Reborn in Tokyo: From Heiress to Global Tycoon

Chapter 23 The Cold Wind of Nagoya

The snow in Nagoya has stopped.

The morning sun reflected off the thick snow, so bright it was blinding. The factory chimneys were no longer belching smoke; the once-roaring behemoth seemed to have been drained of its lifeblood in last night's cleansing, now lying paralyzed on the white wasteland.

The air in the conference room on the second floor was dry and stuffy.

Around the long conference table, seven or eight young people sat sparsely. They wore ill-fitting old suits, their ties were tied crookedly, and their hands were awkwardly placed on their knees. Occasionally, someone's gaze would fall on Shuichi Saionji, who sat in the head seat, and then quickly look away as if they had been electrocuted.

The scene that happened on the playground yesterday is still etched in their minds like a brand.

Those old workers who happily went home with fifteen months' wages, and the former factory director Onodera, whose back was hunched and who was thrown into the snow.

Shuichi held a cup of hot tea in his hand, his gaze slowly sweeping over the group of survivors.

"Why are you all so nervous?"

Xiuyi put down his teacup, the porcelain cup hitting the table with a soft "clang".

The shoulders of the people present suddenly hunched.

"Don't be nervous," Shuichi said calmly. "Since you chose to stay and didn't collect the severance pay, it means you still have expectations for Saionji Textile, or rather... you have confidence in your skills."

He pulled one out of the stack of personnel files and threw it in the center of the table.

Hiroshi Takahashi.

A man wearing black-rimmed glasses and with messy hair suddenly stood up. He looked to be in his early thirties, with three different colored ballpoint pens tucked into his shirt pocket—a typical tech geek outfit.

"Yes, President!" Takahashi's voice was slightly trembling with nervousness.

"I've seen your resume. You have a master's degree in textile engineering from MIT, and after returning to China, you worked in the technical department for five years. Last year, you proposed a plan for 'flexible production line transformation,' which was rejected by Plant Manager Onodera?"

Takahashi paused for a moment, his face flushing red: "Yes... that plan was approved as 'impractical'."

"Why is it unrealistic?"

"Because...because we need to import CNC equipment from Germany, and the cost is too high. And..." Takahashi gritted his teeth, "And if we install the new equipment, those experienced workers will be useless. Factory manager Onodera said that this is revolutionizing everyone's lives."

Shuichi nodded thoughtfully.

"Now, those skilled workers have already taken their money and gone home for the Chinese New Year."

Shuichi leaned forward, crossed his hands on the table, and stared into Takahashi's eyes.

"If I put you in charge of the factory now, could you keep this factory alive?"

The meeting room fell silent instantly; you could even hear the sound of water flowing through the heating pipes.

Takahashi's eyes widened, as if he couldn't believe his ears. The factory manager? Him? A marginal figure sitting on the sidelines in the technical department?

"I..." Takahashi swallowed hard, his brain racing.

This is an opportunity. A once-in-a-lifetime chance.

He took a deep breath, walked to the writing board, and picked up a marker.

"President, since you asked, I'll be frank."

Takahashi drew a descending curve on the whiteboard.

"The current exchange rate is 190. At this rate, it may break 160 next year. Under this exchange rate, it's a dead end for us to produce any low-value-added garments domestically. No matter how much we try to cut costs, Japan's labor and electricity costs are what they are."

He drew a huge cross below the curve.

"Therefore, my suggestion is to abandon mass production."

"We want to transform into a 'high-precision' industry. Utilizing our existing patented technologies, we will specialize in producing high-strength industrial filter cloth, medical artificial blood vessel substrates, and aircraft seat fabrics. These products have high technological barriers, are less affected by exchange rates, and have profit margins ten times that of shirts!"

Takahashi became more and more excited as he spoke, tapping his pen on the whiteboard repeatedly.

"Give me 200 million yen in R&D funding, and I'm confident I can produce a prototype within a year! Then we'll no longer be a textile factory, but a materials technology company!"

The surrounding technicians nodded in agreement, their eyes gleaming with excitement. This was the romance of engineers, a grand narrative of conquering the market with technology.

Shuichi listened quietly.

To be fair, this is a very standard, textbook-style transformation plan. Many Japanese companies did the same thing during this appreciation crisis—climbing up the value chain.

but.

