Chapter 376: Nobody Is Smarter Than Anyone Else

A small conference room, bright and spacious, with a long rectangular table running across it, the attendees seated on either side.

Chen Tianqiao waved his hand and said, "Don't even mention it—let's just get down to business!"

Right now he had no mind to talk about the suffering he had endured; problems of every kind had worn him to the bone, and the more he said, the more it was just tears.

In this era, every industry is the same—constant struggle. If you go into the mobile-phone business, it's even more brutal than this.

That really is a you-die-I-live situation.

How did Meizu decline? Its technology was copied, its talent drained away, its capital chain snapped—capital struggle is exactly this cruel.

In a great rolling world like this, Fang Hong had to tread carefully and keep his sense of crisis; otherwise, in this fragile present, it would be very easy for someone to finish him off.

Only by weathering wave after wave can one stand firm.

Actually, at its core, starting a business is survival—as long as you can keep surviving, you are successful.

Clearly, Shanda cannot survive; it is destined to be swept into the trash heap and capsized by the great waves.

This round of negotiation revolved around the acquisition price. Fang Hong was clearly unwilling to accept the previous offer of 5.5 billion—the price was too high.

"Mr. Chen, we've assessed the current value of Shengda Literature, and 4.5 billion is the reasonable price." The one speaking was Gao Zhun.

She went through the motions of flipping open the materials in front of her, though there was really nothing of substance in them.

In any case, it was about driving the price down—the price could not exceed five billion; anything over five billion was not worth it.

"Previously, an analyst at a fund under Orbis analyzed Shengda Literature's valuation at 800 million dollars. I quoted General Manager Fang 5.5 billion—that's a billion less, which already shows plenty of sincerity. Your price-cutting here is way too outrageous." said Chen Tianqiao.

"Then do you think anyone on the market would pay more than five billion? If I remember right, that was back in 2011, wasn't it? At the very start the valuation was over a billion dollars, and you planned to raise 200 million dollars through an IPO.

But Wall Street investment institutions collectively took a bearish view, considering that price tag too high, and the listing was blocked.

And the 200 million dollars you raised was partly used to repay loans from your Shanda Network, wasn't it!"

Fang Hong laid out their situation at the time plainly—valuation and true value are two entirely different things.

And times have changed; bringing up something from two years ago and applying it to the present is clearly unreasonable.

The other side fell silent—this wasn't exactly a secret.

"In 2012 you restarted your listing plan. By then the window for Chinese concept stocks had closed for United States investors, and analysts were full of doubts about Chinese companies raising funds, which caused Shengda Literature's valuation to drop. Only a fund under Orbis bought 15 million shares, at a valuation of 800 million dollars. Am I right?"

Last year's financial-fraud scandal and market manipulation led to more than 130 companies being placed on the Blacklist by the United States SEC, and over a dozen United States-listed companies were suspended or delisted.

The incident blew up big, causing concept-stock companies on this side to all be affected, with their valuations all revised downward.

Fang Hong said again, "The reason Shengda Literature has never been able to list is that its value has been priced too high. You think it's worth 800 million dollars, but the institutions don't think it's worth that much."

Chen Tianqiao and the others fell silent once more—the Principal was right about everything. Shengda Literature's repeated listing setbacks meant it had never been able to realize the value it should have.

Add to that severe internal and external troubles, and its value had been consistently underestimated—valuation is valuation, value is value.

"In my view, what allowed Shengda Literature to develop was the author-training mechanism of its founding team back then, plus your first-mover advantage. The history is long enough that it has built up a brand advantage."

Qidian was founded in 2002—over ten years ago now—longer than many proper companies have been around.

Fang Hong went on, "But the challenge Shengda Literature now faces is led by Baidu and Tencent. When facing a mobile-channel king like WeChat, which has hundreds of millions of users, it will gradually lose its position as the hegemon of online literature.

On the surface Shengda Literature holds over 70% of the online-literature market share, but by channel and revenue, China Mobile has 2 billion, Tencent, Baidu and the rest combined have 2 billion, and Shengda Literature only has 1 billion—it no longer holds a leading position.

On top of that, once mobile apps have a massive user base, they gain control over the upstream authors of online literature. If Shengda Literature stays in your hands, it's doomed to perish."

Mobile literature is very powerful nowadays—even if you've never used it, you must have heard of it.

"General Manager Fang is being alarmist." Chen Tianqiao's confidence couldn't help but weaken a few notches.

He hadn't expected the Principal to have them figured out so clearly.

And they truly had neither the ability to run Shengda Literature nor the ability to face external challenges. Even the parent company was a complete mess, with every sector being endlessly suppressed and squeezed.

