A Conversation with Thailand's First Unicorn Founder: From Orphan to $3 Billion CEO --- When Kavin Bhumikittikul was six years old, he watched his mother walk out the door and never come back. His father, a gambling addict, had accumulated crushing debts. The family shattered. Kavin and his siblings were sent to separate orphanages across Bangkok. Forty years later, he is the founder and CEO of Agoda, the online travel platform valued at roughly $3 billion — Thailand's first unicorn, and one of Southeast Asia's most consequential tech companies. I met Kavin at Agoda's Bangkok headquarters, a sleek glass tower overlooking the Chao Phraya River. He arrived without an entourage, wearing a company polo shirt and carrying his own laptop bag. The contrast between his current stature and his origins is almost too stark to process. Yet he speaks about both with the same even, analytical tone — as if describing data points in a business case rather than his own life. --- **"I learned to sell before I learned to read properly"** Kavin's earliest memory of commerce is selling candy to other children at his orphanage, age seven. He would buy bulk packs with his meager allowance

"The fiercer the storm, the brighter the flash." By Ren Qian

Edited by Chen Zhiyan

On a highway, Santi opens his car window and scatters cash into the air, desperate to convince a technical co-founder to join him;

At a hotel press conference, Santi kneels to secure a partnership with a Chinese logistics company, only to learn he's been stripped of his CEO title. He makes a scene but can only watch his stake dilute from 19% to 1.9%;

On a rain-soaked street in Thailand, Santi—personally driving a delivery truck—is knocked unconscious. A swarm of yellow motorcycles rushes to help, wrapping scattered parcels in plastic bags and racing them to the airport;

On a clear, cloudless day, Santi finishes work to find a single bullet placed on his car hood, with a note: "Your life is worth only one bullet"...

These are the iconic scenes from the Thai drama The Crazy Unicorn, and also the real life of its protagonist—Li Fashun, a Thai-Chinese entrepreneur and founder of Flash Express.

Summarizing Li's rise reads like a classic underdog novel.

His parents divorced when he was 13. He grew up in an orphanage, hunting birds for food and considering instant noodles over cold rice a taste of heaven. To survive, Li learned early to read people and spot opportunities. During school, he earned living expenses selling Lao Gan Ma chili sauce, instant noodles, and cigarettes to Chinese exchange students. He even taught himself Mandarin and became their unofficial "tutor."

In his sophomore year, he took over a failing sand quarry. After solving corruption, gang interference, and aging equipment, he turned it around and earned his first pot of gold—a kilogram of Thai baht in cash. He later became a tour guide, leveraged wealthy Chinese tourists as a springboard into real estate, and made hundreds of millions of baht in a single year.

A trip to China to sell property opened his eyes to how cheap courier services were there. At the time, mailing even an empty box in Thailand cost 50 baht (about 11 RMB)—a heavy burden, especially for rural residents. In 2017, Li converted this insight into action. Flash Express was founded in Bangkok with two audacious firsts for Thailand's logistics industry: free door-to-door pickup, and year-round operations without holidays.

In just four years, Li built Flash Express to a $2.1 billion valuation, making it Thailand's first unicorn. Today it delivers 700 million parcels annually, with 10,000 service points and 100,000 employees.

In recent years, Li has expanded from logistics upstream into marketing, finance, and broader supply chain services. He has even brought Chinese brands like Kayou and Chagee into Thailand. This July, Thai President Foods invested 142 million baht for a 51% stake in Chagee Thailand; Li contributed 25%, and Ananda Development's founder put in 20%. The combined resources of these three companies cover channel distribution, supply chain, logistics, and store location selection—critical links for Chinese brands going global—with plans for total follow-on investment of 1.42 billion baht.

Recently, Anyong Waves met Li at Flash Express's Beijing R&D center. We discussed The Crazy Unicorn, his childhood, the blood-and-tears moments of his entrepreneurial journey, and his observations on business and human nature. Up close, one quality runs through this self-made tycoon: to succeed, first go a little crazy.

The Crazy Unicorn's director said he'd never met anyone with such force—"rising from the very bottom of society, Li Fashun's life is practically a movie." Yet despite all he's seen, Li is only 34.