That's too slow. And the risk is too high.

What the Saionji family needs now is to quickly recover funds to seize the high ground in real estate and finance, rather than investing precious cash flow into a bottomless pit called "research and development" and gambling on an uncertain future.

Shuichi didn't say anything, but turned his head to look at Satsuki sitting in the corner.

Satsuki was wearing a white wool sweater today and was lying on the table, doodling on a piece of white paper with colored pencils, seemingly uninterested in the adults' conversation.

"Satsuki," Shuichi asked softly, "what do you think of Uncle Takahashi's idea?"

All eyes were on the little girl. They had long heard that this young lady was deeply favored by the head of the family, but wasn't it too frivolous to ask a child for their opinion at this serious business meeting?

Satsuki put down her pen.

She blew the eraser shavings off the paper, then picked up the drawing and held it up.

It was a simple line drawing.

The material depicted is neither high-tech filter cloth nor complex aerospace materials.

It was a T-shirt.

A plain white, round-neck T-shirt without any patterns or decorations.

Next to the T-shirt, there was also a pair of jeans and a pair of canvas shoes.

"Uncle Takahashi's words are so profound," Satsuki blinked innocently. "But, if the factory becomes a place that makes 'materials,' what will we wear?"

Takahashi paused for a moment, then patiently explained, "Miss, you can buy clothes from other factories. We make higher-end items."

"But clothes made in other factories are so expensive."

Satsuki pointed to the wool sweater she was wearing.

"This dress costs 20,000 yen in Ginza. My classmate Suzuki's dad's factory is about to go bankrupt, and her mom isn't buying her any new clothes this year."

She jumped off the chair, took the drawing, and walked up to Takahashi.

"Uncle Takahashi, you studied in the United States, right?"

Yes, yes.

"When you were in the US, what did those college students usually wear?"

Takahashi recalled for a moment: "Uh... just T-shirts, jeans, and hoodies. Very casual."

"Yes!" Satsuki nodded vigorously. "I saw it on TV too. Americans don't seem to like wearing those complicated clothes. They like this kind of..."

She pointed to the white T-shirt in the painting.

"Clothes that are simple, comfortable, and you won't feel bad if you throw them away when they're damaged."

"if……"

Satsuki lowered her voice slightly, with a hint of seduction.

"If we could make a garment that is of very high quality and will not deform no matter how many times it is washed, but costs only one-tenth of what it costs in Ginza... for example, a T-shirt for only 500 yen."

"500 yen?!"

Takahashi exclaimed in surprise, "Impossible! The cost of cotton yarn alone is more than that! Add in labor, utilities, transportation... it's simply impossible to make in Japan! Unless..."

"Unless what?" Shuichi pressed.

"Unless it's in a place where labor is practically free," Takahashi said instinctively, "like Southeast Asia, or... China."

"Then let's go to China."

Satsuki blurted it out.

These five words, like a bolt of lightning, cleaved the frozen air in the conference room.

Takahashi was stunned. Shuichi also narrowed his eyes.

"Go to China?" Takahashi stammered. "But... it's only been open to the public for a few years, the infrastructure is terrible, and there are no skilled workers..."

"If there are no skilled workers, we can teach them."

Satsuki slammed the painting on the table, her tone suddenly becoming less like a child and more like that of a tyrannical ruler.

"Uncle Takahashi, you're a technical expert. Teaching someone to operate a sewing machine should be simpler than developing artificial blood vessels, right?"

She pointed to the white T-shirt.

"We don't need them to make complicated suits, nor do we need them to make exquisite kimonos. We'll just let them make this."

"As long as you cut the fabric and sew it together, one stitch on the left, one stitch on the right, even a monkey could learn it in three months of training."

"Because the design is simple, it can be mass-produced. Because of the large scale, the cost can be kept to a minimum."

Satsuki raised her head and looked at Shuichi.

"Father, I read a sentence in a book: 'Quantity has a quality all its own.'"

"Since the Japanese can't afford expensive clothes, we'll sell them the cheapest ones. Not only to the Japanese, but also to Americans, and to the whole world."

"This is not 'low-end,' but 'basic.'"

Shuichi looked at his daughter.