The games they relied on for survival had been beaten to pieces by game makers like Tencent, Pig Factory, and Perfect World.

Let alone having any channel to inject vitality into Shengda Literature—even the operating team had drifted apart and scattered. If Shengda Literature isn't sold now, it dies.

"I am absolutely not being alarmist. All of this is predictable, and all of it is visible. As long as your opponents don't make mistakes, your Shengda Literature is destined to be swept into the trash heap, and at that point it won't be worth a cent." Fang Hong said it without a flicker on his face.

Zhang Lidong couldn't help but glance at him—the Principal now was a completely different person, no longer like before, as if weighed down by many concerns and appearing very mild-mannered.

Toward them, in his dealings, he had always come across as quite polite.

Before, that was because Fang Hong had taken these "big shots" too seriously; now he had adjusted his mindset and regarded them with an ordinary heart.

They're all just people—nobody is smarter than anyone else. If everyone were absolutely brilliant, then how did ByteDance rise under Tencent's suppression instead of being crushed early on?

How did Pinduoduo and JD. com rise in the cracks between Alibaba? How did miHoYo rise while being besieged by Pig Factory and Tencent?

Why has Shein's cross-border e-commerce become impossible to replicate?

They all have top-tier leadership and think tanks, yet at a time when people thought the internet had been carved up entirely by BAT, there were those who could rise right under their noses and even stand as equals against them.

This shows that people are all the same. Even if they have think tanks, they don't have absolutely far-sighted vision to see the future, nor absolute wisdom to turn others' ideas into their own.

They simply have, within their own professional fields, technical abilities beyond the ordinary, and broader horizons—that's all.

As for horizons—that thing, you have to reach a certain level before you can see it. It isn't about how many books you've read or how much you've experienced.

There are plenty of people in their seventies or eighties who are still ignorant.

"I've toiled half my life, and in the Principal's eyes I'm this pathetic—truly laughable." Chen Tianqiao glanced at his wife and gave a bitter smile.

Chen Tianqiao's wife, Luo Qianqian, showed a hint of indignation. She looked across and said, "If that's the case, then why does the Principal still want to buy our Shengda Literature? Just let it perish."

"Because only in my hands can Shengda Literature realize the value it ought to have." Fang Hong's expression didn't change.

"We won't sell to you, and there's nothing you can do about it." said Luo Qianqian.

"If you won't sell to us, then we'll just have to do it ourselves, and when that happens we'll still be your competitor." That line came from Zhang Lidong.

"We can sell to someone else." said Luo Qianqian.

"Setting aside whether anyone even wants it, let's talk about whether anyone can match the price we're offering." said Fang Hong.

That remark silenced the other side. Indeed, very few people could take it, and even fewer could match their price.

Unless the buyer was at the BAT level.

Capital doesn't want it, because capital only wants to make money—if no one runs it, it's useless to them even if they get it.

"I have great confidence in Shengda Literature, and I'm truly sincere—otherwise I wouldn't have come back again and again to negotiate with you. Please, General Manager Chen, rest assured: Shengda Literature is only suitable for sale to me." Fang Hong's voice softened slightly. Chen Tianqiao nodded; indeed, they had been negotiating for half a year, all centered on the acquisition of Shengda Literature.

Now they were finally discussing the acquisition price.

He wasn't angry about what had just been said—business negotiations were always like this, and he had no emotional attachment to Shengda Literature anyway.

He had acquired and integrated it himself.

"If Shengda Literature is sold to you, how soon will you settle the payment?" Chen Tianqiao asked.

"All payments will be settled by December 31st," Fang Hong said.

That meant clearing the entire acquisition amount within the year.

That was acceptable. Chen Tianqiao nodded: "To be honest with you, the starting point of Shengda Literature, along with other shareholders, includes Wu Wenfei's team holding a total of 8.8%. If you truly acquire Shengda Literature, I ask you to agree to one condition."

"What condition?" Fang Hong asked.

The Wu Wenfei team he mentioned consisted of the founders of Qidian: Wu Wenfei, Shang Xuesong, Lin Tingfeng, Hou Qingchen, and Luo Li.

They were the founders; owning shares was normal, and Fang Hong didn't find it strange.

Moreover, when he acquired Shengda Literature, he would have to notify them, inform them that ownership had changed, and that they were selling their shares to him.

They could either resign from Tencent and continue managing operations here, or do whatever they preferred.

"The condition is: do not hire Wu Wenfei's team. That's my requirement," Chen Tianqiao said.

Fang Hong was startled: "Is there that much hatred between you?"

