Chapter 6 – Ruthless Competition
Yang Wendong didn't look worried. Instead, he smiled and said, "That fast, huh? Looks like someone out there has some business sense."
"You're not angry?" Su Yiyi asked curiously.
Yang Wendong shook his head. "What's there to be angry about? I can't stop others from copying me. If you saw someone making money doing something, wouldn't you want to try it too?"
From the moment he started making bamboo rat traps, he had known this would happen. If his traps actually made a little money, people were bound to imitate him sooner or later.
Even if no one in the shantytown copied him, some of his customers could do it—or others selling in the same market.
"I still don't think it's right, but yeah, you can't really stop it," Zhao Liming said, agreeing.
Yang Wendong continued, "Technically, if it were a new invention, you could apply for a patent to keep others from copying it. But that's not something we can think about right now."
He didn't even have enough money to keep eating properly—how could he afford a patent? And besides, this was a handmade item. Whether it could even qualify for a patent was questionable.
"What's a patent?" Zhao Liming asked.
"Don't worry about it for now," Yang Wendong replied. "If it ever becomes relevant, you'll understand."
If one day he did build a real business, a proper company, then applying for patents would be a must. Whether they were effective or not, it was still important to claim the moral high ground—at the very least, so no one could use patent law against him.
"Okay," Zhao Liming nodded. Over the past few days, he'd started to feel like his Brother Dong had become much deeper and more knowledgeable than before.
Su Yiyi asked, "So what should we do now?"
"Same as always," Yang Wendong said with a smile. "If you walk through a market or small shops, you'll see lots of people selling the same thing. Everyone's just doing business."
"Yeah, we're all selling rat traps," Zhao Liming added with a chuckle.
Yang Wendong nodded. "Besides, it's not easy to sell anything. Even if someone wants to copy our business, it's hard to get it right. Most people don't have the guts to actually do it."
Street vending requires a cheap supply chain—that's for people who are already familiar with business. For the average person, the biggest hurdle is just deciding to start.
Even taking that first step is hard. Most people don't dare gamble or change their current way of life.
"True," Zhao Liming said. "Even going to the market costs money, and you need to know how to talk to people. Honestly, if it weren't for you, Brother Dong, I wouldn't have dared to try it."
"Exactly. So we don't have much to worry about," Yang Wendong said with a shrug. "Maybe a few people will copy us, but most won't stick with it. And the ones who already run other businesses? Unless they've failed and are desperate, they won't switch either."
Su Yiyi thought for a moment and nodded. "Makes sense."
"But over time," she added, "someone will definitely get good at it too, right?"
"Absolutely," Yang Wendong agreed. "That's why we need to make as much money as we can now—while we still have the advantage."
Zhao Liming asked, "Brother Dong, there's one thing I've been wondering. What if there's only so many people willing to buy traps? What if we run out of customers?"
"Smart question!" Yang Wendong grinned. "Hong Kong has a huge market, but if we only sell in this one market, our customers are limited to people nearby. Eventually, we'll hit a ceiling.
So we'll need to find a way to sell in other areas too."
"How?" Su Yiyi asked.
"No idea," Yang Wendong admitted with a laugh. "For now, we'll just take it one day at a time."
The bamboo trap business might help him avoid starvation, but it wasn't going to make him rich.
Zhao Liming said, "Then I'll go make a few more this afternoon."
"Oh, by the way," he added, "Brother Yu is coming back soon. Should we ask him to join us?"
"Not yet. We're already making more traps than we can sell. If we bring him in, we'll have to pay him too—and it'll keep him from working other jobs. Let's wait until demand goes up," Yang Wendong replied.
Unlike decades later, where individuals could support themselves easily, in this era, people leaned on group ties and community survival. Families and villages stuck together out of necessity.
Even though the shack town wasn't tied to any one clan or family, the need for mutual support created small groups—loyal to each other out of survival.
Yang Wendong was part of such a group. Besides Zhao Liming, there was also Lin Haoyu. The three of them had always looked out for each other and their loved ones.
That said, they mostly lived their own lives day to day. Lin Haoyu and his family had taken temporary work at a nearby warehouse.
Zhao Liming nodded. "Makes sense."
"Let's go. Time to haul some more bamboo," Yang Wendong said.
Running a street stall did make more money than most jobs, but even that barely provided enough for basic needs.
For now, without any better options, he had to take things one step at a time.
…
The next day, Yang Wendong and Zhao Liming returned to the market and began their usual routine.
Around noon, the local gang boy Biu walked up and patted Wendong on the shoulder. "Kid, you're in luck. The big boss gave the green light—he wants to order 200 of those rat traps and try them out."
"Great! Thank you, Brother Biu! I'll have them ready soon," Yang Wendong said excitedly.
"Here's 10 dollars up front. Call it a deposit," Biu added, handing over a stack of bills. "Bring the rest over once you've got the traps. But don't forget—we've got a deal. Seventy-thirty."
"Of course. I'll deliver everything in two days," Yang Wendong promised, accepting the money. It was the largest amount of cash he'd touched in his entire life.
"Good. I'll see you then," Biu said, walking off with one of his lackeys.
Once they were gone, Zhao Liming whispered, "I can't believe they actually paid!"
"Of course they did. They're not stupid," Yang Wendong replied. "That market brings in a lot of cash from daily stall fees. If they start robbing vendors outright, they'll kill their own profits."
"True. The fixed vendors pay a lot more than we do. That market must make a fortune every day," Zhao Liming said with awe.
"Don't get distracted. Let's head back—we've got traps to make," Yang Wendong said. He wasn't about to waste time on speculation.
Now that they had a big order, they needed to shift focus to production.
"Got it," Zhao Liming agreed.
The two of them returned home and threw themselves into making as many traps as possible.
…
On the third day, the pair carried their delivery to the market using bamboo shoulder poles, each with two big baskets strapped front and back.
As they reached the entrance, they saw Biu.
But something was off—Biu's face was twisted in a snarl as he punched and kicked a skinny middle-aged man.
The man curled on the ground, crying out in pain. Blood spattered the area. Beside him, a seven- or eight-year-old girl sobbed uncontrollably.
"Stop hitting my dad!"
"You bastard! If you don't pay up, I'll sell your daughter!" Biu shouted, spitting on the man and winding up to kick him again.
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