"Thank you so much, Guo Shao."
Upon hearing Guo Jun's assurance, Song Qiao's eyes lit up.
There had always been two main concerns for him: a tight cash flow and a lack of strong official backing.
The former was manageable; with his business acumen, earning enough money was only a matter of time. The latter, however, had repeatedly caused him trouble.
While Liu You and Pan Bei could offer significant assistance, their influence was relatively limited. If any major issues arose, they might struggle to resolve them.
Now, with Guo Jun as a friend, his most pressing problem seemed to be solved.
With this thought, Song Qiao excitedly stood up and raised his glass to toast Guo Jun.
At ten in the evening, the three of them concluded their dinner with pleasantries. Concerned that Song Qiao had consumed too much alcohol, Pan Bei even arranged for his driver to take Song Qiao home.
It wasn't until the following morning that Song Qiao awoke from his slumber, the effects of the previous night's drinking still lingering, causing a dull headache.
As soon as he opened his eyes, he received a call from Factory Director Wang Fugui. They discussed the acquisition once more.
Song Qiao stated that he needed to hold a meeting with the factory's key personnel to discuss the matter, and the acquisition was scheduled for a week later.
Although Wang Fugui was anxious, he had no choice but to patiently wait.
He was unaware that Song Qiao's delay wasn't due to further consideration, but rather his current lack of funds, requiring a week for his existing capital to be recouped.
A week later, the new packaging for the stinky tofu was officially launched. As soon as it left the factory, major department stores vied to purchase it. Some even offered to pay a premium to ensure priority supply.
Customers of Xiang Piaopiao also eagerly tried the new product, igniting another buying frenzy in the city.
In just one week, Song Qiao received over 300,000 yuan in deposits for the factory alone, and with revenue from stores and stalls, his profits were nearing 500,000 yuan.
This profit solidified Song Qiao's resolve. With capital and connections secured, it seemed only a command from the boss was needed for the processing plant to expand.
Regarding the phenomenon of major department stores bidding up prices for priority supply, Song Qiao repeatedly issued directives to stop it.
The pursuit of profit was inherent in merchants, but if principles were abandoned for the sake of profit, the company would never grow strong.
Seeing that the date agreed upon with Wang Fugui had arrived, Song Qiao proactively called him.
"Boss Wang, in half an hour, I will bring people over to finalize the acquisition matters."
Wang Fugui, who had felt a sense of despair, suddenly sat up from his chair upon hearing the news.
He excitedly replied, "No problem, I'll head to the factory immediately and await your arrival."
After giving a few more instructions, Song Qiao hung up the phone and then instructed Ah Wei to notify Li Lili and Lin Jing, preparing them to accompany him to the chemical plant.
Upon arriving at the processing plant, it took less than two hours for both parties to sign the acquisition contract. The chemical plant, which had followed Wang Fugui for most of his life, finally became Song Qiao's property.
As he signed his name, Wang Fugui's eyes inexplicably welled up with tears.
Despite his immense reluctance, the factory had reached a point where it had to be transferred. Otherwise, its collapse under his management was only a matter of time.
"Alas, it's a pity for many of the old employees who have been with me for most of their lives."
Wang Fugui sighed and stood up, preparing to inform the workers of their departure.
"Director Wang, please wait. I have one more matter."
Song Qiao, looking at Wang Fugui's dejected back, hesitated before speaking.
Wang Fugui paused, looking at Song Qiao with a confused expression.
"There's no need to disband the factory's employees. They can stay; I intend to rehire them."
Song Qiao smiled and said with a serious expression.
"What?"
Factory Director Wang exclaimed in surprise.
"Boss Song, you can actually keep them?"
"Of course. I've conducted thorough investigations. While your factory workers might not be a perfect fit for my processing plant, food processing doesn't entirely rely on specialized skills."
"I'll transfer some employees from the old factory to personally train them. I believe they'll learn quickly."
Song Qiao said with a smile, confident in his plan.
"Furthermore, I can rehire workers who were previously laid off."
"Their wages and benefits will remain the same as before."
Seeing Boss Wang's shocked expression, Song Qiao added.
"Boss Song, on behalf of my factory's more than nine hundred employees, I express my gratitude."
Wang Fugui stood frozen for a long moment before reacting, then bowed deeply to Song Qiao, his face filled with emotion.
He then hurried off to notify the employees to gather in the courtyard for an assembly.
Lately, the factory's production tasks had been dwindling, with many workers idly passing the time in the workshops.
Upon hearing the news of an employee assembly, their expressions changed.
It seemed the factory was truly failing, and they would all eventually face layoffs.
"Sigh, I heard our factory was acquired by a big boss."
A young man in work clothes, wearing glasses, whispered in the crowd.
"Acquired? To continue operating this chemical plant?"
A middle-aged man wearing a mask asked with confusion.
Others nearby responded dismissively:
"Why would anyone be so foolish? Our boss is an expert in chemicals and has been in this industry for over twenty years, yet his business is declining."
"Would a fool accept such a hot potato?"
At this, many began to murmur, discussing how the industry nationwide was in decline, and why would anyone join it now.
"No, I heard the boss is in food processing and plans to convert our factory into a food processing plant."
The young man, hearing their doubts, hurriedly explained.
"What does that have to do with us? We don't know anything about food processing, and they'll probably just fire us then."
A middle-aged woman in her forties or fifties said with a pout.
They were all veteran employees who had spent most of their lives in this factory, now only possessing the skill of chemical engineering.
Once laid off, they might not find such decent work again, potentially having to resort to manual labor on construction sites, or worse, lose their source of income entirely.
The young man opened his mouth, wanting to say more, but ultimately remained silent. He had merely hoped for a glimmer of possibility.
Now, that hope had been cruelly extinguished by everyone's cold reception.