Chapter 124: Just Call It Cheng Zi (Requesting Monthly Votes)

Back in 0418, Meng Jie had already left.

Chen Yansen opened the fridge, where a row of sealed beef soup packs and two bean curd rolls with fried dough sticks were stored.

He took one out, popped it in the microwave for two minutes, took a big bite—it was still salty, fragrant, and crisp.

Chen Yansen sat down beside the sofa, eating while opening his laptop, checking the project group messages first, then scanning the sales data from the past three days.

Daily active users: 2.8 million; daily orders exceeded 500,000; single-day sales broke the 30-million mark, a 20% increase compared to April.

“Looks like we won’t have to wait until June—FoxTao’s monthly sales will hit a billion.” Chen Yansen finished the bean curd roll in a few bites and muttered under his breath.

Once the Aurora system’s test version launches, I’ll need to start hiring talent in hardware and industrial design; using FoxTao’s resources then won’t be appropriate.

Including the OS development team, we’ll have at least a hundred people—labor costs might even exceed FoxTao’s.

Penguin, Siwei, and IDG Venture Capital, no matter how slow, will notice Chen Yansen’s small moves.

Fuck!

Still short on money!

Chen Yansen frowned, thought for a moment, then decided to sell part of his equity—compared to the phone industry, guide e-commerce gave him too little Humanitarian Flame Value.

Once he figured it out, Chen Yansen planned to leak the news tomorrow and see if any fools would bite.

He knew clearly that once Ali and JD went public and their stock prices stabilized, they’d come after FoxTao; after that, earning comfortably would be nearly impossible.

After reading at home all afternoon, Chen Yansen invited Meng Jie out for dinner, then sat with her on a stone bench by Pearl Lake for a while.

The early summer breeze blew gently.

On the way back, Meng Jie said she wanted to watch a movie in 0418; Chen Yansen smiled, made up a flimsy excuse, and sent her back to her dorm.

He and Song Yuncheng still had design tasks to finish—he couldn’t let Meng Jie interrupt him.

After seeing Meng Jie off, Chen Yansen walked home alone.

Just reaching the fourth floor, he saw Song Yuncheng holding her laptop, peering out at the door.

“Don’t you have a key?” Chen Yansen walked over, smiling.

“I just got here, about to unlock the door,” Song Yuncheng retorted, lifting her chin.

“Really?” Chen Yansen smirked, not believing a word.

He opened the door and walked straight to the bedroom.

“Let’s get this straight—we’re only talking about work,” Song Yuncheng hurriedly reminded him.

“I’m just getting my laptop—what are you thinking?” Chen Yansen turned, face full of disgust.

“Oh.” Song Yuncheng lost her edge, sat down at the dining table.

She hadn’t been to 0418 in a while; her eyes wandered around—this was where she’d completed FoxTao’s practical interview, started with design, later handled operations and customer service, and finally moved to the major client acquisition department.

These past six months felt like a dream.

Chen Yansen had been the lifeline she grabbed while drowning, pulling her ashore.

No!

A straw was too thin—Chen Yansen was more like a wooden pole that saved her.

Thinking of this, Song Yuncheng blushed, smiled faintly, and let out a quiet laugh.

“Move over a bit.”

Chen Yansen carried his laptop, nudged Song Yuncheng with his hip, and sat down to her right.

“There’s plenty of space over there!” Song Yuncheng snapped back, pushing Chen Yansen toward the table corner.

*Pop!*

Chen Yansen leaned down and kissed her lips, forcibly shoving Song Yuncheng to his left.

“Didn’t we agree to only talk about work?” Song Yuncheng wiped her mouth, angrily demanding.

“Did I promise that?” Chen Yansen countered with a smile.

“Do you know what Wang Teng’s team is working on every day?” Chen Yansen dropped his smile, asking seriously.

“Hmm, I heard from Xu Dan—they’re developing FoxTao’s mobile app. Why ask?”

Song Yuncheng answered instinctively, confused.

“They’re developing a mobile operating system,” Chen Yansen shook his head, speaking honestly.

Few people at FoxTao knew about the Aurora development team’s work—now there was one more.

“Mobile operating system?” Song Yuncheng froze, her mind not catching up—in her view, FoxTao’s business had nothing to do with mobile OS.

