41: Chapter 41 Taking it a Step Further

In late September, the annual ranking report from the Korea Food Industry Association was released. Chairman Wang Shunyi was at the factory overseeing the debugging of a new production line when his phone vibrated. He glanced down but didn't open it. By the time he returned to his office, it was past 3:00 PM. He poured a glass of water, sat in his chair, and leisurely pulled up the report.

The report was in PDF format, with the industry association's logo on the cover and "2024 Annual Korea Food Enterprise Ranking" written below. He scrolled down two pages. There were no surprises in the top ten—CJ, Lotte, Nongshim, Ottogi, Samyang. These names were there every year, with numbers so large they made one dizzy. He continued scrolling, and past the fifteenth place, he saw his own company.

Shunyi Foods Group—Sales 85 billion KRW (projected), ranked 18th.

He stared at that line for several seconds, put down his water glass, and read it again. That's right, 18th. At this time last year, Shunyi Foods hadn't even made the rankings because their annual sales were only 6 billion, and the last place on the list was 10 billion. In one year, going from unranked to 18th—this leap felt unreal even to him.

He picked up his phone and called Park Min-ji.

"Minji, did you see the ranking report?"

"I did." Her voice was smiling. "18th place. President, guess what rank the company was when I first applied?"

"Not on the list."

"Right. At that time, the company didn't even have twenty people. Who could have thought we'd make it into the top twenty this year." She paused. "Should we hold a meeting this afternoon? Let everyone be happy too."

"Let's do it. Four o'clock, large conference room."

At the four o'clock meeting, the conference room was already full when Chairman Wang Shunyi arrived. One hundred and thirty people packed the room that could hold one hundred and fifty, with some people standing against the wall in the back. Zhang Junhao sat in the front row, next to Park Min-ji, and further over were old faces like Cha In-pyo, Jung Soo-yeon, and Kim Tae-min. The rows behind were filled with new colleagues who had come from Park Chan-hyeok Foods and Dongdaemun Foods; Chairman Wang Shunyi didn't even know some of their names yet.

He walked to the stage and projected the cover of the report onto the screen. "I received the annual ranking from the association today, and we've made it into the top twenty. 18th place."

The applause started from the back and moved forward. Zhang Junhao also clapped, not heavily, just one beat at a time, very restrained. Park Min-ji didn't clap, but she was smiling, her eyes curved like crescents.

Chairman Wang Shunyi waited for the applause to stop before continuing: "At this time last year, our sales were 6 billion, and the last place on the list was 10 billion. In one year, we've increased fifteen-fold. This isn't just my credit; it belongs to every one of you."

He glanced at Zhang Junhao. "Jun-ho has been here since day one. Production lines, procurement, logistics—he's done all the dirtiest and hardest jobs. Minji—channels, marketing, branding—she does the work of three people by herself. In-pyo, Xiuyan, Tae-min, Dong Xu—every one of you has added fuel to this fire."

He paused, his voice dropping a little. "But this ranking is just the beginning. 18th place sounds good, but look at who is in front of us—CJ, Lotte, Nongshim. These companies have been around for decades, with tens of billions in capital, thousands of employees, and tens of thousands of retail outlets. The gap between us and them is not small."

The room fell silent. Some lowered their heads, some stared at the rankings on the projector screen.

"Top ten within three years, top five within five years, and number one in Korea within ten years." Chairman Wang Shunyi's voice wasn't loud, but every word carried far. "Some say this goal is crazy. But two years ago, when I was setting up a stall at the Hongdae night market, no one believed I could get into convenience stores either. Take it one step at a time, and you'll get there."

No one applauded. But no one spoke. That silence wasn't awkward; it was people thinking.

After the meeting, Zhang Junhao followed Chairman Wang Shunyi back to the office. He closed the door, fished a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, and lit one. Chairman Wang Shunyi glanced at him; Jun-ho didn't usually smoke, only when he was really troubled.

"What's wrong?" Chairman Wang Shunyi asked.

"Production capacity." Zhang Junhao exhaled a puff of smoke. "Both lines are currently running at full capacity, and orders are still rising. GS25 is having an anniversary promotion next month, and the stocking volume is double the usual. We can't handle it."

"How big is the gap?"

"Thirty percent. If the promotion goes well, it could reach fifty percent."

Chairman Wang Shunyi leaned back in his chair and thought for a moment. "Your suggestion?"

