Chapter 431: Wealth Summary of 1964
Previously, Yang Wendong had already instructed Changxing Culture to increase its investment in color printing equipment, but even that still wasn't enough. Fortunately, Japanese manufacturers at this time were fiercely competitive. As long as an order was placed, the equipment could be delivered in just over a month.
Zhang Zhiyuan nodded. "Understood, Mr. Yang. I'll have the purchasing department place the order immediately."
"Alright." Yang Wendong continued, "Since we've made a strong debut, we need to speed up the storyline development. As long as Doraemon continues serialization, our comic weekly sales will keep growing and eventually stabilize at a high level.
And once the story has progressed enough, we'll need to produce an animated series. Only animation can spread rapidly."
Manga spreads too slowly—it depends on distribution channels, requires readers to spend money, and needs them to actively choose to read. It's cumbersome.
In contrast, animated series broadcast on TV are easily disseminated. Watching video is a passive experience, and therefore more comfortable. That's also why, in Yang Wendong's past life, platforms like Douyin (TikTok) overwhelmed all other forms of media—people preferred being fed entertainment over seeking it out.
"Understood. I'll make sure our animation team is ready," Wu Hailin responded.
"Alright then." Yang Wendong nodded. "From here on, whether Doraemon becomes a phenomenon across Asia depends on your team.
This is different from our previous comics based on Chinese mythology—those were designed for Chinese readers. But Doraemon, I want it to capture the entire Asian market."
The benefit of adapting mythology was that the stories and characters were familiar to the Chinese diaspora. But the drawback was that non-Chinese audiences often didn't understand them at all.
Doraemon, however, was original content. The settings and rules were simple, making it universally accessible.
In the original timeline, many of Japan's top-tier animated IPs generated billions of dollars in revenue over decades. With a single hit, the monetization possibilities were endless.
Compared to films or dramas, animation faced fewer cultural barriers. Doraemon was no exception. In his past life, countless children in mainland China loved Doraemon, Ultraman, and similar series.
Now that the Doraemon manga had launched, kids were already talking about it at school. For students, its popularity was unmatched. After all, the protagonist was a Hong Kong kid—relatable, familiar, and easy to immerse in.
On January 12, Yang Wendong arrived at Changxing Industrial Park in Kwun Tong. Wei Zetao had apparently been waiting for some time.
After getting out of the car, Yang Wendong said, "Old Wei, you don't need to wait for me at the gate. That last traffic jam at the pier was brutal—I nearly went crazy from boredom."
No matter how rich you were, whether you drove a Rolls-Royce or a Bentley, traffic jams leveled everything out. You were no better off than someone in a Toyota or a Volkswagen.
"It wasn't long, don't worry," Wei Zetao said with a laugh. "I heard the government has finalized plans for the undersea tunnel. Once it's built, travel between Hong Kong Island and Kowloon will be much easier."
"Let's hope so." Yang Wendong nodded.
Back in the early 1960s, when Governor Robert Black was still in office, this tunnel plan had been proposed. But disagreements between the colonial government and Hong Kong's elite had stalled the project. Some wanted a tunnel, others preferred a bridge, and the debate dragged on for years. Only when Governor David Trench took over did serious discussions resume, and a decision was finally made.
Yang Wendong hadn't gotten involved in that process, but he knew from his past life that an economic crisis would soon derail the whole plan. Things got so bad that at one point, the Governor even considered the possibility of Britain withdrawing from Hong Kong. Under such conditions, how could infrastructure projects like a tunnel or container terminals continue?
It wasn't until 1968, when the economy recovered, that planning resumed. In the early 1970s, the tunnel was finally built, accelerating Hong Kong's development.
The two of them walked through the factory. Despite the approach of the Chinese New Year, the facility was buzzing with activity. Along the way, Yang Wendong saw over a dozen trucks loading and unloading goods. The place was alive with motion.
"All these storage boxes are for export?" he asked, eyeing the plastic containers packed inside large wooden crates.
