In just a few weeks, the number of Chinese car companies scrambling into the family car market had exploded—over sixty new entrants, all at once.
The wave was so massive that it bordered on absurdity. Haifeng watched it unfold with mild amusement, then drove straight to the Audi Motors plant.
Zhao Jianhua was already waiting in the conference room when he arrived. As soon as Haifeng entered, Zhao stood up.
"I don't get it. It's like the entire industry went mad overnight. Our Audi platform has become a buffet—everyone wants a piece."
Haifeng chuckled and waved him down.
He turned to Xu Zhilin, seated beside them.
"Uncle Xu, what do you think?"
Xu adjusted his posture.
"These companies are all chasing the same three core components: chassis platform, engine, and transmission."
"If we sell them, we'll make a fortune short-term."
"But in the long run, it'll flood the market with cookie-cutter configurations. That'll hurt our A4's edge."
"I talked it over with Lao Zhao. If we sell the current A4 components, I recommend the lab begin R&D on a new A4 replacement now—something to stay ahead."
Haifeng nodded. Xu had laid out both sides cleanly and left the choice to him.
But there was one angle Xu hadn't quite grasped.
The A4 was a mid-to-high-end model with premium components.
These new companies were all chasing economical family cars.
No one buying in the 60K–130K RMB range would pay for high-end engines and 8AT transmissions. That wasn't the market.
Xu continued.
"I've heard from my contacts—taxes haven't shifted yet, but foreign suppliers are raising prices. Forty percent across the board."
"That's why these startups are turning to us."
Haifeng's eyes narrowed.
Foreign suppliers were clever.
Under standard logic, jacking up prices would push clients away. But this move wasn't about squeezing margins.
It was about forcing Chinese startups into a trap.
Haifeng could see it.
The foreign suppliers knew Audi's capacity was limited. They knew China Star couldn't fill the entire market. So they purposely raised prices, knowing demand would boomerang back to them once Audi fell short.
It was a setup.
If Audi couldn't meet supply, the buyers would have no choice but to return to the overpriced foreign parts, with no negotiating leverage.
"In that case..." Haifeng muttered. "Let's flip the game."
If production capacity is the bottleneck, then don't sell parts.
Sell simplified tech. Strip down. License selectively. Keep control.
He stood.
"Liu Jianyu, Uncle Xu—you two handle the parts conversations. I've got somewhere to be."
He drove straight to China Star's No. 1 Lab.
His goal was simple:
Design a stripped-down, cheap-to-produce, family-grade sedan platform with low technical complexity and compatibility, and ready to license.
He didn't plan to enter that market himself. Not directly.
That segment was brutal.
Margins were razor thin, scale was everything, and brand didn't matter as much as price and uptime.
He knew it well.
Buyers earning around ¥100,000 a year dominated the family car space in China. Their budget was limited. Their demands weren't.
They wanted safety, comfort, practicality, and no problems.
Durable and affordable. No frills. Just something that worked.
The formula sounded simple. But building a car that was both cheap and truly reliable?
That took industrial maturity, supply chain coordination, and cost control that only a handful of Japanese companies had mastered.
China Star didn't have that.
Not yet.
And Haifeng knew it.
"Let them chase production lines," he said to himself. "We'll sell them a blueprint. Let them fight each other while we earn on the backend."
No commitment. No inventory. No headaches.
He'd give the market what it needed—and hold the crown jewels for himself.