Chapter 14: The Unexpected

After submitting the license renewal application, the health department clerk adjusted his glasses and cast a scrutinizing glance over the counter. “Changing the food category requires an on-site inspection. A specialist will visit your factory within three working days.”

Exiting the medical and health department building, Zhenhai Gao anxiously rubbed his hands together. “Brother Wen, how long is this going to take? The sooner we start production, the sooner we make money!”

Chen Bingwen smiled dismissively. “Ah Hai, the first lesson in doing business on Hong Kong Island is learning to deal with the government.”

Zhenhai Gao nodded vaguely, still clueless about how to handle such dealings.

“Since the permit will take two or three days, let’s prepare what we can. You go back and deliver the sweet soup. I’ll check on the food factory.”

When Chen Bingwen returned to the food factory, Qiang Zhong was adjusting equipment with two new workers.

Seeing Chen return, Qiang wiped sweat from his forehead. “Boss, all equipment is calibrated and ready for production.”

“No rush. The health department will inspect us in the next couple of days. We need to clean the factory thoroughly.”

Chen looked around and noticed some clutter in the corners. “Ah Qiang, clear out all these useless items. Ah Chang, buy some disinfectant and clean the floors and walls.”

Since the health department was coming for an on-site inspection, they couldn’t afford to fail due to hygiene issues.

“I’ve checked it out! The sweet soup stall in Lai Chi Kok is just a family workshop. The owner’s surname is Wong; he makes the sweet soup at home every day and sells it outside.”

At noon, after selling sweet soup, Zhenhai Gao rushed in eagerly to report to Chen Bingwen.

Chen gestured for him to sit and elaborate. “What’s the situation exactly?”

Zhenhai Gao gulped a large mouthful of herbal tea and wiped his mouth. “That Mr. Wong used to be a kitchen helper at a tea restaurant. Seeing how well we’re doing, he started making sweet soup himself. I chatted with him a bit—he said he makes at most two barrels a day and closes shop once sold out.”

“These individual vendors aren’t a big concern,” Chen nodded. “Their production capacity is limited and won’t affect the overall market. What we need to watch are those vendors backed by established sweet soup shops.”

Food is different from other goods; tastes vary widely. What you find delicious might be repulsive to others, things they wouldn’t even touch. In a previous life, the Southwest’s ‘fish mint’—a common herb—was considered ordinary fare, but in northern markets, it was barely sought after. Similarly, dipping pickles popular in the north are rare in the south.

Every region has its own culinary habits; every person has their own preferences.

With so many industrial zones in Kowloon, Chen Bingwen knew that relying solely on his own company’s capacity would never conquer the market.

These sweet soup stalls were not only a market supplement but also potential high-quality clients in his eyes.

Zhenhai Gao nodded half-understandingly and asked, “Brother Wen, what should we do next?”

Chen pulled out a notebook and flipped to a page with a map. “This is a distribution map of Kowloon’s industrial zones. I plan to divide it into twelve areas, each with a sweet soup sales point. We must try to capture the entire industrial sweet soup market in a short time.”

“So the key to expansion is to get the food production license quickly and ramp up sweet soup production.”

Chen lightly tapped the map and smiled. “Look, each of these twelve areas has thousands of workers. If we capture even 30% of each area’s market share, we could sell nearly 4,000 bowls of sweet soup daily.”

Zhenhai Gao gasped. “4,000 bowls? That’s a huge profit!”

“But first, we must solve three problems: production, distribution, and sales networks. That’s why I wanted more sweet soup stalls initially.”

Chen sat down on a factory bench with Zhenhai Gao. “Our goal isn’t to compete with these small vendors, but to turn them into partners.”

He opened the notebook, pointing to an illustration. “Look, what do these small vendors lack? Stable supply, unified branding, and sales channels. That’s exactly what we can provide.”

Zhenhai Gao’s eyes lit up. “You mean... have them sell our sweet soup?”

“Exactly!” Chen patted his shoulder. “We offer three supports: first, unified supply ensuring quality; second, standardized packaging and signage to enhance brand image; third, we handle distribution, they handle sales. Even if our prices aren’t as low as theirs, increased sales volume means profits won’t suffer.”

“Got it, Brother Wen. I’ll build good relations with the sweet soup vendors.”

