Chapter 126 Foxconn's Choice: Choosing Sides with Xinghai!

Glass shards pierced deep into the flesh of his palm.

Bright red blood mixed with dark red wine, streaming down through Cook's fingers.

"Drip," "drip," it landed on the expensive wool carpet.

The red veins in his eyes had completely burst.

The muscles at the corners of his eyes twitched violently, but he couldn't even feel the pain.

His mind was filled only with his assistant's verdict: "The production lines have all been taken by Xinghai."

The assistant pressed tightly against the doorframe.

Too scared to even breathe, his legs were shaking uncontrollably.

"Boss, your hand..." The assistant swallowed dryly, his voice trembling like a piece of rag in the cold wind.

"Shut up!"

Cook, like a beast with no way out, forced the words through his teeth.

He threw away the glass shards in his hand, blood splattering onto the mahogany desk.

"Connect to Shenzhen immediately! Get me Mr. Guo from Foxconn!"

Cook breathed heavily, his chest feeling like it was stuffed with lit dry wood.

"Tell him! If he dares to accept Xinghai's foundry order, Apple will pull all of its assembly lines out of the country next month!"

He loosened his tie, revealing a neck full of bulging veins.

"Move all the production lines to India! Let their Chinese workers go hungry!"

Across the ocean.

Shenzhen, Foxconn headquarters building.

The sun outside was so scorching it could melt the asphalt road.

The air was thick with sticky heat.

In the chairman's office on the top floor, the air conditioning was set to sixteen degrees.

But Mr. Guo sat in the large boss's chair, sweat beads rolling down his forehead.

He gripped two freshly printed fax documents.

The paper crinkled loudly in his hand.

One was a death order from Apple headquarters in California.

It was marked with a red-ink threat: "Relocate production lines to India."

The other was a foundry intent letter just sent by Xinghai Technology.

It bore Xinghai's bright red official seal, and the order volume was large enough to burst Foxconn's production capacity.

"Good heavens, this is like putting me on a spit to roast."

Mr. Guo picked up the purple clay teacup on the table, his hands shaking violently.

Tea spilled out, scalding the back of his hand, but he didn't even bother to wipe it.

On one side was the foreign patron he had served for ten years.

On the other was the new Eastern god of wealth who had forcefully cut through the upstream of the Apple supply chain.

If he chose the wrong side, a massive factory with hundreds of thousands of people would be starving by tomorrow.

"Bang!"

The office door was pushed open.

The female secretary, in high heels, ran in frantically.

"Mr. Guo! I couldn't stop them!"

The secretary panted, her makeup half-ruined from the shock.

"Mr. Lu from Xinghai Technology is here! He didn't even register at the front desk, he came straight to the top floor!"

The teacup in Mr. Guo's hand dropped onto the desk with a "clang."

Tea flowed all over the table.

As soon as the words fell, Chu Xuan walked in, wearing that blue shirt with yellow flowers, swaggering in.

He held that crumpled tissue in his hand, wiping the grease and sweat from his neck haphazardly.

"Oh, Mr. Guo, you've got the AC cranked up pretty high here."

Chu Xuan grinned, revealing his gold tooth.

"We were out there sweating buckets downstairs, how come you're breaking into a cold sweat in here?"

Lu Jingming followed behind Chu Xuan, one hand in his pocket.

He was still wearing that washed-out black T-shirt, paired with old jeans.

His old sneakers stepped on the wool carpet without making a sound.

Mr. Guo stood up quickly.

He walked around the desk to greet them, his fake smile looking worse than crying.

"Mr. Lu... Mr. Lu. You've graced us with your presence, why didn't you give us a heads-up?"

Mr. Guo reached out his hand, his palm covered in sticky cold sweat.

Lu Jingming didn't shake his hand.

He walked past him, went to the leather sofa in the reception area, and sat down.

He crossed his legs, nonchalantly resting them on the edge of the glass coffee table.

Lu Jingming leaned against the back of the chair and curled the corner of his mouth.

A half-side of his white canine tooth was visible.

"When dealing with smart people, there's no need to beat around the bush."

Lu Jingming reached his right hand into his jeans pocket.

He pulled out a black and gold metal USB drive, along with a stack of stapled A4 paper gambling agreements.

"Slap."

He flicked his wrist, and the items landed heavily on the glass coffee table.

"Mr. Guo, both Luxshare and Goertek have signed my orders."

Lu Jingming's voice was lazy, yet it carried a ferocity that made it hard to breathe.

"Now, all that's missing is your final step. The assembly line, are you taking it or not?"

Mr. Guo swallowed dryly, his Adam's Apple bobbing violently.

