Chapter 50 Lying Down and Counting Money and the Malice of Japan

"Director!" Xue Jianhua looked at his superior in disbelief.

"I told you to sign!" Director Zhou slammed the pen onto the table. "For the sake of the country's foreign exchange earnings, what is this small sacrifice?"

"If you had the ability to come up with a product like this, I'd let you collect technical fees too!"

Xue Jianhua's face turned ashen.

He knew the game was over.

From today on, the once-mighty industry leader, Huashang Factory, had become a mere... laborer for the obscure Red Star Service Cooperative.

With trembling hands, he signed his name on the agreement.

In that moment, he felt as if he could hear the sound of the old era collapsing.

Lin Xi put away the contract, a brilliant smile appearing on his face.

He stood up and took the initiative to shake Xue Jianhua's cold hand.

"Factory Director Xue, happy cooperation."

"Don't look so glum."

"When the year-end dividends come, you'll thank me."

Xue Jianhua squeezed a few words through his teeth:

"Manager Lin... the younger generation is truly formidable."

The two Hongqi sedans drove away; as arrogant as they had been upon arrival, they were just as dejected upon departure.

Zhao Dagang stood at the office doorway.

Watching the receding taillights, he felt completely drained, having to lean against the doorframe to keep from collapsing.

"Ma... Manager Lin..." Zhao Dagang couldn't even speak properly.

"Did we... really bring Huashang Factory into the fold?"

"Not quite, we just found an OEM factory."

Lin Xi stood by the window, watching the assembly site downstairs busy once again, his eyes deep and thoughtful.

Shanghai, Huashang Factory.

All five production lines were running at full capacity.

The sand-casting workshop that originally produced cast-iron bases had stopped.

In its place were dozens of injection molding machines that had been deployed overnight.

The air was filled with the acrid smell of burning plastic and machine oil.

"Hurry! Line 3 is out of material!"

"Bring the modified PP pellets over!"

"Quality control!"

"The finish on this batch of fan grilles isn't good enough, melt them down and redo it!"

Xue Jianhua stood on the second-floor corridor, looking at the bustling scene below, his expression as complicated as if he had swallowed a dead fly.

The workshop that originally belonged to Huashang Factory was now producing nothing but that "Red Star" product with the red five-pointed star.

What made him even more frustrated was that he, a deputy factory director, had now practically become a high-level laborer for that young man surnamed Lin.

That Lin Xi had only given him a thin "SOP Standard Operating Procedure Manual" before kicking back in the office to drink tea.

Meanwhile, he had to supervise these thousands of workers, and even a one-millimeter error would result in him being held accountable.

One week later.

Hongfeng Machinery Factory's Shanghai office (actually just a suite in a guesthouse).

Lin Xi was leaning on the sofa, twirling a fountain pen in his hand.

Zhao Dagang was squatting on a chair, holding a remittance slip he had just retrieved from the Bank of China.

His eyes were wide as copper bells, and his hands were shaking as if he had Parkinson's.

"Ma... Manager Lin..."

Zhao Dagang swallowed hard.

"This amount... isn't right, is it?"

"What's wrong with it?" Lin Xi didn't even look up.

"This is the first settlement payment Huashang Factory sent to the Service Center, thirty-two thousand US dollars... that's nearly fifty thousand RMB!"

"The Service Center didn't do anything, just watched them work, and we get this much?"

Zhao Dagang's worldview had collapsed.

At Hongfeng Machinery Factory, workers had to bleed and sweat, get calluses on their hands, and work three shifts around the clock just to earn a few hard-earned pennies.

But now, Lin Xi had only provided a blueprint, a mold, and a set of standards.

Then, after a quick spin around Shanghai, money was crawling into their pockets as if it had grown legs.

"Old Zhao, close your mouth, your drool is dripping onto the check."

Lin Xi put down his pen, picked up his teacup, and blew away the foam, his tone as casual as if he were discussing today's weather.

"This is called a 'technical licensing fee,' also known as 'brand premium.'"

"You'll have to get used to it."

"Our Red Star acts as the brain, not the limbs."

"Let Huashang Factory do the sweating, and let the Service Center do the counting; this is what we call top-level supply chain design."

Zhao Dagang slapped his thigh hard and shouted:

"Damn it! This is just... too awesome!"

"Is this already awesome?"

Lin Xi smiled and pulled a telegram from his briefcase. "Look at this."

The telegram was entirely in English, sent from Los Angeles, Lighthouse Country.

Zhao Dagang couldn't read it, but he recognized the name at the bottom—Harrison.

"Mr. Harrison from Sears Department Store says that the first batch of one hundred thousand fans had just arrived at the Port of Long Beach when they were immediately snapped up by the distributors waiting at the dock."

Lin Xi pointed to the calendar on the wall.

"Today, the temperature on the North American West Coast has exceeded 41 degrees Celsius."

"Our fans are now a harder currency than gold in California."

"In the telegram, Harrison calls me 'Magic Lin,' and he wants to increase the order for the next quarter to eight hundred thousand units."

Zhao Dagang's mouth hung open, completely speechless.

He looked at the man before him, who was excessively young, and suddenly felt a chill down his spine.

This wasn't a magician.

This was simply a monster who calculated every move without a single flaw.

On the other side of the planet, with the explosive popularity of the "Red Star fan," some keen senses had already been triggered.

Japan, Osaka.

Triangle Electronics, Far East R&D Center.

In the bright, dust-free laboratory, a dark cyan "Red Star · gentle breeze" electric fan had been dismantled into parts scattered all over the floor.

Several Japanese engineers in white lab coats gathered around the test bench, their expressions serious, as if they were dissecting an alien corpse.

"Mr. President."

Technical Director Matsumoto bowed, holding the fan blade with its strange curvature. "We have tested it."

"This fan made in China has a noise level of only 42 decibels, and the wind feels extremely gentle."

"Meanwhile, our latest flagship model, the 'Gale,' has a noise level of 55 decibels."

President Tanaka, sitting in the main seat, had a gloomy expression:

"The reason?"

"The industrial level of the Chinese is still stuck in the post-war era; how could they possibly build something like this?"

"It's the design."

Matsumoto pointed to the fan blade.

"The airfoil design of this blade is extremely advanced, completely breaking the conventions of traditional fluid mechanics."

"Furthermore, their material formula includes a special toughening agent, which prevents the blades from vibrating at high speeds."

"Can it be copied?" Tanaka interrupted him.

"Very easily."

Matsumoto's face showed a look of disdainful mockery.

"Although the Chinese mold processing precision is not bad, in front of our Okuma five-axis linkage CNC machine tools, it's like a primary school student's graffiti."

"As long as we input the data, we can create steel molds with ten times their precision within three days!"

"Those idiots."

President Tanaka sneered and slammed the iron walnuts in his hand heavily onto the table.

"Then get to work!"

"Use the best steel and the most precise machine tools to build an identical product!"

"Slap the Triangle Electronics brand on it and set the price at 25 dollars."

"I want to squeeze this 'Red Star' out of the international market within three months!"

"Hai!"