He remembered the "S-Style" plan that Satsuki had mentioned in the tea room that day.

At the time, he thought it was a distant idea, but now, when that idea has been materialized into a 500 yen T-shirt, he feels the terrifying power it contains.

"Takahashi-kun." Shuichi turned to look at Takahashi Hiroshi, who was still in shock. "What do you think technology is for?"

Takahashi was stunned: "To...to create a better product?"

"No."

Shuichi shook his head.

"Technology is for making money."

He stood up, walked to the window, and looked out at the desolate factory area.

"The transformation plan you just mentioned is indeed very tempting. But the Saionji family can't wait a year (although they could). We need cash, a lot of fast-moving cash."

"Relay my orders."

"First, preserve the Nishijin weaving production line in the third workshop as the face of the family business. None of the master craftsmen in this area are to be touched."

"Secondly, except for the third workshop, all the looms, dyeing machines, sewing machines... should be sold off as a package. Contact second-hand equipment dealers, or sell them directly as scrap metal. I want to see the factory empty within a month."

"third……"

Shuichi walked up to Takahashi and patted him on the shoulder.

"Hiroshi Takahashi, I'm appointing you as the new factory manager of Saionji Textile. But I don't need you to do research and development in the lab."

"I want you to assemble an inspection team. Bring blueprints, a translator, and all your knowledge of textiles."

"Go to China."

"Go to Shanghai, go to Guangdong, go anywhere there are people willing to work."

"I need you to find me a factory within three months that can produce these white T-shirts. The cost must be controlled within..."

Xiuyi held up three fingers.

"Within 200 yen."

Takahashi felt his throat go dry.

This is a crazy plan. To abandon a century-old manufacturing business and become a pure brand owner and trader. And to go to that distant and unfamiliar country.

But looking at Shuichi's unquestionable gaze, he glanced at the doodle on the table, drawn by a 12-year-old girl.

A strange sense of dread rose up my spine.

That was a premonition of witnessing history.

If he doesn't do it, he'll just be an ordinary engineer, and he might be laid off in a few years.

But if you do it...

"Yes, President!"

Takahashi bowed deeply, his voice echoing in the conference room.

"I'll get started right away! I can have a research plan ready within three days... no, tomorrow!"

Xiu nodded slightly.

"Go ahead. Don't worry about the funding. I'll have someone in Tokyo write you a special check."

The meeting has ended.

The young technicians filed out, their steps much lighter than when they arrived. Although the road ahead remained uncertain, at least they had seen a path.

Only Shuichi and Satsuki remained in the meeting room.

Shuichi walked to the table and picked up the piece of paper with a white T-shirt drawn on it.

"Satsuki," he looked at the childish handwriting, "do you really think people would wear something like this?"

On the eve of this bubble economy that worships brand names and values ​​individuality, these unremarkable clothes are practically synonymous with cheapness.

Satsuki slowly and methodically packed away her colored pencils.

"Father, do you know what 'fashion' means?"

"Popularity?"

"Fashion is just a passing fad. Today the east wind blows, everyone wears Armani; tomorrow the west wind blows, everyone wears Chanel."

Satsuki put the last red pencil into the pencil case with a soft "click".

"But the wind will eventually stop."

"When the wind stops and everyone feels cold, they will realize that only this simple cotton cloth can give them the most genuine warmth."

She slung her schoolbag over her shoulder and walked to the door.

"Moreover, it is precisely because it has nothing that it possesses everything."

"It's a blank sheet of paper. Whoever wears it, that's what it is."

Shuichi watched his daughter's retreating figure, then looked down at the painting.

He suddenly felt that this thin piece of paper was much heavier than the dozens of pages of technical improvement plan.

That is the ticket to the next era.

"Let's go, Father." Satsuki turned around at the door. "I want to go eat eel rice in Nagoya."

"well."

Shuichi carefully folded the painting and put it into his pocket.

Outside the window, sunlight finally pierced through the clouds.

The snow began to melt, gathering into tiny streams of water that dripped down the eaves.

Tick-tock. Tick-tock.

That was the sound of the old era melting away, and the prelude to the emergence of a new world.

The chimney of Saionji Textile Factory has been completely extinguished.

But on the other side of the sea, a seed called "S-Style" is preparing to take root and sprout in another vast land.