8: Chapter 8 Expansion

After the river snail rice noodles were listed, they sold even faster than Chairman Wang Shunyi had expected.

Fifty packs a day the first week. Eighty packs the second week. One hundred and twenty packs the third week.

Monthly sales for the online shop jumped from six hundred thousand to one point five million. Adding in the money from the night market, he could pocket over five million Korean won in a month.

Back when he had just graduated, he wouldn't have dared to even dream of such a number.

But Chairman Wang Shunyi didn't think it was enough.

He knew he couldn't go far relying solely on his two legs.

One night, the two met in the semi-basement. Jun-ho opened the computer and pulled up that Excel spreadsheet.

"Shunyi, this is the data for the past month." He pointed at the screen. "About two million from the night market and one point five million from the online shop, totaling three point five million. After deducting costs, the net profit is two point three million."

Chairman Wang Shunyi glanced at it and waited for him to continue.

"But there's a problem." Jun-ho frowned. "The night market side has stopped growing. There are only so many people visiting every day; it's reached its limit. If we want to go higher, we need to open new channels."

"You mean?"

"Offline. Convenience stores, supermarkets, school canteens—these places have a lot of people. As long as we get in, it won't be a problem to multiply sales several times over."

Chairman Wang Shunyi thought for a moment and nodded. "That makes sense. But what are the requirements to enter these places?"

"I've looked into it," Jun-ho said. "Large chains like CU, GS25, and 7-11 require negotiating with headquarters, and the threshold is high. But for small convenience stores and supermarkets, you just need to talk to the owners, which is relatively easy."

"Then let's start with the small ones," Chairman Wang Shunyi said. "You take charge of sales, and I'll continue with the night market and the online shop. We'll try a few stores first and see how it goes."

"Okay."

The next day, Zhang Junhao headed out on that second-hand motorcycle.

He stuffed several sample packs into his bag, along with a few printed photos and the social media screenshots saved on his phone.

The first store was near a subway station; it was a small convenience store with a modest storefront.

The owner was an old man in his sixties, sitting behind the counter looking at his phone. Hearing the door, he looked up at him.

"Young man, buying something?"

"No, Grandpa." Jun-ho leaned in with a smile. "I'm here to pitch a product. My friend has a type of super spicy instant noodles called fire chicken noodles that are incredibly popular among young people lately. I wanted to ask if I could sell them here?"

The old man frowned. "Instant noodles? I already have quite a few in the store, and they sell well enough. What's so special about yours?"

Jun-ho pulled a pack of fire chicken noodles from his bag and handed it over.

"Grandpa, these noodles are different from the ordinary ones. The spiciness is extremely high—more than three times that of regular spicy noodles. Many young people like to take on this super spicy challenge; it's very popular online."

He took out his phone and showed the old man several Instagram comments and tasting videos.

The old man squinted at the screen for a while and then nodded.

"It really is quite popular. Alright then, I'll take a few packs to try. If they don't sell, you have to take them back."

"No problem." Jun-ho felt relieved. "I'll leave ten packs with you first. The wholesale price is fifteen hundred a pack, and you can sell them for two thousand, making five hundred per pack. If they sell well, contact me to restock."

The old man took the goods and placed them randomly on the counter.

As Jun-ho left, he looked back at the packs of fire chicken noodles and felt they looked alright.

Over the next week, he covered almost all the small convenience stores and supermarkets in Seongdong-gu.

Some owners waved him away, saying they had no room; some said they wanted to take them on credit and pay only after they sold; others were quite straightforward and paid for the goods on the spot.

By the end of the week, he had struck deals with twenty stores.

The order volume for each store varied, from as few as ten packs to as many as thirty. In total, he had distributed five hundred packs of fire chicken noodles and two hundred packs of river snail rice noodles. If they all sold, the wholesale revenue would be about one million Korean won.

The profit was lower than retail, but this was the first step for the offline channel.

Two weeks later, Jun-ho went back for follow-up visits.

Most of the store owners gave positive feedback—the fire chicken noodles and river snail rice noodles were selling very well, and some stores were already out of stock.

"Young man, those fire chicken noodles of yours are really something," said the proprietress of one convenience store. "There's a college student who comes to buy two packs every day, saying he's addicted."

"That's great," Jun-ho said with a smile. "Do you need to restock?"

"Of course. Give me fifty packs of fire chicken noodles and thirty packs of river snail rice noodles this time. Oh, and do you have any other products? I want to try stocking a few more kinds."

"Yes, self-heating hot pots are also very popular."

"Then I'll take those too."

Jun-ho noted down the order and hummed a song as he rode his motorcycle to the next store.

