58: Chapter 58 A New Journey

On the night of the IPO, Chairman Wang Shunyi didn't go to the celebratory banquet. He left Zhang Junhao and Park Min-ji at the scene to deal with reporters and investors, while he returned to his office alone. In that small building in Seongdong-gu, the lights were still on. Kim Tae-min was waiting for him at the door, holding a courier package.

"President, this arrived this afternoon. I saw it was from the Tax Bureau, so I didn't dare open it."

Chairman Wang Shunyi took it and tore open the seal. Inside was an official document, the gist of which was to congratulate Shunyi Foods on becoming a listed company and to request that it fulfill its information disclosure obligations according to the law. He placed the document on the desk, sat in his chair, and stared at the ceiling for a while. There was a fluorescent light on the ceiling with two tubes; one of them was slightly blackened, exactly the same as it had been two years ago.

After moving to the new office, he had someone dismantle this old light and install it here. Zhang Junhao didn't understand, saying the lights in the new office were much brighter than this one. He said he was used to it. In fact, it wasn't just about being used to it; it was because this light had watched him transform from a street stall vendor into the boss of a listed company, and he couldn't bear to throw it away.

The days that followed didn't slow down because of the listing. Instead, they became even faster.

The October strategy meeting lasted the whole day. Zhang Junhao drew a map of Southeast Asia on the whiteboard and circled three countries with a red pen—Vietnam, Indonesia, and Thailand.

"President, the Korean market is saturated. Nongshim has been rooted here for fifty years; we can't make a dent in them. But Southeast Asia is different. There are six hundred million people there, and the per capita consumption of instant noodles is twice that of Korea. The market is huge, growth is fast, and there's no absolute hegemon." He pointed at the red circle, "Vietnam ranks first. Last year, eighty-five billion packs of instant noodles were sold, making it fourth in the world. The market is dominated by two brands—Hao Hao and Miwon, both of which are low-end brands. The mid-to-high-end market is a blank space."

Park Min-ji opened her notebook. "I lived in Vietnam for two years. Consumers there prefer sour and spicy flavors. Price sensitivity is higher than in Korea, but the middle class is growing and willing to pay for quality. I suggest we first launch a mid-to-high-end product, priced neither too expensive nor too cheap."

Chairman Wang Shunyi thought for a moment. "Do market research first. Don't have a third party do it; send our own people. Stay there and see how Vietnamese people buy groceries, how they browse supermarkets, and how they eat instant noodles. Only when the research is thorough can the product be done right."

In November, Zhang Junhao took a team and flew to Ho Chi Minh City. He stayed for three weeks, visited seventeen supermarkets, twelve traditional markets, and eight convenience stores, took over three hundred photos of shelves, and bought over forty packs of different brands of instant noodles to bring back for tasting. When he returned, he had lost a lot of weight and was quite tanned, but his eyes were bright.

"President, the way Vietnamese people eat instant noodles is different from Koreans. They like to cook the noodles and side dishes separately and then mix them together. The soup isn't important; what matters is the aroma of the sauce. Hao Hao's sauce is sweet, Miwon's is salty, and there's no sour and spicy bestseller. This is a gap we can fill."

"Sour and spicy flavor?" Chairman Wang Shunyi pondered, "Vietnamese-style sour and spicy noodles?"

"Exactly. Use tamarind for the acidity, chili for the heat, and a little bit of fish sauce for the umami."

"You've even researched fish sauce?"

"I ate pho every day over there. As I ate, I figured it out."

When Lee Chang-ho took on the task, his expression was very serious. "I haven't used tamarind before, so I'll have to test it. Fish sauce too; the flavor profiles of different brands vary greatly. I need to find the one that pairs best with our sauce."

He experimented for three weeks. The first version was too sour, the second too salty, the third had too strong a fish sauce smell, and the fourth was finally right. The ratio of tamarind acidity to chili heat was perfect, and the fish sauce only faintly emerged in the aftertaste without overshadowing the main stars.