The following conversation has been edited for length and clarity.

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Part 01: Chinese Elements

Anyong: In The Crazy Unicorn, there's a scene where the three Flash Express co-founders rush to the airport in a rainstorm to pitch a Chinese investor, convincing him in just 15 minutes. Who was that in real life?

Li Fashun: It was Sam Gao, then VP at Gaorong Capital. But the meeting was at their Beijing office. Sam arranged for me to meet founding partner Zhen Zhang. We talked for about an hour. Zhang asked very few business questions—mostly about the Thai market and my personal life. I mentioned I'd adopted some children, things like that. Afterward, Sam came to Thailand for due diligence, and they issued a term sheet directly.

Anyong: How critical was that funding to Flash Express?

Li Fashun: If I had to identify what kept Flash Express alive, good shareholders would rank first. In our first two years, we met every investor in Thailand—no one would invest. Our seed round came from Cloud Angel Fund, Gaorong led our angel round, and there was also an individual investor from Alibaba. Without this early life-saving capital, we likely wouldn't exist.

Of course, we also had good timing. I must acknowledge this—success depends heavily on luck. We chose Thailand, one of the best countries for entrepreneurship. We entered logistics on the eve of e-commerce's explosion, and were prepared when COVID accelerated digitalization. Later, our "cheap logistics" forced Thai incumbent Kerry Express to transform—Chinese investors likely saw this too.

Anyong: Beyond Chinese capital, you also have a Chinese co-founder.

Li Fashun: Logistics is an appendage of e-commerce; it's infrastructure. You must understand commercial flow before you can plan logistics. Globally, there are only two templates for e-commerce development: one in the West, one in China. Southeast Asia's consumption habits, demographics, and mobile internet trajectory all more closely resemble China's.

So after starting in 2017, I quickly realized I needed someone who deeply understood Chinese e-commerce's evolution. Through an Alibaba executive's introduction, I met Di Weijie. He was at Alipay then—he understood technology and product, and because he handled payments, he grasped commercial scenarios. He's the classic STEM type: every decision based on data and logic. I'm sales出身—I believe more in intuition and vision.

Anyong: I recall you two were constantly fighting in the series.

Li Fashun: Exactly. Early磨合 was extremely painful—like two people from parallel universes arguing. For example, he wanted to bring China's most advanced "weapons" to battle, but locals just needed a simple "weapon." Chinese people prefer to move fast and iterate constantly; Thai people feel something imperfect is embarrassing to show.

This characteristic meant slowness, which cost market share opportunities, trial-and-error chances. Yet slowness also protected customer trust in the brand. Eventually we found a balance: we could build and revise simultaneously, without losing face.

But this combination gave Flash Express both China's efficient, standardized DNA and Thailand's localized flexibility—our deepest moat.

Anyong: You also put your tech headquarters in Beijing?

Li Fashun: Yes. Beijing has more international视野, dense talent, and engineer dividends. Plus the startup atmosphere is intense—people are incredibly hardworking.

I can say this: among all logistics executives in Thailand, over half came from Flash Express. We've practically become the industry's黄埔军校. Flash Express colleagues are responsible, but one clear trait stands out—our standardization is excellent. That experience is 100% from China, though we've innovated on it.

I've never worked a corporate job in my life, but Weijie has big-company experience. We didn't want talented people to lose out because they couldn't present well in PowerPoint, so we built internal management systems. Experience may be lost in transmission, but standards never are.

Today, Flash Express invests roughly $30–40 million annually in technology. Though costly, it solves most of our problems. To summarize: if you want to do business in Southeast Asia, you must have powerful systems and SOP capabilities.

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Part 02: Breakthrough, Rebirth, and Future

Anyong: Some say Flash Express fundamentally disrupted Thailand's traditional logistics market. Why?

Li Fashun: Before 2017, all Thai logistics companies worked five days a week, 8 a.m. to 5 p.m. Customers had to go to stores and queue themselves. We made three decisions: 365 days a year without breaks; free door-to-door pickup; fully company-owned stores. We rapidly seized market share. Orders then came mainly from social media and cross-border e-commerce small sellers—quite fragmented.

