Chapter 966: Selecting Life

Another marriage registration, for Wang Yan, was merely “another one.”

But for Xiong Qingchun, it held deep meaning: finding a reliable person, gaining legal recognition from the state, acquiring security and a sense of spiritual belonging. Leaving the marriage bureau, she looked at the two small red booklets and filled with joy, full of beautiful hopes for a happy future.

“I’m warning you—if you ever do anything to betray me, I’ll cut you down.”

“We just got married, and you’re already thinking about betraying me?” Wang Yan chuckled and shook his head. “Let’s go eat something good and celebrate.”

“Alright, consider it our wedding banquet—let’s eat our fill.”

“You say that, but once we’re eating, don’t hold back—just make sure you’re full.”

“Aren’t you a big eater? You won’t waste anything—even the dog following you would starve.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Wang Yan laughed heartily and got in the car with Xiong Qingchun…

This time, returning together to Nanning wasn’t just about registering their marriage—there was another matter. After over a year of development, their local life software had finally completed testing; the company was registered, and all online launch procedures were settled—they could now begin internet development.

As previously stated, the company was registered under Yan Chunqiu, named “Zhenxuan Life Network Technology Services Co., Ltd.,” so the product’s name was naturally set: “Zhenxuan Life.”

In truth, the internet industry in 2015 was far less forgiving than in 2013. By then, the internet wars were nearing their end, and industry structures had become clear. Companies that once begged for investment had become giants—and now themselves were capital.

Discovering a promising product, they’d invest, lure, copy, and crush it with a few well-placed blows, leaving few rivals, continuously expanding their industrial chains and building wide moats.

At this point, developing such a product—where the landscape was already obvious—was asking for trouble. Every feature he built already had a giant behind it: reviews, recruitment, food delivery, ride-hailing, group buying, errand services, secondhand trading—all were already covered.

But he wasn’t deliberately seeking hardship; he’d merely mentioned this product casually when Zheng Qiudong had launched internet labor dispatch services, and so he’d gone ahead and built it. As for rivals’ encirclement, he wasn’t afraid.

Because he stood with a far broader base of users.

Though he did make money from users, he always prioritized user experience and service. Forget 2015—given the behavior of big companies and big capital, even by 2051, his core principle of prioritizing user experience and service, if he could endure, would still let him break through.

As a platform involving merchants and users, and since he started with ratings, once reputation took hold, fake data would inevitably emerge. Later, when he opened up part-time services, there would inevitably be hookups and scams.

To counter this, Wang Yan implemented a smart program: locking IP addresses and identity information, instantly flagging any abnormal data to ensure authenticity. His smart program was highly effective—efficient and accurate.

As for the upcoming part-time services, he’d analyze conversations and combine company ratings and other dimensions; any violation would be severely punished to ensure the platform’s healthy, green operation.

For other secondhand trading and similar features, he upheld the principle of authenticity between buyer and seller, implementing targeted measures accordingly.

In short, he aimed for “truth”—building credibility and authority—that was success.

In fact, Wang Yan had survived over a thousand years by relying on this truth: genuinely treating consumers as human beings.

Even in the real world, his products were expensive—but the price was justified. Whether software, hardware, quality control, or after-sales service, he ensured consumers could find no fault. Any fault was due to individual employees violating company regulations—handled appropriately, apologized for when necessary.

Of course, he wasn’t gentle with consumers either: he could treat customers as gods, but customers couldn’t treat him as their father—no unnecessary troublemaking, no blowing small issues into big ones.

Compared to this, short videos would’ve been a better choice. At this time, Douyin and Kuaishou hadn’t emerged yet—he could’ve copied them and ended up with another internet unicorn. But that held no interest for him anymore; he was tired of it. Even Zhenxuan Life was just something he’d casually mentioned, then kept muttering about when bored, so he built it as a pastime—something to do while idle.

Launching a new product required promotion, but Wang Yan had no money for mass advertising. He could only ask his staff and pay part-timers ten yuan to download and use the app, then leave positive reviews. They were to post ads for the software in their spare time—on Weibo, Neihan Duanzi, Tieba, forums, and similar platforms.

Of course, this wasn’t dull advertising—it was “anli,” fun, organic sharing. After all, anything could be rated, and there were always unimaginably strange, quirky things—and many comments were actually interesting.

Rated items were, of course, moderated: if someone submitted a rating for urine or a porn star, it would be a nightmare.

This kind of organic promotion, though less intense than mass advertising, still generated decent downloads through word-of-mouth, creating a generally light and cheerful atmosphere.

The explosive growth in downloads and the ensuing unpleasantness, however, stemmed from entertainment stars. Idol traffic had emerged around 2012, with K-pop groups and domestic boy bands attracting countless teenage female fans. They were natural hype machines, traffic magnets—extremely effective.

Zhenxuan Life’s explosive growth began when someone gave TF Boys a low rating, which spread to other platforms, sparking a fan war. Star-chasing fans all downloaded Zhenxuan Life to rate their favorite idols.

Wang Yan’s monitoring system played a crucial role here. Fans adored their idols and were eager to spend—they created countless accounts to rate, and wealthy fans even hired people to do it.

He restricted multiple accounts from one phone, multiple phones from one location—all to ensure objective, authentic data.

Their involvement fully activated the rating system. After all, you can’t just chase stars and fight forever—you have to live. Most were women, with broader interests.

Food, makeup, clothing, shoes, books, movies, companies, schools, other internet products—all were listed.

Meanwhile, Wang Yan iterated the product.

He began categorizing and organizing items, setting up multi-level menus and subcategories. He integrated maps, subdividing provinces, cities, and districts, adding functions tied to location. Most importantly, he calculated and synthesized a national ranking list, comparing all similar items nationwide.

