At this time of year, Qi Guanghua should be the busiest, because he has to rush for "Christmas orders" -- the factory makes various models of Hello Kitty, or glue the world's most famous cartoon cat image onto the gift boots, often tens of millions of goods.

These HELLOKITTY usually presents a kind of bright, pure image, with a delicate bag and a pretty bow on the head. Their makers, however, do not play a glamorous role in the profit chain of the international processing trade: in 2007, an apple-high gift boot was supplied to Japanese traders for less than 3 yuan, and the price on Japanese shelves was more than 30 yuan in yuan terms.

In spite of this, for Europe, the United States, Japan OEM business, still accompanied Qi Guanghua nearly 30 years of time, from "made in Hong Kong" to "made in Longgang", from the spring breeze to difficult. The best days are behind him. Qi Guanghua, and his peers, now often use the word "boil" to describe the predicament of labor-intensive factories in the Pearl River Delta. In the end, some of them have chosen to stay, while others have left.

Qi Guanghua was no longer struggling. More than two months ago, he officially closed the Wanlilai toy factory and laid off the workers. Since then, these cute HELLOKITTY characters will no longer be born in Longgang, Shenzhen. Qi Guanghua said that when he watched the workers of the waste company enter his factory building and break down the machines into scrap metal for sale, his heart immediately began to ache -- "but I really can't see any hope of going on."

Hong Kong to the north

Qi Guanghua's office is located in an old industrial building in Kowloon Bay, a district once known for its "developed light manufacturing industry". The floors are empty, making the three one-metre-high HELLOKITTY dolls stand out. They stand in the elevator, in front of Qi Guanghua's trading company, have become living signs and business cards.

Qi Guanghua used to run a factory here for nearly 10 years. His early studies in textiles and a stint at the Japanese consulate have prompted him to roll up his sleeves. However, in 1985, when he joined the industry, Hong Kong factories had already had signs of moving north, "so the Enterprise Registry said to me, people come to [register] most of the factories are closed, but you still open?"

At that time, Kowloon Bay was much like the later Longgang in Shenzhen, with simple factory buildings everywhere and container trucks bumping along the potholed concrete road. This is where Qi Guanghua's toy business began. He bought a half-story industrial building for HK $300 a square foot and, with his wife, hired workers to pound toys for export.

"In our generation of Hong Kong people who work in factories, everyone is a '7-11' (starting at 7am and leaving at 11pm), both the owners and the workers. In those years, enough diligence and economy meant development." Qi Guanghua recalled. He and his wife also went to toy fairs in New York, Nuremberg and other places and advertised in trade magazines to cut down on the export middleman.

In the beginning, Qi Guanghua targeted electric toys that "required technical ability," such as electric trains that could smoke. Such toys can be sold for more than HK $200 for a body, and HK $600 or HK $700 for the front. With the development of the factory, Qi Guanghua later made hair transplant blow molding toys, another variety with a slight technical threshold.

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