Fireworks manufacture.
Deadly industry.

Zhou Xiaorong was helping to build a new fireworks factory when he heard a boom from his nearby village. It was the sound of yet another tragedy for the industry. The epicenter was literally in the 28-year-old peasant's backyard.

Zhou lived next door to another fireworks factory, the biggest in the area. The explosion at the business in late December leveled homes and uprooted trees. Even miles away, ceilings crumbled and windows shattered. People screamed. Livestock ran amok.

Zhou's new two-story home collapsed, killing his 10-year-old son, Peng.

"He was watching TV," said the young father as he stood in the wreckage of his home long after the blast, despair evident in his eyes. "When I pulled him out, he was still holding the remote control."

The deadly nature of the fireworks industry in China made headlines last March when dozens of children were killed in a schoolhouse blast. The students had been forced to assemble firecrackers to supplement the institution's meager income. The incident prompted Premier Zhu Rongji to issue an apology to the nation, promising to guard against such tragedies.

December's explosion at the Panda Export Fireworks Co. here in Wanzai County, part of Jiangxi province, was particularly embarrassing because it occurred only a half-hour drive from the site of the school tragedy.

In response, provincial authorities announced that they will eliminate fireworks production in Jiangxi within the next two years. Neighboring Hunan province, also famous for its fireworks, came close to doing the same, temporarily closing 170 producers after a Jan. 10 blast killed six people.

Like the rash of mining accidents that have rocked China in recent months, the fireworks blasts have been badly timed for Beijing. They bring attention to a dangerous and poorly regulated industry at a time the national government is preparing for a major leadership change this fall, including the selection of a new president.

A severe cutback in production here in the heart of China's fireworks country, however, would have lasting impact on the destitute peasants who are economically dependent on jobs making recreational explosives. It also would touch millions of Americans who are among the biggest buyers of China's ancient noisemakers.

Even after the Panda factory exploded and burned to the ground, one could see signs here of the booming trade: Purple Rain, Cracker Bomb, Whistling Cuckoo, Fire Stick Torch and TNT Killer Bee. All the labels were in English.

Global demand has made pyrotechnics an irresistibly profitable business in China. This nation, which invented fireworks more than a millennium ago, has become the world's leading producer and exporter in part because other countries cannot compete with its low labor costs and find manufacturing too dangerous.

But people in other nations sure love to buy the fireworks. China exported about $250 million worth last year to dozens of countries. About 95 percent of the consumer fireworks sold in the United States are manufactured in China. Fireworks usage in America jumped from 29 million pounds in 1976 to more than 152 million pounds in 2000, according to the American Pyrotechnics Association.

The retail fireworks industry in the United States earned an estimated $650 million last year, up from $425 million in 1998, according to the association. With China offering unbeatable prices, retailers can mark up their products 200 percent to 600 percent and still sell at an attractive price.

Part of Chinese fireworks' rising popularity in the States, industry experts say, reflects the improved safety of the final products. But they admit that much less attention is paid to safety standards at the manufacturing end.

In China's vast countryside, labor is abundant. Plenty of people need jobs, and fireworks make a welcome cash cow. They are low-tech and cheap to produce by hand. The process calls for little more sophistication than it did centuries ago.

An illegal cottage industry flourishes alongside accredited factories. People work at homes and schools, stringing strands of firecrackers or stuffing gunpowder into shells. They do this with little safety equipment.

More than a third of all fires reported last year in China were linked to fireworks production. Officials shut down more than 237,000 illegal factories and shops in 2001, according to state media. But the industry thrives.

It's better to die in an explosion than from hunger, goes one saying in this region. So much is riding on the industry that few here can imagine life without it.

"Of course we don't hate our boss," said a woman who was off-duty during the Dec. 30 explosion at the Panda factory. "He's making money so we can make money," she said, giving only her last name, as she and some neighbors sifted through the rubble of their former work stations, looking for scrap.

Chinese peasants, on average, make less than $300 a year. But here in impoverished Jiangxi province, they helped produce about $179 million worth of pyrotechnics as part of an industry that contributes about $42 million to the provincial coffers through taxes, according to state media.

No wonder locals say there are three paths to wealth: selling drugs, arms or fireworks.

In Wanzai County alone, there are over 300 sanctioned factories making more than 3,000 varieties of fireworks. Taxes on their businesses make up as much as 40 percent of the local government's budget.

New factories spring up all the time. They stand out, usually as clusters of small brick sheds with pointed black shingle roofs and no windows. Many of them operate next to homes and schools. The only apparent precautions often consist of signs on the walls: "Sparks Prohibited" and "Safety First."