Later J&T entered Thailand. We had some competition, but both established ourselves.

Now we're in phase three. With platform-based volume allocation, we handle major e-commerce platform customers—Shopee, Lazada, TikTok—and their foundational parcel volumes.

Anyong: The 2020 pandemic was a watershed for many cross-border logistics companies. How did you survive?

Li Fashun: Outsiders assumed cross-border logistics companies made a killing then, but the reality was we teetered on the edge of life and death. We faced two crushing pressures: first, massive unplanned spending—masks, gloves, disinfectant, daily cleaning of entire distribution centers, costs were terrifying. Second, a human resources crisis. Tens of thousands of our employees got infected. Thai law mandates 20 days of paid leave for confirmed cases. This meant paying double wages: one for the sick employee resting, another for the new hire delivering parcels. Revenue didn't increase, but costs doubled.

Our largest distribution center—over 2,000 people—had an infection rate exceeding 60%. That was the hardest moment. I stood on stage, looking at exhausted, fearful brothers below, telling them we had to grit our teeth and persist because the country depended on us to keep moving. One employee raised his hand and asked: "Boss, are you going to wait until all of us fall before you're willing to shut this place down?" That question stabbed like a knife.

Ultimately, I decided to close that distribution center.

Anyong: How did you recover from there?

Li Fashun: After shutting down, we refunded all seller shipping fees, compensated for lost goods at full value, and sent buyers gift vouchers. We paid consumers 250 million baht (about 50 million RMB) in total. It was a gut-wrenching loss. But I'm most grateful to our shareholders—they didn't utter a word of blame, instead saying "you made the right decision."

45 days later, we resumed operations. All our customers returned, and business volume was double what it had been. 2021 revenue reached 17 billion baht, with 600 million parcels delivered. This experience was our nirvana and rebirth. It taught us at enormous cost: corporate values and respect for people are the most precious long-term assets.

Anyong: How do you understand this "nirvana and rebirth"?

Li Fashun: When a company is growing rapidly, there's no time to repair the car—you just want to floor the accelerator. This forced pause revealed how bloated and internally competitive we'd become. We made two sweeping reforms:

First, a "pure color" organizational structure. Rather than pursuing "cultural integration" that caused internal friction, we maximized each department's ethnic and cultural strengths. PR, marketing, government relations—100% Thai, they understand local best. IT and R&D—100% Chinese, pursuing extreme efficiency. Product managers—"hybrid" (Thai-Chinese / Malaysian-Chinese), responsible for translating and balancing both sides' needs. Finance, legal, HR—headquarters sets standards, but local staff executes. This completely solved "internal culture wars," letting everyone operate where they're strongest.

Second, extreme flattening. We're a 100,000-person company with only 4 C-level executives and 1 VP. All middle layers were cut. We did the math: the cost of one middle manager could support 5 frontline delivery workers. Much of middle management's work was "chanting scriptures" (making PowerPoint presentations), not "carrying water" (actual work).

Now, all country and business leaders report directly to me and Di Weijie. Decision chains are measured in hours—extremely efficient. Our self-developed FlashBackyard APP makes every delivery worker's daily KPIs and task completion transparent and visible, replacing冗长 reporting processes with systems, ensuring efficient management within a flat structure.

Anyong: I know you've personally invested in Chinese brands like Chagee and Kayou. Why?

Li Fashun: I believe the next 10 years will be the golden decade for Chinese brands expanding into Southeast Asia. Thirty, forty years ago, it was McDonald's, Starbucks, KFC entering Southeast Asia—they created local business titans. Today China's supply chain and brands have fully matured with global capabilities, and Southeast Asia is the undisputed "first stop" geographically, culturally, and in consumption habits.

I favor two types of brands: either ultra-high-value brands like Chagee that provide emotional and identity value, or extreme cost-performance brands like Mixue Ice Cream & Tea that address basic needs. Brands in the middle will struggle enormously. My dream is to successfully incubate 100 Chinese brands in Southeast Asia over the next decade.

