Chapter 158: The Rolling Suitcase Project and Employee Prosperity
After leaving the finance department, Yang Wendong headed to the third floor, where the R&D department was located. This entire floor was dedicated to research and development, and right now, the floor was scattered with various prototypes of spin mop buckets and mops, along with an array of adhesive hooks displayed on the walls.
"Mr. Yang, Mr. Wei," greeted Hong Xuefei as he quickly jogged over upon spotting them. He then glanced around at the mess and scratched his head in slight embarrassment. "Apologies, the place is a bit messy. We've been working on new designs for the spin mop. The samples are all over the place."
"No worries. I'm only here to see results," Yang Wendong replied with a smile. Still, he added, "A bit of a mess is fine, but don't let it get out of hand. These items are flammable. Be careful about fire hazards."
Unlike Post-it notes, products like spin mops and adhesive hooks required variety to appeal to consumers. You couldn't just sell a single design indefinitely. Retail points needed options, variety for customers to choose from. That's why the R&D department had been busy designing different versions of both products over the past weeks.
"Understood. I'll remind the team to be more careful," Hong said.
"How many versions of spin mops and adhesive hooks have you designed so far?" Yang asked.
"For the adhesive hooks, which are simpler, we've come up with over 60 different designs. We've already sent them out to the market for testing, and about 20 or so have performed pretty well in terms of sales," Hong replied. "Spin mops are more complex, obviously. We've developed 7 models based on size differences. Sales between them don't differ much."
"Good," Yang nodded. "Keep pushing for more variations. It's just like towels or brooms—more choices mean more chances to meet customer preferences."
"Got it," Hong said firmly.
"Alright," Yang said, turning to Wei Zetao. "Let's go upstairs to the office and discuss something."
"Sure," Wei replied without hesitation. Hong followed as well.
The three of them soon arrived at the sixth-floor office—Yang's private space. Now that the factories were running smoothly, he didn't need to be here as frequently as before.
Especially with his growing involvement in the media sector and plans for future diversified investments—once the cash flow was strong enough, there was no point letting it sit in the bank earning minimal interest. In a place like Hong Kong, investing in high-potential ventures was inevitable.
"Let's sit over here," Yang said, heading toward the sofa area and grabbing three bottles of mineral water from a side table.
No need for the fuss of tea or coffee—they were among close colleagues. Water or soda was more than enough.
After taking a sip, Yang asked, "Old Wei, suppose I want to develop a new product—something that, by my estimate, will require even more injection molding capacity than the spin mop, maybe several times more. Do you think that's feasible?"
Wei exchanged a glance with Hong and then asked, "Mr. Yang, is this thing significantly larger than a spin mop?"
"Yes. Much larger," Yang said with a nod.
Large plastic items consumed far more resources than small ones. With something like adhesive hooks, a single mold could produce dozens at once. The parts were small and cooled quickly, resulting in high productivity.
Larger items were the opposite. One mold typically made only one item at a time, and due to size, cooling took longer. So even if adhesive hooks were more popular, spin mops used far more injection molding resources. And larger items would require even more.
Wei considered it carefully. "If we're producing it ourselves, it's possible—but if demand surges too fast, we'll struggle to keep up. The fastest route would be to outsource to multiple Hong Kong plastic factories.
If this is a large-scale investment, we could consider joint ventures or providing some form of support."
"Makes sense," Yang nodded, then turned to Hong. "Old Hong, bring that suitcase over here."
"Sure." Hong got up, walked over to the corner of the office where Yang had gestured, picked up a suitcase, and carried it back.
Yang grinned. "Heavy?"
Hong replied, "Yeah, but manageable for a short while."
Yang followed up, "Now imagine taking this on a business trip to Japan—or even to Europe or America. What would that feel like?"
Hong sat back down and laughed. "I'd be dead tired. I definitely wouldn't pack so much. I'd just bring the essentials and buy the rest once I got there."
"Exactly. That's how most people think," Yang said. "But what if we solved that problem? You guys have worked in factories your whole life—when you need to move something heavy over a long distance, what do you do?"
Hong thought about it. "Put it on a cart?"
"That works," Yang nodded. "But what if there's no cart available—or the place you're in doesn't allow carts? Think about those temperature-controlled chambers we import from Japan. How are they moved?"
"They have wheels underneath," Hong replied immediately. Then it clicked. He looked at Yang with wide eyes. "You mean… put wheels under the suitcase?"
"Yes. With wheels, wouldn't it be much easier to carry?" Yang said with a knowing smile.
In Yang's past life, people probably didn't give wheeled suitcases much thought—they were so common, so normal. But decades ago, in the time they were now in, people still carried their luggage by hand, just like in old Republican-era films.
The only recent "innovation" had been the shift from heavy wooden or leather trunks to lighter plastic ones following the rise of the plastics industry in the 1950s.
Wei now chimed in, "Mr. Yang, putting wheels on a plastic suitcase isn't difficult. But how would you pull or push it? You're not expecting people to hunch over to drag them along the ground, are you?"
"Great question," Yang replied with a grin. "That's exactly the core problem we need to solve. If we can do that, we'll be solving a massive pain point for millions—maybe even hundreds of millions—of travelers."
He then rolled the heavy suitcase over and pointed to its side. "What if we install a retractable handle on this side? Something you can pull out when needed and push back in when you don't. That way, it doesn't interfere with normal use.
When you need to move it, just pull the handle out and drag it behind you like a trolley. What do you think?"
Wei and Hong stared at him, momentarily speechless. Then Hong finally blurted out, "Mr. Yang, that's… genius! That would reduce the effort needed to carry luggage by at least 80%!"
