16: Chapter 16 Hongdae Night Market

Chapter 16: Hongdae Night Market

Zhang Junhao spent a week visiting all the night markets in Seoul.

With samples of fire chicken noodles stuffed in his backpack, he would approach any stall that seemed to be doing good business to chat. Dongdaemun, Myeong-dong, Yeouido—he went everywhere he could. Most stall owners shook their heads after hearing him out. Some found it too troublesome, some felt that selling instant noodles didn't match their fried chicken or stir-fried rice cakes, and others thought the profit split was too low.

It wasn't until Friday night that he wandered over to Hongdae.

Hongdae's night market was different from the others. Dongdaemun was mostly tourists and middle-aged or elderly people, but Hongdae's streets were filled with young people in their early twenties. University students, musicians, and street dancers squatted on the roadside in groups of three to five, drinking beer and eating fried chicken. Besides the aroma of food, the air was filled with the sounds of guitars and drumbeats. Zhang Junhao squeezed through the crowd for a while before being drawn in by the scent of a fried chicken stall.

There were seven or eight people waiting in line, and a young couple was working tirelessly. The man wore a baseball cap, his apron stained with oil as he chopped fried chicken with swift motions. The woman was responsible for taking money and bagging the food, all while constantly greeting customers. Zhang Junhao waited nearby for about ten minutes, only approaching once the crowd thinned out.

"Hello, I'm Zhang Junhao. Can we talk for a moment?"

The man looked up at him briefly without stopping his work. "What is it?"

Zhang Junhao pulled a pack of fire chicken noodles from his bag and handed it over. "My friend has a brand called La Ziyou that sells fire chicken noodles and river snail rice noodles. They're super spicy and quite popular among young people. I'd like to collaborate with you and sell them here at your stall."

The man took the noodles, flipped them over to inspect them, and then handed them back. "I sell fried chicken here. What's the deal with selling instant noodles?"

"Let me finish," Zhang Junhao said, pushing the pack forward instead of taking it back. "These aren't ordinary instant noodles; eating them is a challenge. You could set up a 'Fried Chicken + Fire Chicken Noodle' combo. For example, give out trial coupons with fried chicken purchases, or create a 'Spicy King Combo'—fried chicken paired with fire chicken noodles. Isn't that exactly what these young people in Hongdae like?"

The man stopped his knife and thought for a moment, his eyes slowly lighting up.

"That's actually interesting," he said. "Several shops around here have held spicy chicken feet challenges, and they were very popular."

"Exactly, that's the idea. Let's try it for a week. If it works, we keep going; if not, you can stop anytime."

The man nodded and looked at the pack of noodles again. "Alright, let's give it a shot. But I have a condition—I want a forty percent cut. You get sixty, I get forty."

Zhang Junhao did a quick calculation. It was significantly lower than what Sister Jin offered, but given the foot traffic in Hongdae, small profits with high volume would be worth it.

"Deal."

The two shook hands and agreed to start stocking the product next Monday.

On the way back to the office, Zhang Junhao rode his motorcycle. As the cold wind blew into his collar, he was still calculating in his head. Now that he had secured this one spot in Hongdae, there were several other well-positioned stalls nearby. He would hit them tomorrow.

When he reached the office, Chairman Wang Shunyi was still there. A laptop was open on the desk, next to a cup of cold coffee.

"You're back?" Chairman Wang Shunyi looked up.

Zhang Junhao took off his jacket, threw it on a chair, poured a glass of water, and took two large gulps before explaining the situation in Hongdae.

"There are lots of young people in Hongdae, which fits our product perfectly," he said, wiping his mouth. "I've secured the fried chicken stall with a sixty-forty split, with them taking forty percent. Also, two stall owners in Myeong-dong said they'd think about it and give me an answer next week."

"Hongdae is a good place; you should focus more energy there." Chairman Wang Shunyi made a few notes in his notebook. "By the way, how is the Spiciness Challenge going?"

"We've received over a hundred videos." Zhang Junhao pulled out his phone, scrolled through it, and handed it over. "Look at this one. This guy is rapping while eating fire chicken noodles. He's crying and his nose is running so much he can't even get the lyrics out. The comments are going crazy. It's already over a hundred thousand views."

Chairman Wang Shunyi took the phone and watched for a while, a smile slowly forming on his face.

"Who came up with this?"

"He did it himself. There are even crazier ones. Someone challenged five packs at once and gave up by the third, ending the video face-down on the table calling for his mom." Zhang Junhao laughed as he spoke. "The results come out next Friday. We've invited a few food bloggers to be judges. The scoring criteria are creativity, appeal, and reach."

"Get the prizes and promotional materials ready in advance. We'll do another push when the results are announced."

"Got it."

Chairman Wang Shunyi handed the phone back and flipped through his notebook again. After a few seconds of silence, he said, "Canhe has started running TV commercials."

Zhang Junhao was stunned for a moment. "What kind of commercial?"

"I saw it at a CU Convenience Store. It shows a young person eating canhe spicy chicken noodles and shouting things like 'So spicy, so good!'" Chairman Wang Shunyi paused. "Their spicy chicken noodles are now selling over five hundred million a month."

The office fell silent. Five hundred million. That was more than ten times his own sales.

"The gap is widening," Zhang Junhao said.

"Yeah."

Chairman Wang Shunyi said nothing more. He closed his notebook and leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling.