Chen nodded approvingly. “These little vendors might seem insignificant now, but someday they could be our franchisees.”

“I understand,” Zhenhai Gao said seriously.

Three days later, as scheduled, the health department inspectors arrived.

Chen Bingwen, Zhenhai Gao, and Qiang Zhong waited at the factory early in the morning.

From a distance, a gray government vehicle marked “Health Department” slowly approached.

“Brother Wen, they’re here!” Zhenhai Gao whispered.

Chen adjusted his suit collar and said softly, “Remember what I said—say what needs to be said, but not a word more.”

Often, inspections find problems because people talk too much. To avoid complications, Chen repeatedly reminded everyone to keep quiet and avoid giving anyone ammunition.

The inspector was a middle-aged man in a crisp uniform, his hair slicked in a sharp side part. Wearing the health department badge on his chest and clutching a briefcase, he carried an air of arrogance. An assistant accompanied him.

“You must be Boss Chen,” the inspector said in Cantonese with a Chaozhou accent, scanning Chen’s figure. “I’m Senior Inspector Lin Guodong from the health department.”

Chen stepped forward to shake his hand. “Inspector Lin, welcome. We appreciate your guidance.”

Lin didn’t respond immediately; instead, he slowly took out an inspection checklist and said, “Show me your factory.”

Lin had Chen walk him through the entire production process and warehouse for a general overview.

Then the formal inspection began at the raw material storage.

Lin put on white gloves and stopped at the shelf holding white sugar. “Where’s the purchase receipt for this batch?”

Zhenhai Gao quickly handed over the documents.

Lin checked carefully, then suddenly pointed at a cardboard box in the corner. “Why is there rat droppings there?”

Chen followed his finger and indeed spotted some black pellets against the wall.

He was stunned.

They had cleaned meticulously for the inspection, double-checking everything before Lin’s arrival to ensure perfection.

Since then, the raw material warehouse had remained locked with no one entering—except for the recent tour with Lin.

Now, rat droppings suddenly appeared, which made no sense.

But now wasn’t the time to argue. First, they had to appease Lin.

Chen immediately explained, “Inspector Lin, we conduct daily rodent control. This might be...”

“‘Might be’ what?” Lin cut him off. “Article 38 of the health regulations clearly states: no signs of rodent activity are allowed in food processing areas. This alone will require you to rectify for at least half a month.”

Then he turned to his assistant. “Note that down.”

“Yes, sir!”

Starting with such a stern warning, Chen knew today’s inspection wouldn’t be easy.

Sure enough, Lin found fault at nearly every step: insufficient disinfection records, improper worker attire, slight water accumulation in drainage channels... After two hours, the checklist was filled with violations.

Back in his office, Lin leisurely sipped tea. “Boss Chen, your factory has many problems.”

Chen smiled apologetically. “Inspector Lin, this is our first time running a factory; we’re unfamiliar with many regulations. Could you please be lenient?”

Lin gave him a meaningful look. “Leniency depends on your attitude.”

The Independent Commission Against Corruption (ICAC) was founded in 1974, and even after the 1977 police corruption scandal, some gray areas persisted, though bribes were solicited more discreetly.

Chen knew that in 1978 Hong Kong, “tea money” was still an unspoken rule in some departments.

His thought now was: he didn’t fear Lin finding problems, only that Lin wouldn’t accept any.

As Lin finished speaking, Chen immediately took an envelope from the drawer and handed it over. “A small token for you, Inspector Lin, to buy your tea.”

Lin took the envelope, feeling its thickness beneath the table, his expression darkening instantly. “Boss Chen, are you trying to bribe me like a beggar?”

Chen’s smile froze.

Inside the envelope was 2,000 Hong Kong dollars.

In 1978 Hong Kong, an ordinary worker earned only seven or eight hundred dollars a month; 2,000 was the largest amount Chen could offer, taken from recent sweet soup profits, with an 80,000 loan still pending.

“Inspector Lin, we’re a small operation...”

“Cut the nonsense!”

Lin ignored Chen’s explanation, slammed the table, and said, “With your hygiene conditions, you’ll need at least three months of rectification!”

The office atmosphere instantly stiffened.

Facing Lin’s deliberate provocation, Zhenhai Gao clenched his fists until his knuckles whitened.

Chen took a deep breath and suddenly smiled. “Inspector Lin is right—we were careless.”