He walked over to the sofa, not daring to sit fully, only perched on the edge.

"Mr. Lu, aren't you making things difficult for me?"

Mr. Guo's throat was dry as smoke.

"Apple just sent a death order. If I accept your order, they're going to move all the production lines to India."

Chu Xuan rolled his eyes beside him.

He sat down on the single sofa, stuffing the soaked tissue back into his pocket.

"Give it a rest, Mr. Guo." Chu Xuan snorted coldly.

"Cook can't even gather enough glass panels or camera lenses right now."

"Even if he moves the production lines to India, what is he going to use to assemble them? Using curry to glue the phones?"

Mr. Guo was stunned.

He looked down at the Xinghai gambling agreement on the coffee table.

As if possessed, he reached out and opened the first page.

Just one glance.

Mr. Guo's pupils dilated violently, and his eyes instantly filled with red bloodshot veins.

"Single... single unit assembly profit doubled?!"

His voice cracked, like an old duck stepped on by the neck.

"Mr. Lu, your terms... did you print an extra zero by mistake?"

You have to know, Apple was famous for being a cheapskate.

They had squeezed Foxconn for over a decade, and the profit margin was as thin as a razor blade.

Lu Jingming didn't answer.

He tapped his knuckles on the black and gold USB drive, "thud, thud" sounding.

"Money is a minor issue. The things in this USB drive are the lifeblood that will secure your wealth."

Mr. Guo, with trembling hands, plugged the USB drive into the laptop on the table next to him.

He double-clicked to open the file.

Dozens of complex mechanical blueprints popped up on the screen instantly.

Fully automatic high-precision robotic arms, optical positioning assembly grippers, micron-level dispensing lines.

Lu Jingming leaned back on the sofa.

His eyes were as cold as razor blades pulled from an ice cellar.

"Blueprints for fully automated robotic assembly lines."

Lu Jingming exhaled a long breath.

"Xinghai will cover all the costs for equipment upgrades. If you switch to this system, your yield rate can be locked firmly above ninety-nine percent."

Mr. Guo's head went "buzz."

It was as if he had been struck hard on the back of the head by a hundred-pound iron hammer.

Blood rushed to his head.

With these blueprints, Foxconn could completely escape the quagmire of low-end manual assembly.

They could jump directly to become the world's top smart manufacturing giant.

But after his heart raced for a moment, it tightened again.

"But Mr. Lu..."

Sweat beads on Mr. Guo's forehead "drip" landed on the keyboard.

"If I switch everything to robotic arms, what happens to the livelihoods of the hundreds of thousands of assembly line workers under me?"

Lu Jingming sneered.

His eyes showed absolute clarity and dominance.

"The Americans need sweatshops, which is why they've kept you maintaining hundreds of thousands of cheap laborers."

Lu Jingming leaned forward.

"Why should the Chinese people spend generations screwing in bolts for the foreigners?"

He stared into Mr. Guo's eyes.

"Once you sign this order, the doubled profit will be enough for you to retrain those workers for technical maintenance."

"The era is moving forward; do you still expect to get rich relying on human wave tactics?"

There was a deathly silence in the office.

Only the white noise of the air conditioner blowing air.

Mr. Guo clenched his fists tightly.

His fingernails dug deep into his palm, but he couldn't make the final, hard decision.

He had relied on the big tree that was Apple for too long; deep down, he was afraid.

Lu Jingming didn't have the patience to watch him hesitate.

He took out that one-dollar green plastic lighter with his left hand.

He spun it rapidly between his fingers.

His thumb pressed on the metal grinding wheel.

"Click."

A crisp mechanical friction sound rang out.

A ghostly blue flame suddenly shot out.

Carrying the pungent smell of low-quality kerosene, it danced between the two of them.

The fire illuminated Mr. Guo's pale, weak face.

Lu Jingming stared at the flame, half of his sharp canine tooth flashing with a cold light.

He casually extinguished the flame.

He flicked his wrist.

"Slap."

The green plastic lighter was thrown onto the glass coffee table, right next to the gambling agreement.

The plastic shell hit the glass, making a crisp sound.

Mr. Guo held his breath, his back already completely soaked with cold sweat.

His shirt was stuck tightly to his skin, feeling ice-cold.

Sweat beads on Mr. Guo's forehead dripped onto the mahogany desk.

Lu Jingming pulled out the plastic lighter and threw it next to the agreement. "Click."

"Mr. Guo, I'll give you one minute to consider."

Lu Jingming stared at him, the pressure in his eyes draining the air out of the room.

"If you don't sign, tomorrow I will set up a super robot factory right next to your plant."