Chapter 101: Customer Complaints and Adhesive R&D Investment Plan
March 20th, clear skies.
When Yang Wendong arrived at the new factory, he was surprised to find Zhao Liming and Lin Haoyu already there.
"What's going on?" Yang asked, noticing seven or eight people gathered in the meeting room. It was unusual.
Present were Zhou Xianglong, Wei Zetao, and Hong Xuefei. At the center of the table was a glue trap board. The atmosphere was tense and strange.
Seeing the boss arrive, Wei Zetao stood up and said, "Mr. Yang, one of our batches of glue traps was sent to Indonesia by a trading partner. Originally, it was just a test to explore the market, but we've run into a problem.
Indonesia is on the equator and has high temperatures year-round. Recently, it's been especially hot. Our glue traps were stored in a warehouse there, but the heat inside the warehouse caused the adhesive to melt and run all over the boxes—ruining the shipment and dirtying their storage area.
The trading partner has filed a complaint about product quality and is asking for compensation."
"The glue melted?" Yang asked, frowning. He had thought about this possibility in the past, but since it had never happened before, it had slipped his mind. "Was there any temperature warning on our packaging?"
"No," Wei replied. "We only labeled the product with a one-year validity period. In truth, it could still work after several years—that's just a suggestion."
"Then we need to start listing temperature limitations on the packaging—at the very least, make it clear," Yang said with a nod.
"That can be done," Wei said. "But what about this situation?"
Yang thought for a moment. "We didn't provide clear instructions, so we bear some responsibility. Negotiate with them—if their demand is reasonable and they're not trying to extort us, we'll compensate."
One of the golden rules in business is taking responsibility—whether it's toward suppliers or clients. Fairness and accountability are the foundations of long-term cooperation. Only one-shot business deals avoid this principle.
Wei nodded. "Understood. I'll handle discussions with the trading company. It shouldn't cost much. But the bigger issue is: will this happen again? That's what we're most concerned about."
Yang thought aloud, "Last summer, our glue traps sold well in Hong Kong, Japan, and Europe. But Japan and Europe don't get too hot, and although Hong Kong is closer to the tropics, it's coastal and stays relatively mild.
If our glue was particularly sensitive to heat, it wouldn't have shown up then."
Lin Haoyu added, "Brother Dong, something like this actually happened once last year. We had some glue traps leaning against a wall to catch rats. When we picked them up a few days later, we found some glue had run onto the floor.
But at the time, we didn't think much of it. The affected area was small, so we just cleaned it up and moved on. Later, the others took over, and I forgot about it."
"Did anyone run tests?" Yang asked. "Do we have verification?"
Wei responded, "We did. After I got the complaint yesterday, I immediately ran a quick test—used a hairdryer on a glue trap. Sure enough, the glue softened and started to flow.
But hairdryers just produce uncontrolled hot air. We know high temperatures affect it, but we don't have data on how hot or how long it takes for the failure to occur."
"I see." Yang nodded, then asked, "Is there any kind of equipment on the market that can simulate this? A box that can control both high and low temperatures?"
In his past life, he had toured factories and seen high-low temperature testing chambers—equipment used to test how products perform under environmental extremes.
Although the technology now was far behind what he was used to, if refrigerators existed, then low-temperature tests were already possible. High heat would be even easier to simulate.
"There is," Wei replied. "In my previous job at a plastics factory, we used such testing chambers. But they're not made locally—you have to import them from Japan."
"What about Dongsheng? Can they build one?" Yang asked.
"They can't," Wei said. "They probably could build something similar, but there's no market for it. Most Hong Kong toy factories are still small workshops. Few bother testing their products properly.
This kind of test equipment isn't like our Post-it machines. Even we would only buy one or two units. Bigger factories probably aren't much different."
"Alright. Then import one from Japan," Yang said. "Once it arrives, we'll run detailed tests. Honestly, it's about time we started truly understanding our own products."
Back when the company was smaller, there were too many fires to put out. It was impossible to catch every potential issue—especially rare ones. Many problems don't even appear until they happen in real life.
Now that the factory had grown, formal systems needed to be established. That included a dedicated testing and QA department.
"Got it. I'll contact the supplier right away," Wei said.
Yang picked up the glue trap on the table again and said, "The incident already happened. Our job now is to solve the problem. It's not the end of the world—every manufacturer runs into quality issues.
What matters is preventing a repeat—and doing our best to avoid other risks too."
Everyone looked at one another. For a moment, no one knew what to say.
Yang continued, "Alright. Let's leave it there for now. There's no perfect solution yet. Go back and think it over. Old Wei, stay behind. I want to talk about something else."
"Of course," Wei replied. The others stood and left.
Once the room was empty, Yang set the glue trap down and said, "This wasn't a big deal. But it reminds us that we really don't know our own products very well. That's the real danger."
Wei asked, "You're mainly worried about the glue and the paper?"
"The paper isn't a big deal. It just needs to be slightly better than standard A4," Yang said. "The key is the adhesive. Whether it's for Post-its or glue traps, the glue is the core.
Back when I started this business, I didn't have the resources to research glue properly. I just relied on trial and error and intuition to choose what worked.
That approach was fine then, but now we're selling globally. Environments vary—temperature, humidity, everything. We need to understand how our products perform under different conditions."
"Agreed," Wei said. "Right now, the only testing equipment we have is a German-imported adhesive tester. It gives decent readings—but only at room temperature. That's fine for standard quality control, but not for actual research."
"That's why I'm planning to set up a dedicated R&D testing department," Yang said.
In fact, months ago—before hiring Wei and the rest—Yang had discussed with Zhao Liming the need to test glue trap performance.
At the time, they weren't even thinking about heat. The main question was: what's the optimal amount of glue to use? The balance between cost and effectiveness.