It was relatively reliable, because it was genuine, widespread evaluation—by the people participating in the network.

This actually helped some people rediscover their own cities, as many didn’t know their city had such a small shop or such an obscure scenic spot.

It also genuinely helped tourists visiting other cities: if the city had enough users, following its local rankings for dining and sightseeing would guarantee a great experience.

This also affected other poor-quality venues—their businesses would suffer, forcing them to adapt: either improve or lower prices, raising the baseline to some degree.

For companies, it helped job seekers avoid traps. For schools, it gave students useful references. After all, schools had detailed subcategories—majors, teachers, all thoroughly covered.

Of course, Zhenxuan Life couldn’t yet do all this—but reaching that stage wouldn’t take long. Users kept growing, data kept accumulating; only then would evaluations become truly reliable. With a large base, individual biased ratings would be effectively balanced.

Back in Hangzhou, it was after Labor Day.

“Come on, let me raise a glass—to Wang Yan and Qingchun, happy newlyweds!”

In the restaurant, Lin Bai raised his glass, joining Zheng Qiudong and others in toasting Wang Yan and Xiong Qingchun.

Everyone drank heartily together—that was the opening.

Lin Bai’s wife asked: “Yan Ge, Qingchun, aren’t you really holding a wedding?”

Xiong Qingchun shook her head and smiled: “Isn’t this already the wedding?”

“But it’s not in a wedding dress, with so many friends witnessing—it’s not the same.”

“We don’t have many friends—basically everyone’s right here at this table. Sure, there are lots of ‘Directors’ and ‘Managers,’ but what good are they? This is perfect.”

Seeing Lin Bai’s wife look awkward, Xiong Qingchun waved her hand: “Don’t worry—it’s the truth. As Wang Yan says, we’re each other’s only support. This is fine. Honestly, if we held a real wedding, I’d find it annoying—pointless.”

Luo Yiren added from the side: “She’s just imaginative, always out there, living wildly, wildly free.”

Lin Bai laughed at his wife: “You think so? My wife cries all day watching Korean dramas at home.”

“Stop it—you’re making her think more. We’re not that pitiful,” Wang Yan chuckled, then asked, “I’ve been busy with Zhenxuan Life—how’s your business?”

“Yan Ge, we were going to ask you the same,” Zheng Qiudong smiled. “We all use Zhenxuan Life—this restaurant, we booked the private room three days ago. Its power is already clear; investment firms have even approached us. We shareholders still don’t know what’s going on.”

“Registered capital over five million, seventy thousand active users—two months in, it’s preliminarily successful. Now we wait to see how it develops. Don’t dream of getting rich quick—the more users, the higher the operating cost. We’ve taken ads, but ad revenue isn’t enough to sustain the company.”

“Given current progress, we must quickly launch part-time services and send people out to expand local services—earn what we can, or our human resources income won’t hold out much longer.”

“We have no objections—just make the call,” Lin Bai smiled. “Yan Ge, do you need me to come help now?”

“Once part-time services launch, we’ll roll out group buying. Then we’ll truly connect with the market—business will explode.”

“Alright, anytime you need me, just call.”

Wang Yan nodded, then asked: “Tell me about your business—how’s it going? I haven’t paid attention these two months.”

“Definitely stronger than the last two months. Aside from part-time services, our headhunting and staffing business has already hit a million—our foundation is solid. Actually, we’ve got another big job.”

Zheng Qiudong said: “A Hong Kong company—introduced by Qu Minjing—is looking for a finance talent. Salary level similar to Qu Minjing’s. This time it’s not just ten thousand like last time—if we find the right person, the success fee is fifty thousand.”

“Any candidates?”

“We have the perfect candidate—but the situation is tricky.”

This was the original plot—Zheng Qiudong had only recruited a few people in the entire story, and events were limited. Wang Yan, knowingly playing along, asked: “What’s the situation?”

“His name is Chen Xiufeng. Previously… because he had to care for his father, and he’d grown weary over the years, and had already achieved financial freedom, he wanted a long rest—at least until his father passed away. By the way, he was introduced through Yiren.”

“She was my former company’s CFO—her husband is Chen Xiufeng. They both live in Hangzhou, knew I was here, and recently invited us to their house by Xianghu…” Luo Yiren explained the connection, hesitatingly added, “Speaking of finance, Yan Ge…”

Wang Yan waved his hand and smiled: “From your conversation, this couple seems highly refined—clearly competent. But now it seems they want to enjoy life—would she be willing to work again?”

“I haven’t brought it up yet, but she’s restless—after enjoying comfort for so long, she’s bound to get bored. If Yan Ge agrees, I’ll talk to her—I think it won’t be a problem. Plus, she’s a familiar face—we can trust her.”

“Fine. I’m managing finance now because I have no suitable person. Besides, Zhenxuan Life has just gotten on track—work will only increase, and I won’t have time for finance. If this Sister Kui is trustworthy, compatible, and restless, I welcome her. But right now we’re spending a lot—we can’t match her previous salary. You must be clear about that.”

Luo Yiren smiled: “Don’t worry, Yan Ge. If she agrees, she’ll work for free.”

“Then go talk to her first. If she comes, bring Chen Xiufeng too—we’ll have dinner together, get to know each other. Also, ask him face-to-face if he’s interested.”

“Isn’t that too forward—just asking like that?”

“You’re already sitting at the same table—asking casually isn’t forward. If he’s interested, talk more. If not, find someone else—don’t waste time on him.”

Zheng Qiudong nodded. Luo Yiren said: “I’ll go see her tomorrow and find out her thoughts.”

“Anything else? Come on, drink up, eat more—this restaurant’s food really is good…”

No one held back; the group clinked glasses, ate and drank, thoroughly lively…