"Add a line. Or buy a factory." Zhang Junhao stubbed out the cigarette in a flowerpot on the windowsill—the soil in the pot was dry, it hadn't been watered for days. "Buying a factory is faster. Building a line from scratch takes time—waiting for equipment, hiring people—at least half a year. Buying an existing factory means the equipment, people, and qualifications are all ready. It can be put into production in three months."

"Do you have a target?"

"There is one, Dongdaemun Foods. It's in Uijeongbu, a forty-minute drive from our factory. They mainly do instant noodle contract manufacturing. The equipment is three years old, and the capacity utilization rate is less than fifty percent. They've been losing money for two consecutive years, and the owner wants to sell."

"How much?"

"He wants 20 billion. I estimated it—the equipment is worth 15 billion, plus the factory site, qualifications, and inventory, it's between 18 and 20 billion. It can be negotiated."

Chairman Wang Shunyi didn't reply. He stood up and walked to the window. It was getting dark outside, the streetlights weren't on yet, and the streetscape of Seongdong-gu was gray. Dongdaemun Foods, Uijeongbu, 20 billion. How much money was left in the account? The acquisition of Gyeongnam Ingredients cost nearly 18 billion, the bank loans weren't fully paid off, and cash flow wasn't exactly abundant.

"Don't rush to make an offer. See if he can find other buyers. If he's desperate, the price can be pushed down."

"Okay." Zhang Junhao stood up and patted the cigarette ash off his pants. "Then I'll go test the waters first."

Over the next two weeks, Zhang Junhao made several trips to Uijeongbu and thoroughly investigated the situation at Dongdaemun Foods. The equipment was indeed three years old, a Japanese production line, well-maintained. There were over seventy workers, mostly older women who lived nearby; their craftsmanship was fine, but their efficiency wasn't high. The owner's name was Shoppers, in his early fifties, who had been doing contract manufacturing for over a decade, but had been crushed by price cuts from big brands over the last two years, resulting in continuous losses, and the bank refused to lend him more money.

Shoppers was initially reluctant to sell, hoping to get investment to turn things around. Zhang Junhao had someone inquire, and he had approached three or four investment institutions, but none were willing to invest. The reason was simple—the contract manufacturing model had no brand premium, clients could switch at any time, and the risk was too high.

By mid-October, Shoppers took the initiative to call. Zhang Junhao answered, and Shoppers' voice on the other end was a bit hoarse: "Representative Zhang, is the acquisition you mentioned last time still valid?"

"It is."

"Then shall we set a time to talk?"

The negotiation took place in the conference room of the Dongdaemun Foods factory. The conference room wasn't large, the window faced the factory area, and one could see machines turning in the workshop opposite, but the sound couldn't be heard. Shoppers was wearing a gray work jacket, his hair was messy, and his eyes were bloodshot. On the table sat a pot of cold corn silk tea, with no one pouring it.

"Shoppers, we offer 18 billion." Zhang Junhao spoke first, his tone neither hard nor soft.

"18 billion is too low. For this factory, the equipment alone is worth 16 billion, plus the land, factory building, and inventory, it's worth at least 22 billion."

"Shoppers, equipment is calculated at second-hand prices; it's not worth 16 billion. You've used it for three years; depreciation brings it to 14 billion at most. The land is rented, not yours." Zhang Junhao flipped through the folder in his hand. "Besides, you've been losing money for two consecutive years, and the losses are widening this year. The hole we have to fill after taking over is not a small number."

Shoppers fell silent. His accountant wanted to speak, but he raised his hand to stop him.

"19 billion." Shoppers said.

Zhang Junhao looked at Chairman Wang Shunyi, and Chairman Wang Shunyi nodded slightly.

"18.5 billion. This is the final price. If it works, we sign this week. If not, we won't waste your time."

Shoppers stared at the pot of cold tea on the table for ten seconds, then nodded. "Okay. 18.5 billion."

The signing day was October 25th. The weather had turned cold, and the ginkgo leaves in Uijeongbu were mostly yellow. Chairman Wang Shunyi didn't go; Zhang Junhao took a lawyer. After signing, Zhang Junhao called back and said, "Shoppers sat in his chair without moving after signing, his eyes red."

Chairman Wang Shunyi held the phone and was silent for two seconds. "Tell him we will try our best to keep his workers, and give compensation to those we don't keep."

