29: Chapter 29 Scale Expansion

Chapter 29: Expansion of Scale

After receiving the 2.5 billion won from Shinhan Investment, Chairman Wang Shunyi felt the entire pace of the company shift. Before, the question was "can we do it," but now it had become "how can we do it faster." While Zhang Junhao's new production line wasn't even fully installed yet, Li Dongxu reported a raw material procurement plan to stockpile konjac powder for six months in advance. Park Min-ji was even more aggressive, negotiating three channels at once—Lotte Mart, Homeplus, and emart—and signing entry agreements for all of them.

Within three months, Shunyi Foods expanded from eight people to twenty. The office space became insufficient, so Chairman Wang Shunyi rented two more rooms on the same floor, knocked down the walls, and managed to squeeze everyone in. Kim Tae-min was busy with interviews every day, with resumes piled like small mountains on his desk. Choi Min-ju brought in a newcomer specifically to handle short videos; a small studio was set up in a corner of the office, with backdrops, fill lights, and tripods messyly stacked about.

Everything was rushing forward. But when rushing too fast, there are always bumps along the way.

Two weeks after launching at Homeplus, Zhang Junhao knocked on Chairman Wang Shunyi's door holding a report. His expression was grim; he didn't say a word upon entering, simply placing the report on the desk.

"President, things aren't looking right at Homeplus."

Chairman Wang Shunyi picked it up and flipped through. Two weeks after launch, the sales of fire chicken noodles and river snail rice noodles were only a third of what was expected. He frowned and turned the page to look at the detailed store data.

"What's the reason? Is the shelf placement bad, or do consumers just not recognize us?"

"Both," Zhang Junhao said, pulling up a chair to sit down. "I went to the sites myself. Our products are placed on the last row of the instant noodle section, near the warehouse doors; customers barely ever walk back there. Moreover, Homeplus consumers are primarily housewives who prefer large packs with low unit prices. They feel our small packs aren't a good value."

Chairman Wang Shunyi set the report down and leaned back in his chair, thinking for a moment.

"What about Nongshim and Samyang's positions?"

"They're on both sides of the main center aisles. The endcaps and promotional displays are all theirs. Plus, they have buy-and-get-free promotions every week—things like buy five get one free, or buy ten get three free."

"In other words, it's not a problem with our products, but a problem with our channel strategy." Chairman Wang Shunyi stood up and walked to the window. Outside was the gray sky of Seongdong-gu, and downstairs, a courier was tying goods onto a motorcycle.

"I need to go to Homeplus myself to meet their purchasing manager."

Two days later, Chairman Wang Shunyi went to the Homeplus headquarters alone. The building was located in Songpa-gu, not far from Jamsil Stadium—a gray-white structure with a row of flags hanging at the entrance. He registered at the front desk and, after waiting for ten minutes, was led to the purchasing department on the ninth floor.

Choi Myungho was the purchasing manager, a man in his fifties with thinning hair, wearing a deep blue suit and a slightly crooked tie. He sat behind a desk piled high with folders and samples, with no room even for a water cup. When Chairman Wang Shunyi entered, he was looking down at documents and didn't even raise his head.

"President Wang, have a seat," he said, pointing to the chair opposite him. His tone wasn't cold, but it certainly wasn't warm either.

Chairman Wang Shunyi sat down and placed the samples he had brought on the desk. "Manager Choi, our products have been on Homeplus shelves for two weeks now, and the sales haven't been ideal. I've come to understand the situation and see if there's any way to improve it."

Choi Myungho finally looked up, glanced at him, and then leaned back in his chair with his hands crossed over his belly.

"President Wang, I won't deny that your products sell well in convenience stores. But Homeplus is different. Convenience store customers are young people looking for novelty and excitement; they don't think 2,000 won for a pack is expensive. Homeplus customers are ajummas who calculate the price per gram for every pack of instant noodles they buy. They won't even look at your small packs."

"What about the shelf placement?" Chairman Wang Shunyi asked. "Our products were placed on the last row, near the warehouse door. Customers simply don't walk back there."

Choi Myungho spread his hands with a somewhat helpless expression, though Chairman Wang Shunyi felt it was an act. "Shelf placement is allocated based on sales data. If you aren't selling, you naturally end up in the corner. You should understand this logic, President Wang."

Chairman Wang Shunyi understood. It was a vicious cycle—poor sales led to bad placement, and bad placement led to poor sales. Choi Myungho's meaning was clear: if you want a good spot, you have to prove you can sell first.

He thought for a moment and asked directly, "If we cover the promotion costs, can Homeplus give us support?"

Choi Myungho's eyes lit up instantly, a change as quick as a light switch. He leaned forward and pushed the samples on the desk aside.