Yang Wendong nodded and said, "Having the idea is one thing, but making it happen—that's up to you guys. I don't have the skills to do it."
In his previous life, he wasn't an industrial designer or a structural engineer. He knew many everyday products existed, sure—but as for how they were constructed internally, he had no clue.
After all, an ordinary person wouldn't usually delve into such things.
So now, in this era, he could only put forward his ideas and let the engineering team figure out the technical side of things.
Hong Xuefei nodded. "Understood. I'll arrange for the team to begin working on it right away."
"Alright," Yang Wendong said. "Start by setting up an internal development project. Old Wei, once the project is filed, make a few copies of the relevant documentation and have them sealed and archived with Lawyer Zhang. That way, if anything happens in the future, we'll have proof that our company was the first to propose the concept."
At this stage, the wheeled suitcase with a retractable handle was still purely conceptual. There was no way to file a patent yet—not even a design patent, let alone a utility one.
In that case, safeguarding internal documents and clearly establishing a development timeline was essential. It was the best form of protection.
Wei Zetao nodded. "Got it. We'll file the project this afternoon, and I'll personally take the documents to Lawyer Zhang."
"Good." Yang nodded, then pulled out a document. "This is a rough sketch I drew. You can use it as reference."
While he didn't understand the internal mechanics of a wheeled suitcase, he certainly remembered what it looked like from the outside.
So he had drawn a basic version, with a brief written description next to it—basically the most he could offer in terms of technical input.
"Got it, Mr. Yang," Hong said with a smile, taking the document.
Wei chuckled. "If this idea comes to life, Mr. Yang, I bet next year the whole company will be running around like mad again."
"Haha, having the idea is one thing, but turning it into a real product—that'll depend on everyone's hard work," Yang replied with a grin.
Wei nodded. "Understood. I'll also prepare on the production side. As for finding suppliers, leave that to me."
"Good. Everyone handles their own responsibilities," Yang said.
With the rolling suitcase officially handed over to the professionals, Yang's role now was simply to monitor progress every now and then.
Another week flew by, and Christmas was approaching in Hong Kong. Yet Changxing Industrial's factories were as busy as ever. The Post-it note and adhesive hook production lines on the first floor were going full throttle, and every worker's eyes gleamed with energy.
Because unlike other factories, at Changxing, the busier things got, the more everyone earned—and the better they ate.
At lunchtime, workers headed to the cafeteria in staggered groups. The first batch was the women on the packaging line.
On the way, they chatted and laughed with each other in high spirits.
But as they approached the cafeteria, a security guard stopped a few of them. "New company policy," he said. "You can't bring food containers in anymore. Also, leftover food from the cafeteria can no longer be taken out."
"What?!" The women froze. Back home, their kids were waiting for them to bring back something tasty.
But no one dared to protest. Just a few days earlier, someone had been fined 50 HKD for wasting food. When she complained, she was fired on the spot.
That incident had scared many. Their current jobs were coveted. Plenty of people on the outside were eager to get in. Some of them had only gotten in early because of luck—if they had to find another job now, it wouldn't be anything close to this.
The guard added, "You can leave your containers on this table. The company understands that you want to bring food home, so we've prepared steamed buns for everyone. Each person gets some.
You can eat them or take them home—it's up to you. But regular food from the cafeteria can't be taken out anymore."
"Steamed buns?" The women looked at one another, then obediently placed their food containers on the table before going inside.
Once in the cafeteria, they spotted a stack of bamboo steamers in the corner near the serving line.
Everyone got their meals as usual. Then, when they reached the steamer section, the staff there said, "Two buns per person—one meat, one vegetarian."
The women looked in disbelief at the palm-sized buns. But with people lining up behind them, they quickly took their share and found places to sit.
"These really have meat! I poked it with my chopsticks!" one woman exclaimed in delight. "This is way better than what I used to bring home. My son hasn't had a meat bun in so long—he's going to be so happy."
"Same here!" another said.
Several of them sat together, chatting as they carefully wrapped their buns in greaseproof paper and set them aside to take home. Not one of them ate the buns—every single one was saving them.
Just then, another worker came over and took the last seat at their table. "I asked one of the logistics guys. The buns are the big boss's idea. He knew we had kids at home, so he made sure they prepared these just for us."
"You mean Mr. Yang?" someone asked in surprise. "He's so rich—he still thinks about us?"
"You think he's like those other bosses?" another chimed in. "Mr. Yang grew up in the squatter areas. He was poorer than us back then. Now that he's made it, of course he remembers the people struggling."
"Yeah." A woman beside her said sincerely, "We're really lucky to have a boss like Mr. Yang. I hope my son can work for him one day."
"Totally. May Mr. Yang live a long life, get even richer, and hire even more of us!"
Meanwhile, on the other side of the cafeteria, Yang Wendong had also arrived. He was eating a meat bun brought over by one of the staff. From time to time, he made casual inspections of the cafeteria to check on food quality.
Wei Zetao grinned. "Mr. Yang, everyone's really thankful for you. I wouldn't be surprised if your little bun strategy boosts productivity by 10%."
"I see it as a win-win," Yang replied with a smile. "I've always believed that if you treat your employees sincerely, they'll give back just as sincerely.
These buns? Hardly cost anything."
Wei agreed. "Just a few more people in the kitchen, some flour and vegetables—it's practically nothing."
"Exactly," Yang said with a nod.
For a factory with over a thousand workers—especially in a high-margin industry like theirs—this cost was barely even noticeable.
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