61: Chapter 61 The Game Changer

Before the New Year holiday was even over, Zhang Junhao flew to Manila. He spent the entire flight reviewing documents, and upon landing, he sent a message to Chairman Wang Shunyi: "President, Filipinos love noodles even more than I imagined." Chairman Wang Shunyi replied with a simple "Understood." He knew Zhang Junhao; he wasn't one to make such statements lightly. If he said it, there was a real opportunity.

Zhang Junhao stayed in Manila for twelve days. He stayed at a mid-range hotel in Makati, leaving at seven every morning and returning at ten at night. He visited sixteen supermarkets, twenty-one convenience stores, and four traditional markets. He bought all twelve of the best-selling instant noodle varieties in the Philippines and tried them one by one in his hotel room. On the fifth day, he called Chairman Wang Shunyi.

"President, the Filipino palate is different from Vietnam and Thailand. They like sweet things—not the sweetness of fruit, but a sweet and savory blend. For instance, their national noodle brand, Luck Me, has a very distinct sweet and salty flavor."

"So, how should we develop our product?"

"Make it sweet and savory. The sauce needs to be thick, and the noodles should be on the thicker side to provide a satisfying chew. The price can't be high; twenty-five pesos a pack, which is about six hundred won. It's thirty percent more expensive than Luck Me, but cheaper than other imported brands."

When Lee Chang-ho received the assignment, he was in the middle of fine-tuning the recipe for Malaysian curry noodles. He frowned upon hearing Zhang Junhao's description. "Sweet and savory? That ratio is hard to balance. Too sweet and it's cloying; too salty and it's overpowering. We need to find the perfect equilibrium."

He locked himself in the kitchen for five days. The first version was too sweet, like sugar-water noodles; the second was too salty, like soy sauce noodles; the third version added vinegar and garlic, balancing the sour, sweet, and salty notes, but Zhang Junhao said over the phone that it "didn't taste like the Philippines." Lee Chang-ho thought about it, removed the vinegar, and added a bit of dried plantain powder—something he had learned about at a Filipino food expo. dried plantain powder adds a unique sweet aroma to the sauce that isn't cloying and carries a hint of caramel. When the fourth version was sent to Manila, Zhang Junhao cooked a pack on-site, took one bite, and immediately called Lee Chang-ho: "This is the taste."

In mid-February, Sunyi Philippines' Filipino-style sweet and savory noodles went on trial at thirty SM Supermarkets in Manila. They sold two thousand packs in the first three days, three thousand on the fourth day, and five thousand by the seventh day. The growth curve was practically a vertical line. More importantly, local food bloggers began promoting it spontaneously. A blogger named Ninong Ry posted: "A Korean brand with a Filipino taste—this noodle is good." He included a photo of a bowl topped with a fried egg and two slices of luncheon meat. After the post went live, search volume for Sunyi Philippines skyrocketed by more than tenfold.

Distributors began reaching out proactively. Entry fees that were previously non-negotiable were suddenly discounted, and those who previously demanded a three-month payment period suddenly agreed to one month. When Zhang Junhao called back, he said with a laugh, "President, this is the benefit of having a good product. You don't have to beg people; they beg you."

In early March, Chairman Wang Shunyi convened a strategic meeting in Seoul. The core management teams from Shunyi Foods and Jins Foods were all present, filling the conference room to capacity. Zhang Junhao had rushed back from Manila, and though his eyes were bloodshot from jet lag, his spirits were high. He projected a map of Southeast Asia onto the large screen, with Vietnam, Indonesia, Thailand, Malaysia, and the Philippines all marked in red.

"President, the first phase in Southeast Asia is complete. The next step isn't to expand into new countries, but to go deeper into these five. We need to reach five hundred thousand packs a month in Vietnam, one million in Indonesia, three hundred thousand in Thailand, two hundred thousand in Malaysia, and one hundred and fifty thousand in the Philippines."

"That adds up to over two million packs. What are our monthly sales in Korea?" Chairman Wang Shunyi asked.

"Over three million packs in Korea. It's only a matter of time before overseas sales surpass Korea."

Park Min-ji opened her notebook. "President, there's one more thing. Nongshim has also been making big moves in Southeast Asia recently. They signed an exclusive agreement with a local distributor in Vietnam and snatched several of our shelf positions."