"Yes," Wei Zetao replied. "Storage boxes are a low-frequency purchase. Once a household buys a set, they won't replace them for ten years unless they break. We saturated the Hong Kong market months ago. Now, we're mainly targeting the U.S., Europe, and Japan. Southeast Asia isn't great for this product—wood is too cheap there."
"Right, plastic goods are easier to push in wealthier markets." Yang Wendong agreed.
Mass-produced plastic items were cheap but required significant upfront investment. In this pre-container era, shipping costs were also high. In countries with abundant wood, plastic boxes often weren't competitive—in some cases, even metal containers were more viable.
Storage boxes essentially replaced traditional wooden crates. They only made sense in regions like Europe and the U.S., where wood was expensive and carpentry labor even more so. In Southeast Asia, both wood and skilled labor were cheap.
Wei Zetao continued, "They're really popular in Western cities. I've already repurposed seven workshops for production, and over ten suppliers are working with us."
"Good. Keep pushing. This market has huge potential." Yang Wendong smiled. "The West is different from Hong Kong. When something gets old, they just throw it out. Even the electric fans from Rongyao Electronics sold well last year because of this mentality."
Westerners were notoriously wasteful. In his past life, Yang Wendong had seen people leave their air conditioners running while out of the house, just so it would be cool when they got back. The amount of food wasted in the U.S. every year could feed an entire African nation.
"That works in our favor. If they were as frugal as we are, who'd buy our stuff?" Wei Zetao laughed. "We can't change them, so we might as well take advantage."
"Exactly." Yang Wendong nodded, then asked, "How are the other product lines doing?"
"Better than last year across the board," Wei Zetao said. "Our distribution network is expanding steadily. And with our cost-control advantage, we've always offered strong value for money. Our market share is stable and still growing.
All the reports are upstairs. We can review them together in a bit."
Value for money was a term Yang Wendong had drilled into his manufacturing teams. At its core, a product was about cost-efficiency. Price control wasn't just business strategy—it was a powerful skill. If two products had the same quality, the one with even 3% lower cost had a massive edge.
That edge compounded in large-scale manufacturing. A slight advantage in unit cost could mean the difference between profit and loss when scaled to millions of units.
And that was where Changxing's strength lay—precision in production, ruthlessness in cost control, and the ability to scale fast when an opportunity appeared.
Yang Wendong, still thinking about Doraemon's stunning debut and the strength of his manufacturing empire, smiled to himself. A new year had arrived. The pieces were falling into place.
As soon as prices dropped a little, the market share would grow. With greater market share, manufacturers' costs would decrease, further improving cost-performance ratios. That, in turn, would bring in even more market share. In such a virtuous cycle, market expansion would lead to technology upgrades, quality improvements, and long-term stability.
"Alright, let's go take a look later," Yang Wendong said with a smile.
Soon, the two arrived at the chairman's office in the administrative building. The assistant brought them tea, and Wei Zetao pulled out a folder. "Mr. Yang, these are the business figures for Changxing Industries last year, including performance from the four major divisions and overall totals."
Yang Wendong accepted the folder and glanced at the bottom line first. Smiling slightly, he said, "So Changxing Industries' net profit exceeded 60 million HKD last year? That's quite an improvement over the previous year."
Wei Zetao nodded. "Yes, last year was 55 million. This year, it's 61 million—a growth of about 12%. The increase was mainly due to expanded distribution channels and slight price adjustments on some products.
Originally, the net profit might've been higher, since many of the infrastructure-related loans were mostly repaid. But we spent nearly 10 million on advertising in Europe and America, significantly more than the year before."
"That's fine. Advertising is a long-term investment. The more we invest now, the greater the returns in the future," Yang Wendong said, unconcerned. "We'll need to keep pushing in that area. The day our brand becomes truly recognized and trusted is the day our company becomes unshakable."
