Thank goodness the thousand business executives who are taking part in Australia Week In China won't be issuing a communique. That would be an exercise in redundancy and futility.
Enough paperwork has already been generated by our economic relationship with China - much of it recycled, naturally - to fill sufficient cardboard boxes to stave off poverty for the Pratt family for some time.
Hopefully, the travels by the AWIC adventurers, pursuing eight sectoral themes through different cities in China, will provide them with something much more important than a document they can bring home and have filed: an appetite for discovering (by meeting them, watching them and learning from them) what Chinese people really want, and how they want to get it. 
The AWIC executives, who are now being joined by Prime Minister Malcolm Turnbull as he arrives in Shanghai today, mainly comprise the people assigned to make sure their firms make the most of the opportunities in the three-month-old China Australia Free Trade Agreement, ChAFTA.
Some have been doing business with China for years, but want to move their trade or investments up to a higher level in quantity or quality, or both.
Their views, encapsulated or not in a communique, are important. So are those of Chinese people whom Australian business needs to engage more intimately, so that we can tailor our products and services to help meet their needs.
The brief AWIC visits this week can only be a start to that process, which now needs to intensify. Some of the Australians now here need to be planning to return sooner, for a longer and more focused stay, one in which they can get to know their consumers or potential consumers up close, and of course their own Chinese staff, and the milieu from which they come.
Let me introduce, for a start, two classic, genuine members of the Chinese middle class that comprises our key market.
Wang Siyu, aged 26, single, is the manager of a Zara store in a new Beijing shopping mall, with 40 staff.
She graduated in tourism in Hubei province and came to Beijing for a job as a flight attendant that she left due to unappealing pressures. She worked for an online digital marketing firm that recruited celebrities to endorse products for fees. Then she was recruited as a night manager for a clothes store, working 14-hour shifts, often seven days a week, spending much of her time folding and arranging items. She could not afford to wear the store's own clothes as required, buying fakes instead via the vast TaoBao online retail platform.
She quit when the company said it was cutting her pay, and was later hired by Zara - since when her fortunes have turned around.
She organised the opening of the store a year ago, since when business - unlike a lot of traditional retail in China today - has boomed, thanks in part to the opening also of a vast new up-market apartment compound, King Gardens, next door.
"At weekends we are full of families," she says, "since we have not only a floor for women's clothes but another for men and children." The design, she believes, carries the key appeal for her overwhelmingly middle-class cus-tomers. "We often sell specials just made for the Asian or Chinese market," with red, for instance, dominating at New Year. New stock arrives every Tuesday and Thursday, so it's constantly churning.
"The customers are also price-sensitive," she says - more so than in the first ever Zara store in the city, in The Place mall, where sales are dominated more by "office ladies", often single, with higher disposable income.
But people still buy coats that can cost up to $260, or dresses to $120, Wang says.
Li Wendong, aged 41, married, is an IT technician. His wife works from home and they have a 12-year-old daughter.
The family income has almost doubled in the past decade, he says, to about $40,000 a year. "Life has certainly got better for us; I'd call myself at the bottom of the middle class." The next leap in earnings that he envisages might come "if the farmland owned by my parents were to be suddenly confiscated by the government, and the family were to be given a lot of compensation. My mother was a farm worker, and my father worked in a factory - neither of them helpful to my career, nor can I be helpful to my daughter's career in the future when she grows up." That, he says, will depend on her own skills and application, as happened with his own advancement.
Among the family's new aspirations are overseas travel and a foreign education for his daughter. "She doesn't have to achieve academic heights," he says, "I hope she can choose her own path, and succeed in any aims she sets herself." He is an optimist about China's progress: "Things are getting better, the economy is changing direction, but not in a bad way." Li feels lucky that he was born just before the one-child generation: "I have two sisters and one elder brother to share the family affairs, to join in taking care of our parents. But I see some single children, born later than me, who have to take care of four parents - so they can't afford to buy their own home. Life must be much harder for them."The lives of both Wang and Li can be made even better by Australian products and services. It's now up to us to work out which, and how to deliver them.