Anyong: That declaration sounds like something an investor would say—"I want to do X number of super deals in Y years."

Li Fashun: I am approaching this with an investor's mindset. What Flash Express has accumulated over the years—localized teams, talent recruitment, understanding of regulations, supply chain networks, even relationships with property developers—is precisely what these brands most urgently need and find hardest to build. We're not pure financial investors; we're co-builders.

Take Chagee: we partnered with Thailand's largest food company (Mama instant noodles) and a top property developer. Beyond capital to establish the joint venture, we collaborate comprehensively on supply chain, location selection, logistics, and marketing. We aim to be the most solid, most locally knowledgeable "bridge" for Chinese brands going global.

Anyong: How did you discover Chagee?

Li Fashun: In developing countries, instant noodles are the #1 seller. In emerging economies, bread sales are 10x noodles. But regardless of development stage—developing or developed—beverages outsell bread and noodles combined.

I first tried Chagee at Jingshan Park in Beijing. The first sip stunned me—the tea flavor was strong, the packaging had traditional Chinese cultural elements. I'd never tasted anything like this in Thailand. Later, through XVC's introduction, I talked extensively with Junjie. He explained a concept I completely bought into. He said, no matter how many additions you make, the essence of milk tea is still a cup of water. To gauge a tea brand's ceiling, there's a clear metric: the degree to which it can become a substitute for water.

Chagee is now rapidly changing Thai consumption habits. Though opening stores in Thailand costs 25–30% more than in China, payback is expected within two years.

Anyong: Among cross-border logistics companies, J&T took the low-hanging fruit first, then replicated that success in China—the largest and fastest-growing market—before taking that experience to high-potential markets like the Middle East and Latin America. iMile established itself in the Middle East first, then expanded globally. What's Flash Express's development path?

Li Fashun: China's market is too massive; once giants emerge in细分 sectors, it's hard to enter. But Thailand isn't about entering an existing industry—it's about having a customer base first, then deriving more services from it. In other words, Southeast Asian markets aren't defined by industry, but by demand.

Our ecosystem's core is definitely express delivery, currently in four countries: Thailand, Laos, Malaysia, Philippines. Warehousing spans six: Thailand, Indonesia, Vietnam, Malaysia, Philippines, Singapore. Next is supply chain—providing solutions in nearly every country. Finally finance, with payment licenses in multiple countries.

You can think of it as front-end interception and引流. Express delivery is a price war of bayonets, but if you bind customers at the front end, logistics selection becomes automatic. The upstream determines the downstream's breadth. It's like five fingers clenched into a fist—easier to win than one finger alone.

Anyong: Flash's ecosystem is becoming increasingly rich, far beyond logistics. How do you see the future of globalization?

Li Fashun: My summary is China tech, local touch. Many excellent Chinese companies fail going global because they try to force their domestic model unchanged onto local markets. That doesn't work.

The core challenges ahead are two: First, compliance. Every country's protectionist policies are tightening. Whether you can operate legally and compliantly is the first threshold. Second, acceptance. Are you a co-builder or an extractor? You must integrate into local markets as much as possible, becoming a community of shared interests.

Part 03: Raised in the Storm

Anyong: Let's talk more about you. I watched The Crazy Unicorn—all seven episodes are intense. In 2015 you were just a sophomore, saving a sand quarry. I heard the fired villagers all had knives and wanted you dead.

Li Fashun: I didn't even think about mortal danger. My mind had only one thought: where there's irrationality, it must be fixed.

That was a sand quarry job a senior introduced during sophomore break. The quarry was originally controlled by a Thai industrial family, then sold to a Chinese boss, but was unmanaged and bleeding money. Three core moves saved it: firing corrupt, faction-forming employees; establishing an equipment maintenance department to ensure production; raising prices 15% to stop losing money. This earned me my life-changing first pot of gold.

But as the Chinese saying goes, "a strong dragon cannot suppress a local snake." Looking back, I'm terrified. The quarry workers were all villagers; unemployed, they came at me with knives. Later I hired the township head's daughter as finance and had the village chief manage a road-sweeping contracting team. This was my first realization of how crucial localization is.

