Ｓｉｌｋ　Ｓｔｒｅｅｔ　Ｗｒｅｓｔｌｉｎｇ　ｗｉｔｈ　Ｐｉｒａｃｙ.docVIP

Ｓｉｌｋ　Ｓｔｒｅｅｔ　Ｗｒｅｓｔｌｉｎｇ　ｗｉｔｈ　Ｐｉｒａｃｙ 　　 　　FOR nearly three decades Xiushui, or Silk Street, in east downtown Beijing has been a haunt for international bargain hunters. Besides silk, embroidery and other Chinese specialties, the market is best known for its pool of fake brand goods. 　　In recent years the former shabby outdoor stands have been replaced by an imposing seven-story emporium, with an additional three levels below ground. In conjunction with this physical upgrade there has been an attempt to improve the market’s image. But piracy dies hard, for demand looms large and profits are huge. 　　 　　The Making of Xiushui 　　 　　Xiushui is one of the most cosmopolitan spots in China’s capital. Its young salesgirls can speak the basics of at least three or four languages, and pick the one they think relevant to greet individual customers as they stream by. 　　Xia Wenquan was among the earliest stallholders in Xiushui. In 1984 he resigned from the state-owned Beijing Towel Factory and started a small business in the market, which was then a conflux of peddlers in a lane adjacent to the foreign embassy district. Xia sold commodities like underwear and socks from a small barrow and all his patrons were expatriates. “It was easy to do business with foreigners. They never inquired much before opening their wallets. I pressed a few buttons on the calculator, and the deal was done,” Xia recalls nostalgically. 　　Li Shulan was among the first to sell silk in the market. Foreign tourists reappeared in China in the early 1980s after the commencement of reform and opening-up, and many crammed their suitcases with traditional Chinese arts and crafts on departure. “With its distinct Chinese features, silk was snapped up like hot cakes by foreigners. Business was brisk,” recalls Li. Other merchants in the market soon followed suit. By 1985 the 200-meter lane was flooded with silk and related products, and soon became known as Silk Street. 　　 　　As the flow of visitors increased