He signaled to Zhenhai Gao, “Ah Hai, bring our hygiene improvement plan for Inspector Lin’s review.”

After Zhenhai left, Chen lowered his voice. “Inspector Lin, how about this?

I’ll give you 2,000 now as a deposit, and when the permit is approved, I’ll pay another 3,000.”

To Chen, 5,000 Hong Kong dollars was just a few days’ profit, well worth the price. Once the food production license was secured, the money would be earned back quickly.

Lin sneered and waved his finger. “Five thousand? At least ten thousand! Otherwise, no deal!”

A cold light flashed in Chen’s eyes, but his face remained respectful. “Inspector Lin, ten thousand isn’t a small sum. Please allow me two days to arrange it.”

“Bring the money to the back door of the health department, Lu Yu Tea House, by 5 p.m. tomorrow,” Lin stood and straightened his uniform. “No extensions.”

After Lin and his assistant left, Zhenhai Gao stomped anxiously. “Brother Wen, ten thousand dollars! That’s extortion!”

Chen, unexpectedly calm, said, “Ah Hai, have Ah Qiang write a detailed account of today’s inspection, as detailed as possible. Make sure all workers present sign it.”

“Brother Wen, you mean...?”

“Remember how many corrupt cops the ICAC arrested during last year’s scandal?”

Chen sneered. “If he dares to ask for ten thousand, I’ll make sure he rots in jail! And we’ll also give ‘Chen’s Sweet Soup’ some free publicity before the Victoria Park Lunar New Year Fair.”

“Call the Hong Kong Commercial Daily and Sing Tao Daily with the scoop: tomorrow afternoon at Lu Yu Tea House, big news!”

The next day at Lu Yu Tea House, Chen arrived thirty minutes early.

He chose a window seat, ordered a pot of Longjing tea, and leisurely sipped while watching the bustling street outside.

Coming to this era, moments of peaceful tea tasting to savor 1970s Hong Kong Island charm were rare.

Lately, he had been busy from dawn to dusk managing the sweet soup business.

Raising the teacup, with fragrant steam rising, a tram passed slowly outside the window.

In 1978 Hong Kong, the city brimmed with vibrant energy.

At 4:50 p.m., Inspector Lin arrived punctually.

He had changed into civilian clothes, glanced cautiously around, then strode directly to Chen’s table.

“Did you bring the money?” Lin asked in a low voice.

Chen calmly set down his cup, took a thick envelope from his bag, and pushed it onto the table. “Inspector Lin, please inspect.”

Lin’s eyes gleamed with greed as he reached out—Chen’s hand pressed down on the envelope.

“Inspector Lin, when will my food factory get the production license?”

Lin’s face darkened. “Boss Chen, what do you mean?”

Chen lightly tapped the envelope, a faint smile playing on his lips. “I’m a man of integrity. I’ve brought the money, but you owe me a clear promise.”

Lin narrowed his eyes, glancing back and forth between the envelope and Chen. “The permit is negotiable.”

“Negotiable?” Chen chuckled softly. “Inspector Lin, without your promise, I can’t just hand over the money.”

Lin’s expression instantly turned grim. He lowered his voice threateningly. “Boss Chen, think carefully. Without my signature, you’ll never get that permit in your lifetime!”

“Very well. I hope Inspector Lin keeps his word and expedites my food production license.”

Chen reluctantly pushed the envelope forward.

As Lin reached to pocket it, Chen sighed and his gaze sharpened.

“Honestly, if you weren’t so greedy, I’d be happy to be friends. But alas...”

Before Lin could react, four plainclothes officers surrounded him. Their leader flashed his badge. “Lin Guodong, ICAC! You’re under investigation for bribery. Please come with us.”

“You!” Lin jumped up, face pale, and the envelope dropped with a thud. “Chen Bingwen, you dare to frame me?”

“Don’t be so serious! It’ll affect how the story looks in the papers!”

At Chen’s words, both Lin and the ICAC agents felt a bad premonition.

Sure enough, just as Chen finished speaking, a flurry of camera shutters clicked from the other side of the tea house.

Lin shuddered and instinctively raised his hand to cover his face, but it was too late.

Flashes froze his shameful expression in time.

“Boss Chen, what’s the meaning of this?” the ICAC investigation chief asked sternly.