Glue was their biggest raw material expense, so they had invested in a high-end tester from Germany, spending several thousand Hong Kong dollars.
Now that a product quality issue had finally surfaced—albeit a relatively minor one—it sounded the alarm. Running a business meant taking quality seriously. And quality isn't about talk—it requires investment: in people, in equipment, and in systems.
Wei Zetao nodded. "Setting up a dedicated lab is a good idea. Actually, I've been thinking about whether we should switch adhesives altogether. We might find something cheaper and better performing.
But until recently, we were focused on scaling up production and solving funding problems. In that context, it made more sense to prioritize stability."
Yang Wendong smiled. "Exactly. Before, we had bigger fires to put out. Now, even though we still need to expand, everything is generally going according to plan. For the time being, funding and personnel aren't critical issues.
So now I want to understand our products in detail. Especially glue.
Glue traps already have thin profit margins and use up a lot of adhesive. This matters a lot."
Compared to glue traps, Post-its were much more valuable and used far less adhesive. Yang had chosen to use high-grade, medical-grade adhesive for them—it was expensive, but ensured there were no problems.
But glue traps were highly sensitive to cost. Although Yang didn't expect to get rich off them, he did want them to help him build employment and social influence. Lower costs meant higher profits, and higher profits meant he could support more workers and expand to more markets.
Everything was a virtuous cycle. Profit was the foundation. At the very least, the business couldn't operate at a loss.
Wei nodded. "Got it. I'll ask the headhunter to look into whether we can find someone in Hong Kong with a background in chemical research. But I'm not optimistic. Hong Kong doesn't have much of a chemical industry—barely any overlap with what we need."
Yang thought for a moment, then asked, "Old Wei, what do you think about making glue ourselves? Could we do it here in Hong Kong?"
"Making glue?" Wei frowned. "Mr. Yang, I did some research earlier. Glue can be made using simple, traditional methods, but that only works for light, low-demand applications.
To do it right—standardized production, consistent performance—you need modern industrial methods. That puts us squarely in the chemical manufacturing industry."
Yang nodded. "I figured it would be classified as chemical manufacturing. So if we built a glue factory in Hong Kong, what would be the major issues? Environmental regulations?"
"Environmental protection wouldn't be the biggest obstacle," Wei explained. "As long as we don't build it in densely populated areas, it should be fine.
There are already small-scale metal smelters and ship repair yards all over Hong Kong, and their pollution isn't much better than what a small foreign chemical plant would produce.
Unless we're planning a massive facility, that's manageable.
The real issue is talent. Even if I wanted to hire someone just to run quality control, it'd take time. Hong Kong has no chemical industry, and without skilled people, it's just not feasible."
"Talent really is a problem," Yang agreed. Even in the 21st century, the U.S. Navy suffered due to a lack of skilled technicians. There was no solution. It just showed how critical human resources were to industrial chains—and even national defense.
Wei added, "If Mr. Yang is willing to spend big, there is a way. We could poach professionals from Japan or the U.S.—but that would be expensive.
Also, glue requires multiple raw chemical inputs, many of which we'd have to import. Right now, we only import finished glue. But producing it ourselves would mean sourcing multiple raw materials—solvents, catalysts, etc.—and importing them as well."
"Yeah." Yang knew that too. Without raw materials, a supply chain, or the right people, even having the money didn't guarantee success.
"Unless…" Wei paused. "Unless our demand is massive. If we reach a large enough scale, it might make sense—then the investment in talent, equipment, and raw material imports becomes viable.
But right now, we're not there yet. In the future, maybe."
"Absolutely. The Post-it market is huge," Yang said with a smile.
Wei nodded, then added, "There's another route. 3M is a global adhesive giant. They already own chemical plants. From what I know, U.S. industrial costs are rising, and even low-end sectors are under pressure from Japanese competition.
If 3M decides to build a plant in Hong Kong—for glue or tape—it would establish the entire industrial chain. Then we could follow up with our own small factory, dedicated to making glue for traps."
"Now that's a good idea," Yang chuckled. "But thinking 3M would set up a whole chemical industry in Hong Kong just so we can make glue is… a bit optimistic."
"Haha, it's just a thought," Wei grinned. "Realistically, it's unlikely. Without the supply chain and labor force, we probably can't do it here.
If we really wanted to, Japan might be a better place to set up. But that's complicated, and we're better off just buying ready-made glue for now.
Unless our demand explodes in the future, it's not worth the hassle."
"Right. Let's stick to buying for now," Yang agreed.
Manufacturing was never about doing everything yourself. Important components should be controlled, sure—but only when the timing was right. For now, it wasn't.
When the business grew bigger and cash was more abundant, they could revisit the idea.
Wei said, "Even if we can't make it ourselves, we can still manage cost through multi-supplier sourcing."
"Mm," Yang nodded. In his past life, China lacked oil and gas reserves and had to import from multiple countries. Diversifying supply sources was a valid strategy.
He continued, "We might not be able to produce glue for now, but we do need to start researching.
Our future testing department shouldn't just verify current products. It should also evaluate glues available on the market—see which one suits us best.
We don't need many people for that. And if it comes to it, we'll just poach someone from a Japanese chemical firm. Plenty of Taiwanese students study in Japan—surely we can find someone from that background.
Just a few hires would be enough for basic research."
They might not be able to manufacture glue, but that didn't mean they couldn't build foundational R&D capabilities.
They didn't need to invent new formulas. All they had to do was identify the best glues on the market for their own needs.
Step by step, they'd build from there. When the time was right, they could scale up and launch full-blown R&D or set up a factory elsewhere—if not in Hong Kong, then maybe in Taiwan, which in a few years would be actively seeking industrial investment.
Everything depended on how the future unfolded.
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