by converting an ailing state-owned enterprise; and, best of all, a $6 million deal with another Chinese partner for 20 years' exploration rights to a chromium mine.
These days, Zou spends much of his time encouraging other Chinese from his coastal hometown of Wenzhou to invest in Vietnam. So far, he's convinced more than two dozen Wenzhou entrepreneurs to open up shop. Most come because wages are one-third cheaper than back home. But there's another reason for Chinese interest in Vietnam. A growing trade row between China on one side and the U.S. and European Union on the other has produced business restrictions on many types of Chinese-made garments and textiles. Zou believes he has a hedge against trade barriers because he sells products affixed with "Made in Vietnam" labels. "Western countries are sympathetic to poor Vietnamese businesses, so they like to give them more orders," says Zou. "If Chinese move their factories here, they will be able to make money off Westerners' sympathetic feelings."
Vietnam's capital, Hanoi, where Zou spends most of his time, reminds him of Wenzhou around 1985, when it was one of the cradles of Chinese private enterprise. But walking past the requisite giant bust of Ho Chi Minh in his Hanoi factory, Zou says Vietnam has a long way to go on the road to capitalist transparency. He is circumspect about the details, but Zou says he is embroiled in financial disputes with one of his Vietnamese factory partners. And a crucial license needed to get the chromium mine going has failed to materialize, even though the exploration contract was signed with much fanfare at a China-ASEAN trade fair last November. Still, Zou remains philosophical about his Vietnamese venture. "I can't get too mad," he says with a smile. "The Vietnamese are pulling the same tricks we pulled on foreigners in Wenzhou 20 years ago. Maybe it's justice."