"That can be discussed. For example, if you put up 10 million won, we can arrange two weeks of promotion—endcap displays, poster advertisements, and weekend tasting events. Additionally, the shelf position can be moved to the middle area. It won't be the main aisle, but it'll at least be better than what you have now."

Ten million won. Chairman Wang Shunyi calculated in his head; it was roughly equivalent to 150,000 RMB. For the current Shunyi Foods, it wasn't impossible to produce, but it wasn't a small amount either.

"Deal. But I have one condition—after the promotion ends, if sales reach our expectations, Homeplus must commit to maintaining our shelf position for six months."

Choi Myungho thought it over and nodded. "Fine. I'll have my subordinates coordinate the specific sales targets with you later."

Returning to the company, Chairman Wang Shunyi immediately called a meeting. Zhang Junhao, Park Min-ji, Li Dongxu, and Choi Min-ju were all present.

"Regarding Homeplus, I've negotiated a promotion plan. We'll spend 10 million won in exchange for two weeks of endcap displays and tasting events." He explained Choi Myungho's conditions and then changed the subject. "But this only treats the symptoms, not the cause. Consumers at large supermarkets are different from those at convenience stores; we need to adjust our products."

Park Min-ji was the first to speak: "We should release family packs. Large packaging makes the unit price look higher, but it's actually cheaper per gram. Ajummas love that the most."

"Right," Zhang Junhao added. "And we can release combo packs—for example, fire chicken noodles plus river snail rice noodles, or fire chicken noodles plus self-heating pots, sold as a bundle. The price would be slightly cheaper than buying them individually, but the total price goes up, so consumers feel they're getting a bargain."

Li Dongxu thought for a moment and said, "In terms of raw materials, the cost for family packs can be brought down. With larger purchase volumes for konjac powder and flour, the unit price can drop by about five percent."

Chairman Wang Shunyi wrote a few lines on the whiteboard: "family pack," "combo pack," "Large Packaging." He then turned around.

"Minji, you're in charge of the packaging design. Jun-ho-ge, you keep an eye on the production schedule. Minju, the marketing plan needs to keep up, focusing on selling points like 'family sharing' and 'value for money.' Let's aim to have it on the market within a month."

Everyone nodded.

But before the family packs could even hit the market, another problem cropped up.

That afternoon, Kim Dong-xu returned from outside holding a box, looking quite upset. He placed the box on the desk, and Chairman Wang Shunyi looked at it—Chan-hyeok Self-heating Rice. The packaging featured a steaming bowl of bibimbap with "Korean Flavor, Self-heating Convenience" written next to it, and a price tag of 3,500 won.

"When did this launch?" Chairman Wang Shunyi asked, flipping the box over to examine it.

"Last week. It was launched on GS and CU simultaneously; the distribution speed was very fast," Kim Dong-xu said. "I checked a few stores, and sales are good—some stores have even sold out. Our self-heating pots are being pushed to the side."

Zhang Junhao took the box to look at it and gave it a sniff. "He's imitating our self-heating pot concept but switched it to rice. This move by Park Chan-hyeok is quite clever; he isn't copying us directly but is bypassing our product line to carve out a new path next door."

Chairman Wang Shunyi didn't say anything. He opened the box of self-heating rice, added water according to the instructions, and waited fifteen minutes. When he opened the lid, steam rose; the smell of the rice was okay, and the side dishes were dried radish and spicy sauce. It tasted average, but it had the advantage of being cheap.

He put the lid back on and threw it into the trash.

"Jun-ho-ge, should we also produce self-heating rice?"

Zhang Junhao thought about it and shook his head. "If we follow him, we'll always be behind. Our advantage isn't being cheap; it's quality. It would be better to make a high-end version of the self-heating pot."

"A high-end version?" Park Min-ji looked at him.

"Use better ingredients. Wagyu, imported seafood, organic vegetables. Upgrade the packaging too, make it matte black so it looks premium. Price it at 8,000 won, double the price of the regular version."

"Will anyone buy it?" Li Dongxu asked, sounding a bit skeptical.

"They will," Chairman Wang Shunyi said. "The consumer market is fragmenting. Some people will buy Chan-hyeok's for 3,500 won for the sake of being cheap, but there are also people willing to spend 8,000 won for a high-quality meal. We aren't doing business for everyone, only for the group that values quality."