"I did. He said thank you."

After Dongdaemun Foods merged, the total number of employees at Shunyi Foods Group reached one hundred and eighty. Chairman Wang Shunyi turned that factory into a second production base, specializing in high-end product lines—black pork stew, Busan fish cake soup, and other high-priced categories. The original contract manufacturing orders were gradually reduced, and the freed-up capacity was used for their own brand.

At the end of December, the annual summary meeting.

The location was the large conference room in the building in Guro-gu. One hundred and eighty people couldn't fit, so the administration department added two rows of plastic stools in the corridor. The projector displayed the 2024 performance summary: annual sales of 92 billion, net profit of 8.5 billion, net profit margin of 9.2 percent. 180 employees, 15 products, channels covering major retailers nationwide, plus two overseas platforms, Shopee and Lazada.

Chairman Wang Shunyi stood on the stage without a script.

"At this time last year, we were sitting here, and I said this year's goal was 90 billion. Do you remember?"

Someone below laughed. At that time, everyone thought he was bragging.

"We did it." He pointed to the numbers on the projector screen. "92 billion."

The applause started, much more enthusiastic than the one in September. The old employees in the front row clapped the hardest, and Kim Tae-min clapped until his hands were red.

"But 92 billion, what does it count for in the Korean food industry? It's a fraction. CJ makes 12 trillion a year; we don't even make a fraction of theirs. So next year, our goal is to double it—200 billion."

The applause stopped. Too daring to say.

"200 billion is not shouted out." Chairman Wang Shunyi walked to the whiteboard and picked up a pen. "We need to do a few things next year. First, the overseas market needs to be expanded; not just Southeast Asia, we need to enter Japan and China as well. Second, the high-end product line must continue to be promoted; high-margin categories are our lifeline. Third, channels need to be deepened; local supermarkets, community convenience stores, we must get into everything we can."

He finished writing and turned around.

"200 billion means everyone has to carry twice the workload. It will be tiring, there will be overtime, there will be no time to spend with family. But when we reach 200 billion, looking back at today, we will feel it was worth it."

No one spoke. Zhang Junhao sat in the front row, the first to stand up, and clapped. Then Park Min-ji stood up, Kim Tae-min stood up, Jung Soo-yeon stood up, and the people on the two rows of plastic stools in the back also stood up. The applause turned from sparse to a roar, finally merging into a booming sound that reverberated in the conference room.

After the meeting, the crowd slowly dispersed. Chairman Wang Shunyi stood alone on the stage, looking at the empty conference room. The chairs were crooked, there were some waste papers on the floor, the projector screen hadn't been put away, and the words "2024 Annual Summary" were still reflected on it. People were talking and laughing in the corridor, and the sound of footsteps faded away.

Park Min-ji pushed the door and came in, holding his coat.

"Let's go, everyone has left."

"Hmm." He took the coat, didn't put it on, and draped it over his arm.

The two walked out of the conference room side by side. The lights in the corridor were half off, the light was much dimmer, and the shadows were dragged long. When they reached the elevator, she suddenly said: "President, can we really reach 200 billion next year?"

"What do you think?"

"I don't know. But you said we could do it, so I believe you."

The elevator arrived, the doors opened, and it was empty inside. He went in first, and she followed behind. When the doors closed, the light outside was cut off, and there was only one light in the elevator, humming.

He looked at the shadows of the two people reflected on the elevator door and said: "200 billion is just a number. What I want to do is not 200 billion."

"Then what is it?"

"It's to make the name Shunyi Foods appear in every convenience store, every supermarket, and on every family's dining table. Whether in Korea or in other countries."

The elevator reached the first floor, and the doors opened. It was very cold outside, the wind blew in from the door gap, and she shrank her neck. He handed her the coat, she took it and put it on, and the two walked out of the building. The streetlights were on, there were few people on the street, only an occasional taxi driving by in the distance, its taillights dragging a red trail of light.

"Let's go, I'll send you back."

"Hmm."

The two walked on the sidewalk, their shadows lengthening and shortening under the streetlights. She walked on his right, her shoulder occasionally touching his arm. He didn't dodge, and she didn't dodge either. The wind blew from the north, carrying the smell of the coming winter, dry and cold, but there was no snow. He looked up, and there was a very bright star in the sky, hanging next to Namsan Tower, motionless.