20: Chapter 20: 4,000 for a generic brand? Wouldn't it be better to buy a Dizi?

The delivery truck disappeared around the street corner.

Huang Dashan stood at the door, looking at the "Storm".

His heart was still pounding like a dozen rabbits were loose inside, completely unsettled.

He shouted into the shop.

"Old Liu, stop messing with that broken tire, come over here!"

Old Liu, the mechanic who was changing a tire for a customer, wiped the grease off his hands upon hearing the call and walked over.

He had been repairing cars in this market for twenty years; he had taken apart at least eight hundred to a thousand vehicles.

"Boss, this bike is not bad!"

When his gaze fell on the "Storm", he paused slightly.

"Yo, this frame is quite sturdy."

He was an honest man who didn't understand "violent aesthetics"; he only knew this thing looked solid.

Huang Dashan pursed his lips and lowered his voice: "Take it apart and see. From the inside out, check it carefully. See what kind of stuff it really is."

"Alright."

Old Liu casually pushed the "Storm" to the repair station and grabbed his tools.

When he twisted the tool into the reserved crank screw hole, he subconsciously made an "Eh" sound.

It was too smooth.

That feeling—silky, precise, without the slightest bit of resistance.

He had been working for twenty years and had repaired countless knock-off bikes.

Screw holes not aligning and needing a hammer to force them in, or even needing to re-tap the threads—those were daily occurrences.

He had only felt this level of precision on those imported big-brand motorcycles that cost tens of thousands!

His movements slowed down unconsciously, and his gaze became focused.

He began to inspect the frame.

His fingers traced the weld seams—flat, smooth, with even fish-scale patterns.

He picked up a wrench and tapped the thickest part of the main beam lightly.

"Dong."

The sound was dull, heavy, and carried the unique hum of metal.

It was definitely not the crisp "dang-dang" sound made by those thin iron pipes.

Old Liu looked up, his eyes full of shock.

"Boss, this material... the thickness of this tubing is at least twice that of the 'War God' batch from Lubaba Factory!"

Huang Dashan's heart skipped a beat.

Old Liu didn't speak anymore and buried his head back into the disassembly.

But the expression on his face became increasingly serious.

The mounting points for the brake calipers were perfectly aligned.

The embedding of the rear wheel bearings was smooth and unobstructed; they could be pushed in easily with just his fingers.

Even the most inconspicuous mudguard screw holes were aligned perfectly.

Not one too many, not one too few.

The more he assembled, the more creeped out he felt.

How could this be just a cobbled-together electric bike?

Half an hour later, the disassembled "Storm" was presented before them.

Old Liu stepped back two paces and watched quietly, walking around the parts.

Finally, he walked up to Huang Dashan with a solemn expression.

"Boss."

"This bike, I have nothing to say!"

"Every single screw hole looks like it was laser-positioned, and the frame rigidity is excellent."

"This workmanship... I feel like selling it for four thousand is selling it cheap!"

Huang Dashan's heart began to thump!

Old Liu's words were more effective than any tranquilizer!

In his mind, he instantly started calculating.

The high-copy "War God" from Lubaba Factory cost two thousand seven to stock and sold for at most three thousand two, earning five hundred per unit.

This "Storm" cost two thousand eight to stock.

If it was really as Old Liu said...

He decided to set the price at four thousand two hundred and ninety-nine!

A net profit of one thousand four hundred and ninety-nine per unit!

Nearly fifteen hundred in pure profit!

The most expensive genuine dizi in his shop only earned six hundred per unit!

"After assembling the bike, put it in the most conspicuous position for me!"

Huang Dashan waved his hand, his eyes shining.

"Write the price tag for me: four thousand two hundred and ninety-nine!"

He decided to gamble on this one!

From today on, this "Storm" electric bicycle would be the main hit in his shop!

...

However, the cruelty of the market soon slapped him in the face.

A mother brought her son, who was in middle school, to buy a bike.

"Mom, look! That black one is so cool!"

The boy took a fancy to the "Storm" in the center position at a glance, his eyes shining.

The mother was also attracted; the logo on the side of the bike body really did have a high-end feel.

"Boss, how much is this bike?"

Huang Dashan immediately put on a smiling face.

"Great taste, Big Sister! The latest 'Storm'! Over a hundred kilometers of range. Look at this workmanship, this material!"

The mother was very satisfied, then asked: "How much money?"

"Four thousand two hundred and ninety-nine."

"Over four thousand? Are you robbing people?"

She pointed to a red Lubà knock-off bike next to it.

"What about that one?"

"That one is just over three thousand."

"Fine, I'll take that one."

A deal was closed, but Huang Dashan felt like his heart was blocked by a stone.

The whole afternoon.

People kept coming to look at the "Storm".

Everyone praised its cool styling and good workmanship.

But as soon as they heard the price, everyone turned and left.

"Buying a generic brand for over four thousand? Isn't buying a dizi better?"

"Too expensive. I'm just using it for commuting, I don't need something this good."

All afternoon, the "Storm" went completely ignored.

Meanwhile, the Lubà bikes next to it, which he couldn't be bothered to promote, sold five units.

Huang Dashan slumped in his recliner.

A profit of fifteen hundred was indeed temptingly sweet.

But if it couldn't be sold, it was just a pile of scrap metal taking up space.

A new brand and a high price really made people helpless.

He began to doubt whether that kid Chen Xu was really just a greenhorn who didn't understand the market and only knew how to bury his head in making bikes.

The next morning, Chen Xu delivered nine more bikes.

He collected over seven thousand and turned to leave.

Huang Dashan didn't have time to say more than a few words.

The shop remained quiet.

Just as Huang Dashan was nodding off, two men wearing blue delivery uniforms walked in.

One was in his thirties, with dark skin and experienced eyes.

It was the Station Master that Huang Dashan often dealt with.

The other was in his early twenties, with a green face, clearly a newcomer to the industry.

"Boss Huang, buying a bike."

The Station Master got straight to the point.

"Need to equip a bike for a newbie. Requirements aren't high: battery needs to be durable, and it needs to run far."

Huang Dashan's eyes instantly lit up!

Opportunity!

He sprang up from his recliner and pointed at the "Storm" at the door.

He used his utmost enthusiasm.

"Station Master! You've come to the right place!"

"Don't even look at other bikes, just look at this one!"

Huang Dashan patted the hard seat of the "Storm", spitting as he spoke.

"'Storm' electric bike! Range of one hundred and ten kilometers!"

"It doesn't lose speed on slopes, and the power is there whenever you need it!"

"You guys delivering food, time is money. This bike is your money-printing machine!"

The Station Master was taken aback by his enthusiasm and walked over to the "Storm", looking it up and down.

The bike really did look solid, feeling sturdier than the bikes he had ridden before.

He squeezed the brakes and pressed on the suspension; the feel was quite solid.

But when his gaze fell on the unfamiliar "Star" logo on the bike body.

His brow immediately furrowed.

"'Star'? What brand is that? Never heard of it."

He looked up, his eyes full of scrutiny and distrust.

"Boss, don't try to fool me with some new generic brand again."

The Station Master snorted, full of vigilance toward merchants.

"And one hundred and ten kilometers of range? Why don't you say it can fly?"

"In this market now, who doesn't exaggerate their specs by thirty percent?"

"My boys run two hundred kilometers a day as a baseline. Can this bike handle half a day?"