Over the next month, Chairman Wang Shunyi and Zhang Junhao practically lived in the R&D kitchen. The Wagyu beef slices had to be perfectly marbled—too fat and they were greasy, too lean and they were tough. What imported seafood should they use? They tried shrimp, squid, and mussels, finally settling on Argentine red shrimp and Chilean mussels; the texture was good, and the cost wasn't too high. For the organic vegetables, they used domestic shiitake mushrooms, enoki mushrooms, and broccoli. Every gram had to be calculated precisely; adding too much was expensive, but adding too little looked stingy.

The packaging was designed by Park Min-ji and Lee Ji-eun. It was a matte black outer box with only a single line of gold foil text on the front—"Chef's Selection"—with the product name underneath. The back was printed with the origin of the ingredients and a nutrition facts table in white font with a very clean layout. Lee Ji-eun made three versions; Minji chose the second, and Chairman Wang Shunyi said "it works" and finalized it.

The day the samples were completed, Chairman Wang Shunyi had the entire team do a tasting. Everyone gathered around the long table in the conference room, each with a self-heating pot in front of them. Water was added, and they waited fifteen minutes. When the lids were lifted, the entire conference room was filled with the aroma of beef and seafood.

Park Min-ji took a bite of the beef first, chewed a few times, said nothing, and then took another piece.

"How is it?" Chairman Wang Shunyi asked.

"Delicious," she said. "The beef is very tender, and the broth is rich; it's on a completely different level from the regular version. For 8,000 won, it's worth it."

Zhang Junhao took a bite of the seafood and nodded. "The shrimp is springy, with no fishy smell. The mussels are fresh too. With this quality, there are no competitors on the market."

Choi Min-ju took a few photos and posted them on social media on the spot with the caption: "Internal tasting, the high-end version of the self-heating pot is launching soon—guess the price." Within ten minutes of posting, someone commented: "Looking at that beef, it must be at least 6,000 won, right?" and "When is it launching? I want to buy it!"

On the day of the launch, Chairman Wang Shunyi didn't go to the office but instead visited two GS stores himself. The first was in Jung-gu; the high-end version was placed on the top shelf, next to the regular version and Chan-hyeok's self-heating rice. The 8,000 won price was indeed striking, but the packaging was also eye-catching; the matte black really stood out among the sea of colorful boxes. He stood nearby and watched for ten minutes; three people passed by—two glanced at the price and left, while one picked it up, flipped it over to read the back, hesitated for a moment, and then placed it in their shopping basket.

The second store was in Mapo District. When he entered, he happened to see a young woman taking a photo of the shelf. After she finished, she posted it on social media with the caption: "Came across the high-end version of the self-heating pot—this packaging is just too beautiful." She spent five minutes taking photos and finally took a box to the checkout.

A month later, when the sales data came out, the high-end version had sold 8,000 boxes, with total sales of 64 million won. This figure wasn't large compared to the regular version, but the profit margin was nearly double. Furthermore, the discussion on social media was very high; many people treated the high-end version as a "treat for themselves" or a "gift for a friend," which significantly boosted the brand image.

On Park Chan-hyeok's side, the self-heating rice sold well, but the reviews were polarized. Some said it was "cheap and convenient," while others said the "taste is average, not as good as cooking it yourself." The repurchase rate wasn't particularly high.

That evening, Chairman Wang Shunyi and Park Min-ji were eating at a small restaurant near the company. The army stew was bubbling away, and she placed a piece of luncheon meat into his bowl.

"You've lost weight lately," she said.

"I've been busy," he took a bite of the luncheon meat. "The promotion at Homeplus is almost over, and the data will be out at the end of the month. The family packs are coming soon too; the production line is being tuned."

She nodded, said nothing, and took a sip of the soup.

"Minji."

"Hmm?"

"You've worked hard during this time. Between the channel negotiations, the packaging design, and managing social media... you've been doing the work of three people by yourself."

She smiled and set down her spoon. "I'm happy watching the company grow day by day. And—" she paused, "you're much more tired than I am. You're the first to the office every day and the last to leave. Sometimes you're still replying to messages in the middle of the night."

He lowered his head and took a sip of the soup. The broth of the army stew was a bit spicy, making his nose sting; he didn't know if it was truly the spice or something else.

"No matter what difficulties we encounter in the future," she looked into his eyes, her voice soft but firm, "I will face them together with you."

He raised his head and looked at her face. The restaurant's lighting was a warm yellow, shining on her face and making her features look very soft.

"Thank you," he said.

She smiled and said nothing more, fishing the instant noodles out of the pot and sharing half with him.

Outside was the Seoul night, with street signs glowing, and someone passing by on a bicycle with a basket full of groceries just bought from the supermarket. In the distance, a subway train rumbled past, the sound muffled like distant thunder.

He ate the instant noodles and felt that the noodles tonight were exceptionally delicious. Perhaps it was because of the half she had shared with him.