Walk into any typical suburban neighborhood (aka, HDB public housing estate) in Singapore, and you'll see the same scene.

Neighbors chatting in the Hokkien dialect near the entrance, aunties comparing prices on cooking oil, and uncles weighing durian.

But this isn't a wet market. It's actually Sheng Siong, a supermarket chain that's designed to feel like one.

International giants and local chains poured millions into building modern, sleek stores and loyalty apps. Sheng Siong is all about what their suburban community (the 80% of Singaporeans that live in public housing) need.

That's fresh produce, selling it cheaper than anyone else, and preserving the community neighborhood feeling of a wet market.

Today, it's a publicly listed company with a market cap of over S$3B ($2.3B), with 83 stores across Singapore. And that all began with a pig farm.

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🐷 This little piggy

Lim Hock Chee grew up on a pig farm in the far northeast of Singapore, back when the area had mud roads and metal sheds.

His father ran the farm, and the family lived simply. Every morning before school, Hock Chee and his brothers helped feed the pigs, clean the pens, and haul feed.

The scale was huge.

Their father's farm raised 3,000 pigs at its peak. But then came the government order: every pig farm would close. No exceptions.

The last pig farms were to be phased out by 1989.

And in 1984, the brothers faced a problem: their father's pig farm had too many pigs and not enough buyers.

So, Hock Chee and his wife rented a small pork counter inside a Savewell Supermarket in a Singaporean neighborhood called Ang Mo Kio (AMK for short) paying the owner 20% of sales revenue as rent.

They cut meat, served customers, and learned the retail business from the inside.

But the next year, the Savewell chain ran into financial trouble, and its outlets were put up for sale.

🛒 From pigs to produce

And while they had no experience running a supermarket, the Lim brothers saw this as their opportunity. After all, their pig farm was shutting down.

With some money borrowed from their father, they bought the entire AMK store at Block 122 AMK Avenue 3 in 1985 for S$30K ($22K). They called it Sheng Siong, which means "prosperity" in Mandarin.

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💰 Cutting costs, not corners

Sheng Siong's edge wasn't innovation. It was efficiency.

The brothers ran the business like they ran the pig farm: lean, disciplined, and obsessed with margins. They bought directly from suppliers, cutting out middlemen.

They negotiated hard, leveraging bulk orders to get better prices. They kept store designs simple. There was no room or budget for fancy lighting or expensive fixtures. They prioritized the essentials, like clean aisles and clear pricing.

Every dollar saved went into lowering prices for customers.

Other supermarkets chased premium shoppers. Sheng Siong chased volume. They knew heartland (suburban) Singaporeans didn't care about ambiance, they cared about value.

If you could buy the same Maggi soy sauce for 20 cents less at Sheng Siong, you'd go to Sheng Siong. This wasn't a strategy they learned from school. It was instinct, born from years of watching their father stretch every cent on the farm.

And it worked. Daily takings grew from S$2K ($1.5K) in 1985 to S$19K ($14K) in just three years.

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🏘️ Betting on the neighborhoods

As Sheng Siong grew, the brothers made a decision that confused outsiders: they would focus almost entirely on HDB estates. Forget the shopping malls and prime districts.

Step inside a Sheng Siong, and it’s far from your posh, quiet, grocery experience. Your senses explode.

It’s the water bubbling in the tanks with fresh fish, the smell of ripe durians, aunties squeezing every mango for ripeness, the beeping of machines as cashiers quickly scan items, and the rapid-fire Hokkien and Teochew banter at checkout.

This wasn't just a supermarket. It was part of the neighborhood.

While competitors fought for space in Orchard Road and Marina Bay, Sheng Siong set up shops in Woodlands, Bedok, Tampines.

These were neighborhoods where families lived, where aunties shopped daily, where every dollar mattered. And that meant the rent was cheaper and foot traffic was consistent as long as they kept loyalty fierce.

The brothers were chasing something the big chains weren’t.

Convenience and community. Because that’s what their suburban shoppers were looking for beyond just their groceries.

Sheng Siong became part of the daily rhythm. You'd see the same faces, the same cashiers, the same uncles picking through the discount bins.

And the Lim brothers knew their customers. They understood which vegetables mattered for which dishes, which cuts of pork sold fastest, and how much a retiree could afford to spend on rice.

It was more than stocking shelves with the essentials. They were here to build trust, one neighbor at a time.

It wasn't glamorous. But it was sustainable. And it built something money couldn't buy: belonging.

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🎭 Reading the room

The brothers knew Singapore's unspoken rules. They separated frogs from other seafood (frogs aren't halal) keeping them in clearly marked separate sections.

And they hired aunties and uncles who spoke Hokkien, Teochew, and Cantonese, building connections dialect by dialect.

In multi-racial Singapore, these details weren't nice-to-haves. They are localization strategies key to their growth and survival.

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🥊 Fighting the giants

By the 2000s, you could only laugh at the odds. Local chain NTUC FairPrice had over 100 supermarkets plus convenience stores and government backing since 1973.

Cold Storage had billions from Hong Kong's Dairy Farm. Carrefour, the French giant worth S$12B ($9B) globally, had just opened its second hypermarket.

And Giant supermarket came in from Malaysia.

The Lim brothers? Sheng Siong had 23 stores and was a family business. They had no big-name investors or massive marketing budgets.

The pressure was real. Suppliers preferred the big chains. Landlords wanted anchor tenants with name recognition. And every new competitor store threatened to pull customers away. But the Lim brothers didn't panic.

They doubled down on what they did best: low prices, high efficiency, and deep community ties. They opened more stores in underserved neighborhoods.