The price was set at fifteen thousand Vietnamese Dong, approximately six hundred and fifty Korean Won. It was twenty percent more expensive than Hao Hao, but much cheaper than products back in Korea. The packaging used the red and yellow colors favored by Vietnamese people, with a photo of a bowl of sour and spicy noodles printed on the front, looking very tempting.

The trial sales were arranged at eight WinMart supermarkets in Ho Chi Minh City. Four hundred packs were sold in the first three days, six hundred on the fourth day, and a thousand on the fifth. People began posting pictures on social media with captions like 'Korean brand, Vietnamese taste, delicious.' A local food blogger even made a review video, comparing Sunyi's sour and spicy noodles with Hao Hao, saying Sunyi's sauce was richer and the texture more complex.

In mid-December, Chairman Wang Shunyi made a trip to Ho Chi Minh City. He stood in front of a shelf in WinMart, looking at Sunyi's products placed alongside Hao Hao. The packaging design was recognizable, catching the eye instantly on the colorful shelves.

Zhang Junhao stood beside him, holding a cup of Vietnamese iced coffee that was cloyingly sweet. "President, next month we're expanding from eight stores to a hundred. In the first half of next year, we'll strive for five hundred. In the second half, we'll open up Indonesia and Thailand."

"No rush." Chairman Wang Shunyi looked at the shelf. "Once we're stable in Vietnam, then we move forward. Take one solid step before taking the next."

He picked up a pack of Sunyi sour and spicy noodles and turned it over; the ingredient list was printed in both Korean and Vietnamese. Seeing Vietnamese characters alongside Korean felt novel, yet grounding.

At the end of December, Shunyi Foods released its first annual report after listing. When Park Min-ji reported at the shareholders' meeting, a set of numbers popped up on the large screen—total revenue of 720 billion, net profit of 42 billion, and market share stabilized at fifth place. It was an increase of over thirty percent from last year.

The shareholders applauded enthusiastically. Chairman Wang Shunyi stood on the stage, looking at the familiar faces below—Jun-ho was in the first row, Minji was beside him, and Kim Tae-min, Cha In-pyo, and Lee Chang-ho were sitting in the back. There were also some unfamiliar faces, institutional investors who had recently joined, dressed in suits and looking serious.

"Shareholders, over the past year, we completed our listing, entered the Vietnamese market, and launched a healthy food series. I thank every shareholder for your trust in Shunyi Foods." He paused. "But I don't want to give you empty platitudes. In the business world, there are no ever-victorious generals, only generals who refuse to die. As long as Shunyi Foods doesn't die, it will keep moving forward."

After the meeting adjourned, Choi Jae-won came over to shake his hand. The old man was wearing a dark gray suit with a dark red tie, looking very energetic. "President Wang, I hold a five percent stake in Shunyi Foods; I am now one of your shareholders."

"Mr. Choi, thank you for your continued support."

"It's not support, it's an investment." Choi Jae-won smiled. "I'm a good judge of character. You are worth investing in."

After he left, Zhang Junhao leaned in. "President, what did Mr. Choi mean by that?"

"It means he wants to see us continue making money."

At eleven o'clock that night, Chairman Wang Shunyi returned to his office alone. That old fluorescent light was still on, and the blackened tube seemed even darker. He sat in his chair, picked up his phone, and saw a text message from Kim Dong-hyun.

"Congratulations on the listing."

Just four words. No period.

He stared at the message for a few seconds before typing a reply: "Thank you. Chairman Kim, how have you been lately?"

After a while, the reply came: "Fishing. Growing flowers. Taking care of my grandson."

Chairman Wang Shunyi wanted to reply further but hesitated and put the phone down. Outside the window, Seoul was still bright, and the light of Namsan Tower was flashing. He stood up, turned off the light, and walked out. The motion-sensor lights in the hallway turned on and then off. The sound of his footsteps echoed in the empty corridor, step by step, steady, as if measuring something.

He walked to the elevator and pressed the down button. The elevator rose from the first floor, the doors opened to an empty, lit interior. He stepped inside, the doors closed, and everything outside was cut off.