Chapter One Hundred: Who Stole My Beef?

It was not until 1992 that Taiwan’s Uni-President Enterprises Group set up its first factory in mainland China: Xinjiang Uni-President Foods Co., Ltd.

Even in later years, Uni-President remained one of the largest Taiwan-funded investors in the mainland food industry.

When the group first entered the mainland market, it adopted a T-shaped strategy.

It used the coastal special economic zones and the development areas along the Yangtze River as its target markets for factory investment, then determined what businesses to establish in each region according to such factors as local national income, consumer purchasing power, consumer preferences, and the comparative competitive advantages of related industries.

In 1998, Uni-President established its mainland operations headquarters in Shanghai to oversee all of the company’s investments on the mainland.

The group divided the entire Chinese market into seven major regions: Northeast, North China, East China, Central China, West China, South China, and Xinjiang.

As for Master Kong Holdings Limited, Uni-President’s old rival, its rise was undoubtedly even more fantastical.

Master Kong’s flagship product was braised beef instant noodles, yet this infuriating thing supposedly slaughtered only one cow a year.

Environmentally friendly, perhaps. But where was the beef? Who had stolen his damned beef?

It was said that in the beginning, many people chose Master Kong Braised Beef Noodles precisely because they were after the beef inside.

No matter how scientific Uni-President’s marketing plans were, no matter how much it spent on advertising, it still fell before the two words: beef noodles.

Many people might not recognize the name Wei Yingzhou, but when it comes to the instant noodle brand that swept the nation in the twentieth century, it could only be Master Kong. And Wei Yingzhou was its founder.

He came from a solidly middle-class family.

His father ran an oil-processing factory in Taiwan, and the family had a modest amount of capital.

In the early 1990s, Wei Yingzhou’s third younger brother, the fourth son of the Wei family, was out on business when he soaked a packet of instant noodles on a train. The aroma at once drew the attention of the other passengers, who all began asking where he had bought them.

In 1992, the Wei brothers went to Tianjin to prepare a factory, and by using a method in which employees bought shares as investment, they finally put together their first instant noodle production line.

Before Lu Kun was reborn, it was said that Master Kong Holdings was no longer content with food and beverages alone and had begun entering the mobile phone and computer industries.

Though Lu Kun had never seen it himself, he rather hoped they might someday make a braised-beef-flavored mobile phone.

He was intensely envious of this industry.

The food and beverage business was a cavern of gold.

Master Kong alone, at its peak, had once reached a market value of one hundred and twenty billion Hong Kong dollars. Even after later being battered by the takeaway industry, it still remained a behemoth.

And there was also that irresistibly captivating Old Godmother. If it ever went public, it might well crush even a rising tech giant like Xiaomi Group.

Old Godmother aside for the moment; it was not easily replicable.

But Uni-President and Master Kong, those two stodgy corporations, though they had not yet advanced into the mainland, had already become thorns in Lu Kun’s flesh.

At the very least, once he got back, he would immediately preemptively register the trademark for Master Kong’s Braised Beef Noodles sub-brand. Even if he only used it later for hype and name recognition, it would still be worthwhile.

And if he wanted to be even more underhanded, he could also register in advance the trademarks that Uni-President had not yet filed on the mainland: Iced Black Tea, Tea King, Clever Noodle House, Fresh Orange Delight, Come One Bucket, Good Texture, Little Raccoon, and the like.

One may walk a thousand roads in dreams, yet awaken still in one’s own bed.

Steadying himself, Lu Kun decided that for now he should first spread the Huakun system completely across the field.

Only if the Huakun system could achieve a substantive monopoly within a single province would his later plans have a place firm enough to stand upon.

Angui was poor, certainly, but that did not mean it lacked untapped potential.

Had not so many past power bases first been built in old, remote, poor, and underdeveloped regions before they went on to contend for the realm?

Lu Kun now had nearly fifteen million Hong Kong dollars in capital in hand, and many things could finally be done without restraint.

An investment on that scale, nearly fifteen million Hong Kong dollars, would draw serious attention even from the highest levels of Angui Province.

It was no small political achievement, enough for every senior official in Angui to show their face before the leaders above.

An investment of fifteen million Hong Kong dollars, even if it landed in Shenzhen, would still make the municipal government attach great importance to it, granting privileges and clearing the way at every turn.

In 1990, when Nanhai Oils and Grains Industrial Co., Ltd., with an investment exceeding one hundred million Hong Kong dollars, opened in Shenzhen, it was named by the State Economic and Trade Commission and the National Bureau of Statistics as one of the nation’s top ten foreign-invested enterprises.

That company ranked within the top one hundred among China’s five hundred largest industrial enterprises in 1990, a list that included state-owned firms, and stood among the leaders of the national food industry.

The mid-level officials who had brought it in were all promoted together.

Once a large amount of Hong Kong capital poured into the Huakun system and it received strong backing from the Angui provincial government, it would be stranger if Huakun did not soar.

In this era, prioritizing the introduction of foreign capital was political orthodoxy. If a company could not make money, the government was often even more anxious than the company itself, terrified that the great financial patron might run away.

Lu Kun had not yet returned to Angui, but because he had already sounded out Sun Bowen beforehand, the propaganda and public opinion work had already begun.

By now, the entire Fengyang municipal government knew that Huakun Chain Supermarket Group, the dazzling local enterprise that had recently stolen all the limelight in its jurisdiction, had won the favor of foreign capital and was about to become Angui’s first Sino-foreign joint venture.

Even the city’s third-ranking leader had personally inspected the Huakun system and inquired into the particulars.

Lately Sun Bowen had been smiling at everyone he met, no longer wearing that bitter, careworn look he had before.

How could he not be pleased? Once the amount of incoming Hong Kong capital was disclosed, even the provincial government dared not take it lightly.

It was said that the higher-ups were already in meetings, discussing what sort of preferential policies should be given to Huakun in order to keep this wealthy patron.

In the coastal regions, for an investment of this scale, a policy of three years tax-free and five years at half tax was merely the starting point; as for other hidden preferential measures, they were too numerous to count.

The top leadership of Angui Province had no authority to grant Huakun the policy of three years tax-free and five years at half tax. The state still did not permit inland regions to steal the thunder of the coastal provinces.

The provincial leadership understood this perfectly well and could only strive to win as much policy support as possible from above.

But that did not mean the Angui provincial government had no other means of offering more hidden advantages.

No one wanted to spend a lifetime as useless mud that could not be plastered to a wall, nor did anyone want forever to play the underling, carrying another man’s shoes.

Watching neighboring brother provinces develop with each passing day, any leader with even a little ambition could not help but feel a sourness in the heart.

If this matter could be accomplished, everyone would share the glory, and the immediate deadlock before Angui could be broken open at last.

Of the surging undercurrents within Angui Province, Lu Kun naturally felt nothing of it at the moment.

The baked flatbread had gone cold and hard, so with each small bite he took, he had to wash it down with a mouthful of soybean milk.

Seated by the window, Lu Kun let the sunlight stream through the train carriage and spill over him, warm and gentle, making him feel deeply at ease.