He smiled when Li Li heard that Haifeng was developing a modular vehicle platform.
"President Lu, if you build it, you must help us at Lichi too. Money's not an issue."
It wasn't flattery. Lichi and the other top-performing local brands—Great Wall, Landwind, Taishan—knew what Haifeng was cooking wasn't for sale.
So the moment they got wind of it, they rushed to bid.
"Once it's ready, let us know. We want in."
Haifeng nodded.
"Alright. We'll help you build your own when the system's ready."
For everyone else? The second- and third-tier automakers could only watch, envious.
They couldn't afford a platform like this—not even if it were for sale.
After the factory tour, Haifeng led the delegation to the engine line.
And unlike the vehicle assembly section, this time, everyone paid attention.
CEOs. Engineers. All of them hovered over the machines, squinting, whispering, scribbling.
They stared at crankshafts like toddlers watching fireworks.
But of course, no one could reverse-engineer a process by staring at it.
Eventually, reality set in. The sighs grew louder. The envy thickens.
They weren't just jealous of the hardware. They were envious that China Star's engineers could design engines from scratch, while most still imported theirs.
By noon, Haifeng led them all to the employee cafeteria for lunch.
No reservations. No catering.
Just the company canteen.
But their jaws dropped when the visitors stepped inside and saw the spread.
Lobster. Abalone. Roasted duck. Rabbit. Seasonal seafood. Wild game. Chef-curated plates.
"President Lu, be honest—did you used to run a restaurant?"
"If you tell me this is daily staff food, I'm walking back to the airport."
"You're not building cars—you're brainwashing employees through their stomachs!"
"If I don't revamp my cafeteria when I get home, I'll get mutinied."
Haifeng smiled but didn't comment. They might not have recovered if they had seen the full-scale cafeteria at China Star.
After lunch and a quick break, the group moved to the Audi R&D building.
Inside the showroom on the first floor, the technical department had already laid out every available engine and transmission model—catalogued, polished, and labeled.
As the guests walked in, a chatter rippled through the room.
"So many models?"
"These are all different displacements? Look at the turbo setups!"
"Is this the 1.5T?"
"Look at this sheet—Qiqiong Series, 1.5T direct injection, turbocharged, 132kW max output, 220Nm torque, 185 horsepower? Are you kidding me?"
"I want to mount this thing in my living room. It's art."
The Qiqiong 1.5T was stealing the show.
The engineers swarmed it.
Direct injection. Variable timing chain. Turbo manifold. Tang San had even optimized the turbo blades for higher flow and faster spin-up.
More torque, quicker throttle, less lag—without wrecking efficiency.
It was everything they wanted in a small engine.
Haifeng had ordered it built specifically for these companies—something that could compete globally in both power and economy, built for cars under 2.0L but priced to move.
Even the CEOs couldn't help but drool over the display.
They all knew: in China, the 1.5L class was the backbone of sedans and family cars.
2.0L engines were mostly for SUVs. Below that, everything lived and died on 1.5s.
The Qiqiong 1.5T wasn't just strong but also fuel-efficient and modular.
It was the heart domestic automakers had been dreaming of.
Haifeng didn't waste time. He had Tang San design the Qiqiong line in three displacements:
1.5T / 1.8T / 2.0T
All turbocharged, all optimized for small cars and light crossovers.
But they wouldn't be available to just anyone.
Haifeng was firm on this: no sales to low-end models under ¥80,000 (~$11,000).
Why?
Because that engine costs real money to build.
And he wasn't about to let it become "just another cheap part" in a throwaway econobox.
These were flagship-tier compact powerplants—and they'd be priced and positioned accordingly.