"145 million. We'll sweeten the deal: we'll absorb the 100 million in back pay and cover every penny of your outstanding raw material debt." I kept my hands clasped on the table, staring Yuzuki dead in the eye.
"Impossible," he fired back. "Even with the debt coverage, that only brings your total offer to 145 million. Our valuation is north of 200 million. You aren't negotiating in good faith. Our counter is 160 million for a combined 80% stake from us and Weili. We'll keep the remaining 20% and stay out of your way."
"No," I said, firm. "It's 100% or nothing. I need total control. This factory is a critical node in our future, and I'm not sharing the steering wheel."
Yuzuki softened his voice, switching to a more personal pitch. "The market is a meat grinder right now. The bigger you are, the harder you fall. We're just trying to diversify so we have a parachute. If you partner with us, you lower your own risk."
"I get it, Yuzuki. You poured your soul into this place. But look at your reality. Who else is lining up to buy a dead factory in this climate? Buyers are scarce; your leverage is non-existent."
"Truthfully, we had the budget to build a greenfield facility from scratch. But that's slow. We're buying your factory for the time savings—that's the only real premium here. Your 'advantages' are just what put you at the top of our list, not the top of the market."
I leaned back, relaxed. "We're both from Anxi. I'm looking out for a local player. But this is my final offer. If it's not enough, we can walk away."
The air in the room got heavy. They were smart guys; they knew I wasn't bluffing. If they lost me, they were looking at bankruptcy, not a payday. Yuzuki sighed, looking defeated. "Fine. Forget the stake. But the price is an insult. You're bleeding us while we're down."
I chuckled and gestured to Tyler. "Yuzuki, the fact that we're still sitting here proves we're sincere. But negotiations aren't about being 'fair'—they're about finding the absolute ceiling of what a deal can handle. Your plant is currently a ghost town; that doesn't exactly command a premium."
"We aren't trying to lowball you. We ran a rigorous audit. That amount plus debt coverage is the actual market value."
Yuzuki gestured around. "Look at the scale! 1,073 acres, 5.5 million square feet of floor space! We have eight main buildings, twenty-six workshops, and high-precision machinery from Europe that cost tens of millions alone. All that adds up!"
Tyler shook his head. "Yuzuki, you know as well as I do that industrial real estate is stagnant. The buildings are just shells. We're paying for the speed of the handover. If you're so attached to the machines, feel free to pull them out. We don't need them."
Yuzuki went quiet. He knew stripping the factory would turn it into a hollow ruin. The set was only valuable as a whole.
"200 plus the debt. That's my floor," Yuzuki insisted.
I stood my ground. "Bottom lines are made to be broken. That is a non-starter. Look, I'll show you some good faith: 160 million, total. We take the debt, you take the check. That's the limit."
"You always say humanity's strength is in breaking limits," Yuzuki countered, throwing my own words back at me. He knew we were at the edge. The gap was narrowing, but the deadlock remained. Neither side was ready to yield the final million just yet.
Yuzuki stood up, his face unreadable. "This isn't going to be settled over a single lunch. Nicholas, Tyler—let's go get some air. My head is spinning."
I nodded to our lead negotiator, stood up, and followed Yuzuki and Terry out into the courtyard.
"A friend brought me some top-shelf coffee from Africa," Yuzuki said as we walked. "I brought some today. You have to try it later."
I laughed. "You've got the wrong guys, Yuzuki. We wouldn't know good coffee if it hit us in the face."
"It's fine," he smiled, his gaze lingering on the sprawling, silent factory. "At the end of the day, it's just coffee. If it keeps us going long enough to reach a deal, that's all that matters."