Chapter 67 The Contempt of the Two Giants

Lin Xi sat behind the glass counter, fiddling with that matte black razor in his hand.

Standing opposite him were two foreigners whose nostrils were flared so high they were practically staring at the sky.

The one on the left was tall with a typically Germanic square jaw; he was Hans, the technical director of Braun from Germany.

The one on the right wore gold-rimmed glasses and had a face full of shrewd calculation; he was Vandersa, the chief engineer of Philips from the Netherlands.

These two companies were currently the top manufacturers in the global electric razor field.

"Vandersa, look, our Chinese counterparts have started making razors too."

Hans spoke in a German-accented English that sounded as if he had a mouthful of hot potatoes. He pointed at the large object behind Lin Xi, his shoulders shaking with laughter.

"This is a good sign; it shows the market is expanding."

"But... why did they put a razor next to a missile?"

He gestured exaggeratedly, "Are they afraid the motor won't turn, so they're preparing to use missile fuel to give the blade head a boost?"

Vandersa pushed up his glasses and followed up with a fake smile:

"Maybe they're worried about a lack of power and need to borrow some 'firepower'?"

"After all, Asian motor technology... Heh heh."

The two exchanged a look and burst into undisguised laughter.

The translator whispered the translation nearby, and Sun Erga's face beside the booth instantly turned the color of pig liver.

His fists creaked as he clenched them, and just as he was about to rush forward to argue, he was pinned in place by an indifferent glance from Lin Xi.

Lin Xi unhurriedly poured two cups of tea for them and pushed them to the edge of the table.

"You two gentlemen are quite humorous."

His tone was steady, showing no sign of being provoked.

"Our booth arrangement is indeed unique, but this precisely proves that the Red Star · Whirlwind adopts aerospace-grade technical standards."

"Aerospace-grade?"

With contempt on his face, Hans said, "Interesting."

"Do young people today think they can come out and swindle others just by learning a few technical terms?"

Hans leaned forward with a condescending sense of pressure.

"Young man, razors aren't built on talk."

"The core lies in the micro-motor and the precision of the foil mesh."

"Currently, only Germany and the Netherlands possess the industrial mass production capabilities for these two technologies."

"As for you..."

He swept a contemptuous gaze over the simple counter and shook his head.

"You'd better go back to making thermos bottles."

Vandersa took a delicate velvet bag out of his briefcase, carefully retrieved a silver-gray razor, and placed it next to Lin Xi's glass counter.

"This is a new product Philips is about to release."

Vandersa's tone was full of bragging.

"It features double-layer blades and a 2800 RPM high-speed motor—a global first."

Hans, not to be outdone, pulled a heavy black machine from his pocket and slapped it on the table.

"The model we're about to release uses a 0.08mm cold-rolled steel stamped foil mesh."

"Although the defect rate is as high as 30%, this is the physical limit of metal processing. This is Germanic craftsmanship!"

Although the two giants were competitors, they were as synchronized as twins when it came to "crushing the newcomer."

Vandersa glanced at Hans's machine and sneered:

"Hans, that cold-rolled steel of yours is heavy and hard, like a tractor."

"The user experience must be terrible, right? We at Philips pursue comfort."

Hans counterattacked with a cold laugh:

"Comfort?"

"That 2800 RPM toy motor of yours will stutter and snag when shaving stiff beards; that's stuff for sissies!"

"Even though our Braun machines are loud, that's a symbol of powerful energy! A real man should listen to the roar of a motor like this!"

The two of them went back and forth, starting a "humblebrag" style of bickering as if no one else were there.

In their words, a 2800 RPM motor and a 0.08mm foil mesh...

...were seemingly the pinnacle of human industrial civilization, an insurmountable red line drawn by God for mortals.

After arguing for a few sentences, the two seemed to feel a bit thirsty.

They simultaneously turned back to Lin Xi and asked in a mocking tone of "seniors advising a junior":

"Young man, don't just watch."

"Tell us about this so-called 'aerospace-grade' razor of yours."

"What's the motor speed? What's the foil thickness?"

Just as Lin Xi was about to speak, the bullet chat in his mind had already exploded.

[Pfft, hahaha! You're killing me. 2800 RPM is called a high-speed motor? The one I got from Pinduoduo for 9.9 yuan with free shipping is faster than that!]

[0.08mm is the limit? Brother Hans, do you have some kind of misunderstanding about the word 'limit'?]

[Streamer, don't say anything! Let them keep posturing! Whatever you do, don't interrupt!]

[Is this the industry ceiling of 1980? They really are like frogs at the bottom of a well.]

[Seeing Erga looking like he's about to explode makes me want to laugh. Hang in there, Erga, the satisfaction is coming soon!]

Lin Xi suppressed the smile at the corner of his mouth and took a sip of tea.

Before he could speak, Hans stared at the Red Star · Whirlwind in the glass counter and began an even more unscrupulous "professional critique."

"The exterior design is decent—all black and matte, very modern."

"But—"

Hans's tone shifted, and his gaze became sharp.

"A razor isn't a work of art; it's precision machinery."

"Your China's light industry foundation is weak; you can't even build a stable motor, so how could you possibly make a good razor?"

Vandersa followed up with another blow:

"Hans is right."

"I suggest you focus on the exterior design and outsource the motor and foil mesh to us."

"Philips can provide OEM services; you can just slap your brand on it."

"Of course, we won't transfer the core technology."

"This is better for everyone; at least it guarantees this thing will actually turn."

"What right do you have to say we can't build it?!"

Hearing the translator's words, Sun Erga finally couldn't take it anymore and rushed angrily to the front of the counter.

"Not only did we build it, but it's also ten thousand times better than yours!"

"Ten thousand times better? Hahahaha!"

After the translator whispered in his ear, Hans reacted as if he had heard the world's biggest joke, laughing until he was doubled over.

"Young man, ignorance isn't your fault, but coming out here to make a fool of yourself is your mistake."

He wiped the tears of laughter from the corners of his eyes.

"To make a micro-motor with high RPM, you need permanent magnet materials with a high magnetic energy product."

"That stuff is a strategic material; you people in China can't even touch the formula."

"Without that, your motor speed will be 1000 RPM at most!"

Vandersa added, his tone full of mockery:

"As for the foil mesh, 0.08mm is already the limit of the stamping process."

"Even with German stamping machines, anything thinner will tear."

"If you can make it thinner..."

He pointed to the Braun razor on the table. "I'll eat Hans's machine right here on the spot!"

Hans was taken aback. "Hey, why eat mine?"

"Because yours is harder and has a better texture."

After speaking, the two exchanged a look, their faces filled with triumphant expressions of 'we've already won.'

Around the booth, more and more foreign merchants, drawn by the argument, began to gather.

Some pointed, some whispered; the air was filled with the cheerful atmosphere of people who loved watching a good scene unfold.

"Since Braun and Philips have spoken, it seems this Chinese product really is no good."

"It's probably just a model. Look at that black paint; maybe it was brushed on with shoe polish."

"What a pity; putting it next to a missile was quite intimidating."

Large beads of sweat rolled down Section Chief Wang's forehead. He tugged at Lin Xi's sleeve, his voice trembling:

"Man... Manager Lin, what should we do?"

"Should I go get President Zhang to come and handle this?"

"These two foreigners are too arrogant. With so many people watching, our Seventh Ministry's reputation..."

"No need."

Lin Xi set down his teacup, his gaze piercing through the crowd toward the end of the exhibition hall corridor.

There, a middle-aged fat man in a high-end tailored suit, his face glowing with health, was walking over surrounded by a group of people.

"Our 'shill' has arrived," Lin Xi said softly.