Meanwhile, Chairman Wang Shunyi hadn't been idle either.

At the night market, he started holding a "Spiciness Challenge"—finish a bowl of fire chicken noodles within three minutes and get a free pack. Once this activity started, a crowd gathered around the stall. A boy wearing glasses was sweating profusely and his face was beet red, but he managed to hold on until the end. The onlookers cheered and applauded, some filming videos and others posting to their social media feeds.

The fame of the fire chicken noodles spread bit by bit like this.

On the online shop side, Lee Soo-yeon continued creating content. She filmed several short videos that were edited quite interestingly with catchy music. After running ads for a few days, the number of new customers in the backend surged.

Everything was moving forward.

One night, while Chairman Wang Shunyi was organizing stock in the semi-basement, his phone rang.

It was his mother calling.

"Shunyi, how have you been lately?" On the other end, his mother's voice sounded a bit tired, but it held that familiar concern.

"I'm doing well, Mom. Business has been good lately; I can earn several million Korean won a month."

"Several million?" His mother was startled. "That much?"

"Yeah. I'm working with a friend now, selling some special food products that are quite popular."

"That's good, that's good." His mother breathed a sigh of relief. "By the way, your dad... he wants to say a few words to you."

Chairman Wang Shunyi was stunned for a moment.

His relationship with his father wasn't exactly good.

His father was a typical Dragon Country-style parent—short-tempered and controlling. From childhood to adulthood, what books to read, what major to choose, and even coming to Korea to study abroad were all decided by his father. He was like a clay figure in his father's hands, molded into whatever shape his father wanted.

After coming to Korea, he had very little contact with his father. Every time he called, he would chat with his mother, and his father would occasionally chime in from the side, mostly with sarcasm—useless, a waste of money, an embarrassment.

"Let him take the phone," Chairman Wang Shunyi said calmly.

A few seconds later, his father's voice came through the receiver.

"Shunyi."

"Dad."

"I heard you're doing business?"

"Yes."

"What kind of business?"

"Selling instant noodles."

Silence followed for a few seconds on the other end.

"Instant noodles?" His father's voice was clearly disdainful. "You went to university for four years just to go to Korea and sell instant noodles?"

Chairman Wang Shunyi took a deep breath, suppressing the anger in his heart.

"Dad, this business is doing very well. I can earn several million Korean won a month now, which is twenty to thirty thousand RMB. It's better than many office workers."

"So what? What future is there in this? In the end, aren't you still just selling instant noodles?"

"I know." Chairman Wang Shunyi tried his best to remain calm. "But this is my own business, and I've only just started. It will get better in the future."

"Future?" His father let out a cold laugh. "What future do you have? You're a foreigner in Korea with no relatives or friends; what kind of future can you have? Come back as soon as possible, and I'll find you a stable job."

"I'm not coming back."

"What?"

"I said, I'm not coming back," Chairman Wang Shunyi said emphatically. "I'm going to carve out my own path in Korea. Whether you support me or not, I'm going to keep doing this."

There was a long silence on the other end.

Then his father's voice spoke again, calmer this time but still cold: "Suit yourself."

He hung up.

Chairman Wang Shunyi held the phone and stood under that dim yellow light, not moving for a long time.

He couldn't quite describe the feeling. It wasn't sadness, nor was it anger. His chest just felt tight.

After hanging up the phone, he sat in the semi-basement for a long time.

When Jun-ho pushed the door open and came in, he saw him sitting there in a daze, still clutching his phone.

"Shunyi, what's wrong?"

Chairman Wang Shunyi looked up and forced a small smile: "Nothing, just a call from home."

Jun-ho didn't ask further. He walked over, sat down beside him, pulled two bottles of beer from a plastic bag, and handed him one.

"Want a drink?"

Chairman Wang Shunyi took it, bit off the cap with his teeth, and took a large gulp. The ice-cold liquid went down his throat, making him feel a bit more clear-headed.

"Jun-ho," he said.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

Jun-ho was taken aback: "For what?"

"Thank you for being willing to work with me. Without you, I really wouldn't be able to handle this all by myself."

Jun-ho laughed and clinked his bottle against Shunyi's: "We're brothers, why say all that?"

Chairman Wang Shunyi nodded and took another sip. The beer was bitter and astringent, but it was just right for this moment.

"Jun-ho, we'll definitely make it," he said, his voice not loud but very firm. "One day, we will be the largest food company in Korea."

Jun-ho looked at him, said nothing, and just clinked his bottle again.

In the dim semi-basement, the two of them drank cheap beer and talked about the future.

Outside the window was the Seoul night. People were still walking on the streets, and cars were running. No one knew that in this semi-basement, two young men were dreaming a very big dream.