Anyong: In the series, the protagonist gets knocked unconscious in a crash, and there's the bullet on the car hood. Did these really happen to you?

Li Fashun: Netflix optimized a lot after buying the script, but 80% is my experience. For example, competitors sabotaging us, hacking our logistics system, forcing emergency overnight diversion to the airport—that's real. The bullet is real too.

The biggest adaptation is that we didn't have the female lead from The Crazy Unicorn helping us during entrepreneurship, so reality was harder than the show.

Anyong: Was being threatened "your life is worth only one bullet" your closest brush with death?

Li Fashun: That was before our 2020 Series D fundraising. One company made an offer with three paths: First, acquisition—for over $1 billion cash, but on condition of firing me and restructuring the company. They believed my being CEO was detrimental to long-term development. Second, becoming our majority shareholder. If I rejected both, the third path was they'd make me disappear their own way.

In the end, someone sent a hitman to leave a bullet on my car with a note.

Anyong: How did you get through that period?

Li Fashun: Driving to work, a police officer in the passenger seat, military following behind—every day like this. Later I went crying to the Crown Property Bureau (the Thai government agency managing royal assets), saying I was being bullied, asking them to negotiate with the other party. That finally resolved it. Three months later, I urgently completed the Series D round.

Anyong: How did you complete the Series D round under threat?

Li Fashun: We approached many excellent investment institutions and family businesses. Among them, Thai Oil, Thai Red Bull Group, and SCB (Siam Commercial Bank) jointly invested over $100 million. They believed Thailand needed its own private logistics enterprise, so this was their first startup investment.

During this period we also visited a top Thai tycoon. He thought highly of us but made a shocking condition: "Flash Express cannot enter the Philippines market." I was stunned. He said, "Fashun, do you think I'm great enough? Is my team excellent enough? With all my resources, this outstanding team, I failed in the Philippines. What makes you think you can succeed?"

We gave up that money and insisted on entering the Philippines. We currently hold second place in market share there.

Anyong: Why?

Li Fashun: It's a risk preference discussion, judgment based on data. The Philippines has a large population, e-commerce growth consistently ranking first in Southeast Asia, labor costs at two-thirds of Thailand's, and a highly fragmented market with small players—enormous opportunity.

We entered the Philippines heavily. First spent 6 months building a fully company-owned network covering over 1,000 points; visited government departments with Thailand's Ministry of Foreign Affairs; hired almost entirely Filipino locals for management. We also regularly held basketball tournaments, visited elementary schools, building more localized connections.

Actually, our 2022 Philippines entry grew alongside commercial flows like TikTok, and strategic partnerships with Shopee and Lazada improved our market share.

Of course this experience also taught me: shareholder patience and support are crucial, but a founder's strategic resolve and belief in the business must be decisive at critical moments.

Anyong: What kind of entrepreneur do you think you are? What kind of entrepreneur do you want to become?

Li Fashun: First, I'm absolutely a grassroots entrepreneur—particularly able to perceive what ordinary people truly need. Second, I'm mixed-race, understanding Chinese better than Thais, and understanding Thailand better than Chinese. I believe anything can be done better through understanding.

Also, being from the bottom, I have a resilience that doesn't easily admit defeat. At the same time I'm very traditional, admiring the integrity and contractual spirit that older-generation entrepreneurs insisted upon.

Anyong: Your experiences are legendary enough to become a Netflix series. Do you think you have lessons others can learn from?

Li Fashun: I think two points to share: First, everyone has the possibility to break through their social class. Second, accomplishing something truly requires enormous courage and determination—not luck alone.

Anyong: Final question—why did you name your company Flash?

Li Fashun: It has two meanings. For customers, it represents "fast"—our service promise, the first impression. But internally, it represents our core spirit: the stronger the storm, the brighter the flash.

My life and entrepreneurial journey have never proceeded under clear skies. I was raised in the storm. Problems, challenges, crises—these are when we truly display our power, tear through darkness, and become visible to all. From surviving the orphanage, to knives at the quarry, to massive pandemic payouts, every storm has made me stronger.

This is the soul of Flash.

Image source: The Crazy Unicorn stills

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