They kept their supply chain tight. And they trained their staff to treat every customer like a neighbor, not a transaction. Slowly, the strategy paid off.

By 2008, Sheng Siong leapt from 8th position to become the third largest retailer in Singapore by sales volume.

And in the heartland neighborhoods where most Singaporeans lived, Sheng Siong became the default choice.

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📈 Going public without losing soul

In 2011, Sheng Siong made a bold move: they listed on the Singapore Exchange on August 17th.

Going public meant scrutiny, shareholders, and pressure to grow faster. Many family businesses lost their identity after listing, chasing quarterly results over long-term values.

But the Lim brothers structured the IPO carefully. They retained majority control. They kept the same leadership team.

And they made it clear: Sheng Siong would grow, but not at the expense of its core principles.

The market responded positively. Investors saw what the brothers had built, a profitable, disciplined business with strong cash flow and loyal customers. Sheng Siong wasn't sexy, but it was solid.

And, even after going public, the culture didn't change.

Stores still felt the same. Prices stayed competitive.

They even connected with customers in unexpected ways. Their TV variety show 'The Sheng Siong Show,' launched in 2007 on Singapore's Channel 8, has given away over S$15M ($11M) in prizes over the years.

One shopper won S$193K ($145K) in a single episode, which was the third-largest game show prize in Singapore history.

And during COVID, while other companies cut costs, they gave staff up to 16 months of bonuses.

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🌊 Weathering the storms

Being public didn't make things easier.

The brothers faced constant pressure to expand faster, to chase trends, to compromise on their principles for short-term gains. Each setback tested their resilience.

But the brothers never wavered from their core belief: stay disciplined, stay focused on the heartland, and never sacrifice quality or value for growth.

They invested heavily in infrastructure. In 2011, they opened a new S$65M ($49M) headquarters and distribution center at Mandai Link, four times larger than their old warehouse.

They implemented modern technologies like electronic price labeling and automated storage systems. But through it all, the heartland strategy remained unchanged.

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🚀 Building for the next decade

In 2025, forty years after opening that first store in AMK, the Lim brothers made their boldest move yet: a S$520M ($402M) expansion plan that would reshape Sheng Siong's future.

The plan was ambitious but characteristically disciplined. They would build a massive new warehouse in Sungei Kadut on a 61,297-square-meter site. It's 2.5 times larger than their current Mandai facility, scheduled for completion in 2029.

This infrastructure backbone would support at least 40 additional stores, taking them from 83 stores to 120 by 2031, way ahead of their original timeline.

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🌱 Staying grounded while growing

Today, Sheng Siong operates 83 stores across Singapore, with plans to reach 120.

It's one of the most profitable supermarket chains in the country, with consistent dividends and a loyal customer base that spans generations.

But walk into any Sheng Siong, and you'll still see the same simplicity. No flashy displays. No gimmicks. Just good prices, fresh produce, and staff who remember your face. The Lim brothers still run the business.

Hock Chee is still CEO. They still open stores in heartland estates, not premium malls.

They still prioritize efficiency over expansion for expansion's sake. And the formula that worked in 1985: low costs, high trust, deep community roots still works today.

While tech-driven grocery stores promise same-day delivery and local Singaporean giants launch AI-powered stores, Sheng Siong doubles down on humans.

In the neighborhoods, their bet is that aunties beat algorithms.

Because when you focus on the essentials that truly matter to your customers, you'll find that those needs stand the test of time.

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🏆 The legacy

Forty years ago, the Lim brothers had a choice: take the government's compensation for closing their pig farm and find safe jobs, or bet everything on a failing supermarket in Ang Mo Kio.

Today, as they pour S$520M ($402M) into expansion, more than many tech unicorns ever raise, they're making the same bet: that in a world of AI, people still want their grocery store to feel like home.

Because Sheng Siong isn't really in the supermarket business.

They're in the business of showing up for neighbors.

The pig farm is gone. But the farmers are still here, feeding Singapore, but with far more than just pork.

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Takeaway Scoop

Lessons you can take from the Sheng Siong story.

• Know your customer better than anyone else.
  The Lim brothers didn't just serve the heartland. They were the heartland. They spoke dialect, understood which vegetables mattered for which dishes, and knew exactly how much a retiree could spend on rice. That deep cultural fluency became their moat. In Southeast Asia, speaking your customer's language (literally) beats any marketing campaign.
• Efficiency is your edge when you can't outspend competitors. Sheng Siong couldn't compete on marketing or prime locations, so they competed on margins. No middlemen, no fancy fixtures, no consultants. Daily takings grew from S$2K to S$19K in three years through pure operational discipline. For founders without deep pockets, boring efficiency is how you survive long enough to thrive.
• Build infrastructure before you need it. S$65M for a distribution center with 25 stores. S$520M for a warehouse at 83 stores to reach 120. Both times, people called them crazy. Both times, they were right. Build for where you’re going, not where you are. When opportunity comes, you’ll be ready to move.
• Double down on what works, ignore what doesn't. While competitors chased malls, went international, or built apps, Sheng Siong kept opening in HDB estates. Forty years later, their biggest expansion is... more HDB estates. The best growth strategy isn't always saying yes to new things. It's saying no to everything except what you do better than anyone else.
• Culture survives scale if you protect it from day one. They structured their IPO to retain majority control. They kept the same leadership. During COVID, they gave staff 16-month bonuses while others cut costs. Their TV show gave away S$15M to customers. You can grow without losing your soul, but only if you defend what makes you different at every decision point.

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