Even for companies like Changxing Industries, whose products weren't particularly technologically advanced, advertising was essential. Marketing was a critical growth engine for modern businesses—often more important than the tech itself.
"Understood," Wei Zetao replied. Then he continued, "Division One—Post-it Notes—sold 1.83 billion units last year. Our main market is still Europe and the U.S. That's a 10.9% year-on-year increase. Revenue reached 163 million HKD, up 4.5% compared to the previous year. We had one price reduction to stay competitive.
As for pest control products like glue traps and flypapers, they brought in 51 million HKD—up 21% compared to the previous year."
"I remember you telling me about the price cut on Post-its," Yang Wendong said. "From the market feedback, it seems like we're close to market saturation, right?"
"Yes," Wei Zetao replied. "We've advertised heavily. Those who need Post-its are now fully aware they exist. But a lot of businesses still don't buy them. Post-its are convenient, but not a true necessity."
"In that case, we need to start cultivating user habits," Yang Wendong said. "Coca-Cola isn't everyone's favorite drink either, but with enough advertising and complementary promotions, they've still gained millions of loyal consumers."
Even in the mobile internet era, getting users to stick around after a growth plateau was tough. Paid software? Even harder.
Real-world products were the same. No matter how good a product was, growth would eventually stall. But there was always untapped market potential.
"So you're suggesting we try free promotions again?" Wei Zetao asked. He remembered that Post-its were initially promoted through free samples before proper sales channels were established.
"Free is one option. We could also collaborate with other office supply brands. For example, buy a notebook and get a pack of Post-its free," Yang Wendong suggested. "No one turns down free stuff. People who originally wouldn't pay for Post-its might try them, and a portion will likely become loyal users."
"Got it. I'll reach out to European and American office supply brands to test that approach this year," Wei Zetao responded.
"How's the pest control division doing, staff-wise?" Yang Wendong asked.
He didn't particularly care how much money glue traps made. The technology was simple, and competition was everywhere. Though there were patents, those didn't mean much in practice. The real reason for sticking with the glue trap business was employment—it was entirely handmade.
"About 3,000 employees in total," Wei Zetao replied. "Most of the factories are in remote parts of Kowloon. Each factory has about 200 to 300 workers. There are around a dozen of them, all small-scale operations."
"Good. Let's keep it that way," Yang Wendong said.
Wei Zetao added, "I've noticed something interesting lately—demand for glue traps in Southeast Asia is rising quickly. I think it's because those countries are undergoing economic development. Rural folks are moving into the cities.
But infrastructure is still poor, housing is chaotic—very much like Hong Kong in the 1940s and 1950s. Rats are everywhere, and that creates a solid market for our products."
"You're thinking of targeting Southeast Asia more aggressively?" Yang Wendong asked. "But many countries there don't have intellectual property laws. Locals can copy the design and produce cheaply. Can you compete on cost?"
"We won't compete on cost. We'll compete on quality," Wei Zetao said. "Small workshops can't match our quality. As long as we find the right partners in Southeast Asia, we have a real shot."
"Alright, it's up to you. The more employment we can support, the better," Yang Wendong said. "If shipping costs get too high, consider investing in local production in Singapore. It's much more convenient there."
Though Changxing Shipping existed, it primarily handled large bulk shipments. Smaller, less frequent cargo still had to go through general freight lines. That limited the impact of their in-house shipping unless one day they expanded into global logistics.
"Understood," Wei Zetao replied. "Division One also has glue and paper product lines. Two years ago, these weren't very visible because most of the output went to internal use.
But last year, glue exports exceeded 5 million HKD, and paper products hit 8 million."
"Glue's main client is 3M, right?" Yang Wendong asked.
"Yes. 3M is still our largest glue client, but exports are growing," Wei Zetao confirmed. "Last year, glue exports reached 1.7 million HKD.
As for our paper mill in Taiwan, it mostly produces facial tissues, toilet paper, and A4 copy paper. Facial tissues are our top seller. They're even considering expanding production."
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