If there was that much hatred, why in his past life did they sell Shengda Literature to Tencent?

Today, Wu Wenfei's team was at Tencent, working with Cheng Wu to run Genesis Chinese Network.

Cheng Wu was later the Chief Executive Officer of China Literature, and the driving force behind Tencent's broad entertainment sector—managing anime, literature, film, esports, and other general entertainment industries.

He could be called Fang Hong's rival and competitor.

"You don't understand. Will you agree to this condition?" Chen Tianqiao asked.

"I agree," Fang Hong nodded without hesitation.

He guessed that in his past life, they had been forced into selling to Tencent; now, in this timeline, they were clearly enemies.

"Alright, let's discuss the specific price back at the office. We'll talk again next time." Chen Tianqiao stood up and shook hands with the three men across the table.

The three men saw them out. After they had walked far away, Zhang Lidong asked Fang Hong as they walked back: "If we acquire Shengda Literature, those people will find out. Are you really not going to hire any of them?"

"I was just saying that," Fang Hong said lightly.

"Huh?!" Zhang Lidong was confused.

"Once Shengda Literature is mine, who are they to tell me who to hire? That's overstepping," Fang Hong said with authority.

Zhang Lidong was stunned. You promised someone something to their face, then reneged behind their back? That was too pragmatic, too disrespectful of rules.

"If we took every demand seriously and let them lead us by the nose, if we stuck too rigidly to rules, we'd still be dragging this out for another half year. During that time, any unexpected event could slip beyond our control. So we must cut through the chaos with a swift blade and focus our energy on development. This matter has already consumed too much of our attention," Fang Hong said.

Shengda Literature certainly had more than one potential buyer. Wu Wenfei had long been pushing Tencent to acquire Shengda Literature and retake control of Qidian.

Zhang Lidong nodded silently. They truly shouldn't waste too much energy on this.

If you're going to acquire, do it quickly—don't delay. Delaying invites unforeseen complications.

Fang Hong was right. Rumors had it that Chang'e Technology was trying to acquire Shengda Literature. Wu Wenfei grew restless and immediately requested a meeting with Liu Zhiping—the President of Tencent's Investment Division.

The same man who had invested in Tu Piaopiao, the one who had been so arrogant toward Fang Hong.

Wu Wenfei wanted Liu Zhiping to tell Tony Ma: don't wait any longer—acquire Shengda Literature before Chang'e Technology does.

After hearing this, Liu Zhiping went to knock on Tony Ma's office door.

Tony Ma, wearing gold-rimmed glasses, looked dignified and refined. After listening to Liu Zhiping's report, he frowned in confusion: "Where did Chang'e Technology come from?"

"It was just established. The boss used to make movies—he's the Principal of Yutu. We even invested in their Tu Piaopiao," Liu Zhiping said.

"Oh!"

Mentioning Yutu, Tony Ma now had some recollection—Yutu had considerable fame in the film industry.

Even those not following that circle had heard of the company, given its fierce rivalry with Huayi and Bona.

Moreover, they held shares in Huayi; entering the film industry had always been one of Tencent's core strategies.

So Yutu was one of their monitored entities.

Chang'e Technology was too low-key; few outside the industry had heard of it.

"I remember—they made a game called Hero Glory, which pushed our League of Legends out of the market," Tony Ma said, legs crossed, voice flat, emotionless.

He still remembered this. Internally, they'd held a major meeting to reflect on why they couldn't beat Hero Glory.

What was there to reflect on? The current version of League of Legends offered nothing but paid Skins.

The rewards from a single match were pitiful—barely enough to let you experience the game.

Hero Glory awarded fragments for ranked matches, which could be combined into Skins; it gave coins for casual matches, which could buy heroes.

As long as you put in effort, you could enjoy the same Skins that rich players had, and they partnered with internet cafes to offer free Skins—completely different player treatment.

Tencent was harvesting retail investors; Chang'e was stabilizing the market.

Hero Glory offered a better experience: everyone started equal, you could jump right in, no need to accumulate runes or anything—this was the difference.

To win, you just treated players like humans. No secret formula.

"Yes," Liu Zhiping nodded. He had once tried to acquire them too, but they refused.

"That's interesting," Tony Ma smiled.

Liu Zhiping smiled too—contemptuously, not taking the opponent seriously at all.

"Then go see how much they're offering. We'll outbid them by five hundred million," Tony Ma held up five fingers, not even asking the other side's price.

"Understood," Liu Zhiping nodded.

No need for further discussion—just crush them with money. That's always how they played, and it never failed.

Was there any problem money couldn't solve?

(End of Chapter)