“I plan to enter the phone industry, but it’s still early days—so I need you to design a brand logo.”

Chen Yansen spoke seriously, then added: “Keep this to yourself—don’t go blabbing.”

“Got it. So what’s the product called?”

Song Yuncheng, realizing Chen Yansen truly wanted her to design, felt a sudden pang of disappointment.

“Not decided yet,” Chen Yansen shook his head, utterly honest.

He’d thought of many names—banana, strawberry, rice—easy to say, down-to-earth, making users feel they could afford it.

He’d also considered names like Lingxi, Shunying, Huanjie—but found them too awkward.

He felt someone like Song Yuncheng, who had little contact with the phone industry, might come up with a name more appealing to the masses.

“????”

Song Yuncheng was baffled, helplessly smiling: “Boss, if you don’t even have a name, how am I supposed to design?”

“You know I’m your boss? I hired you to work—do you expect me to think of everything? What’s the point of you then?”

Chen Yansen instantly put on the vile face of a capitalist, leaned back in his chair, and became a hands-off boss.

Song Yuncheng rolled her eyes, stared at the screen, scoured the market for phone brand names, and tentatively asked: “How about Star Shine? Sounds high-end.”

“I need something down-to-earth—something users instantly feel they can afford,” Chen Yansen snapped.

“How about Xiao Mai? A jin costs nine mao—cheaper than a bottle of mineral water.”

Song Yuncheng offered a new suggestion based on her upbringing.

Chen Yansen shook his head—Xiao Mi was already there; Xiao Mai right after would be too obvious a copy.

“Xiao La Jiao? Xiao Ping Guo? Xiao Tu Gou? Xiao Mian Bao? Xiao Hua Sheng?” Song Yuncheng continued.

*Thump!*

Chen Yansen raised his hand and gave Song Yuncheng a hard knock on the head: “Use your brain.”

“What if I use my nickname? Call it Xiao Cheng Zi?” Song Yuncheng, still stinging from the hit, dared not retaliate, so she kept guessing.

“Xiao Cheng Zi? Sounds okay. Three syllables are too long—cut it to two: just call it Cheng Zi.”

Hearing “Xiao Cheng Zi,” Chen Yansen suddenly became interested—years later, this thing would be mass-produced, prices dropping to 9.9 yuan for five jin, no pricier than Xiao Mai.

“Cheng Zi? Apple? Won’t people accuse you of plagiarism?”

Song Yuncheng kindly warned.

“When my shipment volume and sales exceed Apple’s, it’ll be them copying me.”

Chen Yansen spoke confidently.

“Fine, I’ll try,” Song Yuncheng, worn down by Chen Yansen’s audacity, smiled and opened CorelDRAW, sketching an orange outline, then adding two leaves.

“Remove one leaf—keep only one. See how it looks.”

Chen Yansen placed his hand on Song Yuncheng’s shoulder, glanced at the logo draft, and immediately said: “Not satisfied.”

“Okay,” Song Yuncheng obeyed, deleting the left leaf.

“Looks a bit like Apple,” Chen Yansen murmured, stroking his chin.

“Then keep the left leaf?” Song Yuncheng asked, quickly adjusting.

“Hmm, now it’s better. Go back, tweak it, and send me three versions by email.”

Chen Yansen nodded in satisfaction, instructing Song Yuncheng.

“Alright, I’m leaving,” Song Yuncheng packed up her laptop, eager to get out.

“It’s still early—let’s watch a movie. I just bought a projector—help me test the clarity.”

Chen Yansen pointed to the projector beside the sofa, smiling.

“Next time,” Song Yuncheng smiled faintly, lips pressed together—Chen Yansen was clearly just trying to take advantage, using projector testing as an excuse.

Her dorm mates had all returned to campus—she didn’t want to explain tomorrow where she’d been tonight.

Seeing she wouldn’t bite, Chen Yansen didn’t press—he pulled Song Yuncheng into his arms, playing with her like a doll, until her face turned bright red, then let her go.

He checked the time—just past eight. He picked up the stack of books by the door and walked into the bedroom.

Leaving the teacher’s apartment, Song Yuncheng walked home, cheeks still flushed, smiling as she thought of Chen Yansen naming the new product after her nickname—her steps light and quick.

(End of Chapter)