Chairman Wang Shunyi didn't rush to answer. He stood up, walked to the whiteboard, and drew a simple matrix. The horizontal axis was price, and the vertical axis was quality.

"Nongshim wants to target the mid-to-high-end market, but they have three flaws. First, they are slow to pivot. When the Vietnamese wanted tom yum goong noodles, it took Nongshim three months to develop them; we did it in three weeks. Second, their channels are inflexible; they are tied too closely to large distributors, and small channels don't want to touch them. Third, their brand isn't localized. They're still selling 'Shin Ramyun' in Vietnam—who in Vietnam knows Shin Ramyun? We sell Vietnamese-style hot and sour noodles."

"So our strategy remains unchanged—fast, flexible, and localized. If Nongshim wants to follow, let them. They have fifty years of history and heavy baggage. We have nothing, which actually allows us to run faster."

In the first week of April, Shunyi Foods' brand upgrade plan officially launched. Park Min-ji, along with the new CMO Kim Soo-jin—a marketing director poached from Samsung Electronics—prepared three versions of the proposal. Chairman Wang Shunyi chose the most expensive one.

"President, the budget for this version is twenty billion won," Kim Soo-jin reminded him.

"Twenty billion it is. Branding isn't spending money; it's an investment."

The theme of the new advertisement was "Quality Comes from the Heart," featuring the production lines of Shunyi Foods' factories. It captured everything from the raw material warehouse to the sealing of the seasoning packets, and from the quality inspection room to the final product dispatch. The visuals were clean and sharp, with no celebrities or exaggerated copy—just the sound of machines running and the focused profiles of quality inspectors. The thirty-second ad aired during prime time on the three major television networks for a week.

The results were better than expected. It wasn't just about how much sales increased, but rather that consumer perception had changed. Searches for "Shunyi Foods" on NAVER doubled, and the associated keywords shifted from "spicy fire chicken noodles" to "good quality" and "trustworthy." Kim Soo-jin remarked at a marketing meeting, "Consumers used to buy Sunyi because it was delicious; now they buy it because they feel safe. Deliciousness can be replicated, but peace of mind cannot."

In May, Shunyi Foods' talent acquisition plan moved forward simultaneously. Headhunters recruited Marketing Director Kim Soo-jin from Samsung, Supply Chain Expert Jung Woo-sung from LG, and CFO Lee Eun-ha from BNP Paribas. All three were in their early forties and had over twenty years of experience in their respective fields. Their salaries were more than double those of Sunyi's original executives, but Chairman Wang Shunyi felt it was worth it.

On her first day, Lee Eun-ha re-evaluated the financial processes of Shunyi and Kims. The next day, she went to Chairman Wang Shunyi and said, "President, there's an issue with the procurement process at Kims. Purchases under three hundred thousand won don't require budget approval. This level of authority is too broad; it's an accident waiting to happen."

"What do you suggest?"

"Anything over three hundred thousand must be approved. For anything under, we'll conduct monthly spot checks. Any department with issues for two consecutive months will have their independent procurement rights revoked."

"Change it."

In June, Nongshim Foods announced a large-scale price reduction. Park Jung-chul stated at a press conference that Nongshim would reduce the prices of ten of its main products by ten to fifteen percent to give back to consumers. When a reporter asked if this was due to competition from Shunyi Foods, he smiled and said, "Nongshim has always given back to its customers. This isn't the first time, and it won't be the last."

When the news reached the Shunyi Foods office, Zhang Junhao was the first to swear. Park Min-ji frowned, while Kim Soo-jin leaned back in her chair without saying a word.

Chairman Wang Shunyi sat at the head of the table, twirling a pen in his hand. "Jun-ho, do you think we should follow suit?"

"We shouldn't. Our profit margins are lower than Nongshim's; we can't withstand a price war."

"Minji?"

"We shouldn't follow. It would ruin our brand image. Consumers will think we were overcharging them before."

"Xiuzhen?"

"I agree we shouldn't follow. But I suggest we do one thing—issue an announcement. We won't lower prices, but we'll increase the added value. For example, a 'buy five, get one free' deal, or increasing the quantity without raising the price."