On Wednesday afternoon, Park Min-ji sent a message: "Sunyi, I've helped you contact an investment firm called Xingchen Venture Capital. They mainly invest in consumer brands. They're quite interested in you. Are you free this Friday at 3:00 PM in Gangnam District?"

Chairman Wang Shunyi stared at the screen for a few seconds before replying, "I'm free. Thanks, Minji."

On Friday afternoon, he arrived at the Xingchen Venture Capital office on time.

The place was on the seventeenth floor of an office building in Gangnam District. As soon as he stepped out of the elevator, he saw the dark gray logo. When the receptionist led him in, he noticed that the corridor walls were decorated with modern oil paintings rather than corporate awards. He didn't quite understand them, but they looked expensive.

The conference room was twice the size of the one at Seoul Venture Capital. The long table could seat over a dozen people, with glass water cups set on coasters printed with the Xingchen logo. Three people were already sitting inside—a middle-aged man, a woman in her early thirties, and an elderly man with white hair.

The middle-aged man stood up and extended his hand. "Mr. Wang, I am Park Jun-hyeok, a partner at Xingchen Venture Capital."

"Hello."

"This is our Investment Director, Choi Min-young." The woman smiled and nodded. "And this is Professor Kim from Seoul National University's Business School, who also serves as our strategic advisor."

Chairman Wang Shunyi felt a stir in his heart. Having a professor from Seoul National University as an advisor meant this firm's background was not simple.

"Please, have a seat." Park Jun-hyeok gestured for him to sit. Instead of returning to the head of the table, Park Jun-hyeok pulled up a chair directly opposite him and casually opened a folder on the table.

"La Ziyou: fire chicken noodles, river snail rice noodles, self-heating hot pot. Currently, monthly sales are over ten million with a profit of three million. Is that correct?"

"Roughly."

"Canhe Foods released an imitation product and entered major chain channels, which has impacted you." Park Jun-hyeok's tone was flat, as if recounting news everyone already knew. "But your sales didn't collapse; instead, they stabilized. I'm very curious to know how you achieved that."

Chairman Wang Shunyi thought for a moment and said, "Their product is a copy; its taste and quality can't match ours. Consumers aren't stupid; once they've tasted both, they can tell the difference."

"Is it really that simple?"

"It's that simple."

Park Jun-hyeok smiled slightly and didn't press further, changing the subject instead. "What are your plans for the future?"

"In the short term, stabilize the market and continue expanding online and offline collaborations. In the medium term, build our own factory and enter major chains. In the long term, become the most influential food brand in Korea."

"Ambitious." Park Jun-hyeok turned to Professor Kim. "Professor Kim, what do you think?"

Professor Kim adjusted his glasses and said slowly, "The product is unique, and the brand has influence among young people—those are advantages. But the problems are also obvious: the moat isn't deep enough. If Canhe can copy it, others can too. Additionally, Mr. Wang is young and may lack management experience. The instant noodle market itself is mature, with limited room for growth."

Chairman Wang Shunyi didn't rush to argue. He waited until Professor Kim finished before speaking. "Professor Kim makes a good point. I have three responses. First, the moat: our recipe is unique. Others can't replicate the exact same taste even if they try, and we are currently applying for a patent. Second, management: I am indeed young, but I have a team. My partner Zhang Junhao is in charge of operations, and we have people overseeing marketing and logistics. I'm not carrying this alone. Third, market space: while traditional instant noodles are saturated, fire chicken noodles and river snail rice noodles are not traditional instant noodles. They are new products in a new niche market. This market is just getting started."

After listening, Professor Kim nodded slightly and said no more.

Park Jun-hyeok pulled a sheet of paper from the folder and pushed it over.

"Our preliminary valuation is five hundred million. We will invest two hundred million for a 35% stake. We can help with channel resources, brand marketing, and management consulting. Think it over."

Chairman Wang Shunyi picked up the paper, looked at it, and then set it back down.

"Can I have a few days to consider?"

"Of course." Park Jun-hyeok stood up and extended his hand again. "But the market doesn't wait. I hope to hear your answer soon."

On the way back, Chairman Wang Shunyi sent a message to Zhang Junhao on the subway: "The talk is over. Valuation of five hundred million, investment of two hundred million for 35%."

Jun-ho replied instantly: "The valuation is high, but that's a lot of equity to give up. Let's talk when you get back."

Chairman Wang Shunyi put his phone back in his pocket and leaned against the train wall, looking out at the dark tunnel. Lightbox advertisements flashed by—one was a promotion poster for CU Convenience Stores: canhe spicy chicken noodles, 1500 won.

He got off two stations later and walked back to the office. Jun-ho was still there, with records of the new collaborations in Hongdae spread across the desk.

"What are you thinking?" Jun-ho asked.

Chairman Wang Shunyi didn't sit down. He stood by the window, looking at the gray sky outside. After a long while, he said, "I'll think about it some more."

He didn't commit to anything yet. Two paths lay before him: one was to trade equity for resources, and the other was to push forward slowly on his own. Neither choice was easy.

His phone vibrated with a text from his mother: "Sunyi, how have you been lately? The weather is getting cold, remember to keep warm."

He replied: "I'm doing well, Mom. You and Dad take care too."

After sending it, he placed his phone face down on the desk, sat in his chair, and closed his eyes.

The office was very quiet, save for the sound of Jun-ho flipping through his notebook and the distant hum of traffic outside.