Chairman Wang Shunyi put down his pen. "Xiuzhen's plan is right. We won't lower the price, but we'll give consumers a benefit. Keep the price the same and increase the portion size by ten percent. Nongshim is cutting prices by fifteen percent, and we're increasing quantity by ten percent. Consumers will do the math and see which is a better deal."

In mid-July, Shunyi Foods' increased-quantity packaging hit the market. The fire chicken noodles went from 140 grams to 154 grams, the plant-based noodles from 130 grams to 143 grams, and every item in the functional series was increased by ten to fifteen grams. A large "10% Extra" label was printed on the packaging, and when placed next to Nongshim products, the comparison was very direct.

In August, search volume for Shunyi Foods on NAVER's trending list surpassed Nongshim's for the first time. It wasn't because of negative news, but because someone had posted on a forum: "Nongshim is cutting prices, Sunyi is increasing quantity—which is the better deal?" The poster did a detailed breakdown: after the price cut, a pack of Nongshim Shin Ramyun was 1,200 won, while a pack of Sunyi's increased-quantity fire chicken noodles was 2,000 won. While Nongshim was cheaper per pack, when calculated per gram, Sunyi was only eight percent more expensive. The post concluded with: "I'm choosing Sunyi. Good taste is the ultimate logic."

The comments section exploded with over two hundred replies. Some said, "Nongshim is the national staple; it's impossible for them to lose," while others said, "Sunyi's fire chicken noodles are truly delicious, I'd buy them even if they're a bit expensive." Finally, someone posted: "You guys keep arguing; I'm going to go cook some noodles."

At the September board meeting, Park Min-ji reported the third-quarter results. The combined revenue of Shunyi and Kims was 320 billion won, with a net profit of 23 billion won. The overseas market share surpassed forty percent for the first time. Their market share held steady in fourth place, and the gap with the third-place company narrowed from two percent to just one percent.

After listening, Choi Jae-won took off his glasses and wiped them. "President Wang, two years ago you said you wanted to become number one in Korea. At the time, I thought it was just a young man's boast. I don't think so anymore."

Chairman Wang Shunyi smiled. "Mr. Choi, it's not first place yet. There's still a third place ahead of us. Next year, we'll take that third spot."

After the meeting adjourned, it started to rain outside. Chairman Wang Shunyi stood at the company entrance waiting for his car, with Park Min-ji standing beside him. Both watched the curtain of rain in silence. When the car arrived, he held the door open for her to get in first, then sat in the passenger seat. As the car drove off, the windshield wipers swung back and forth with a rhythmic squeak.

"President, can we really take third place next year?" she asked.

"Whether we get it or not isn't for me to say; it's for us to do," he said, looking out the window. Seoul was gray in the rain, with shop lights glowing along the streets as people hurried past under umbrellas. "But I know one thing—Nongshim's price cut didn't work well this time. Their market share didn't grow; it actually dropped a little. Consumers aren't falling for that anymore."

"Then what do you think consumers are looking for?"

"They want something good. They want something they can trust. They want to feel like it's worth the price after they've eaten it." He turned to look at her. "In the past, Koreans only looked at the price of instant noodles because they were all more or less the same. Now it's different. Sunyi has raised the bar. Nongshim wants to keep up, but they can't."

The car stopped in front of her apartment building. She opened the door, held up her umbrella, and looked back at him. "President, drive carefully."

"Yeah. Get some rest."

She turned and walked into the building, her footsteps splashing in the puddles. He watched her enter, saw the hallway light on the first floor turn on and then off, before telling the driver to go.

At the end of December, Chairman Wang Shunyi was going over the year-end data in his office. Park Min-ji stood beside him, holding a hot Americano. On the whiteboard were next year's goals—third in market share, fifty percent overseas market share, and a total revenue of 1.2 trillion won.

He put down his pen and turned to look at her. "Minji, you've been with Sunyi for three years now. We've gone from a dozen people to thousands, and from a semi-basement to this building. Do you have any regrets?"

She placed the coffee on the desk and shook her head. "No. I've never regretted it."

Snow began to fall outside. The flakes were small, drifting down and melting as soon as they touched the glass. He watched for a while, then picked up his coat, turned off the lights, and walked out. The motion-sensor lights in the hallway flickered on and then off. The sound of his footsteps echoed in the empty corridor—steady and rhythmic, as if counting the days for him.