Chapter 131: Old Ma, You Have No Money, So We Have Nothing to Talk About

The next morning, the three arrived at the airport and flew directly to Yancheng.

Gao Weilin held his iPad2, spending the entire journey familiarizing himself with FoxTao’s operations and financial data.

Before departure, Chen Yansen told him the purpose of this trip: to establish contacts with Sequoia, Today, DST, and Tiger Capital to find potential buyers for FoxTao.

After landing, the three headed straight to the Wanda Sofitel Hotel.

They arrived precisely at 10:30 a.m., making them among the last to show up.

Chen Yansen led the two into the conference hall and sat down, glancing left and right—he recognized few people.

He was seated in the third row.

The first row held joint founders of several venture capital firms, along with Liu Zhiping, Ma Liyun, Lei Yijun, Li Yanhong, and Liu Qiangdong, plus a few others Chen Yansen didn’t know.

Zhou Hongyi beamed with confidence, speaking confidently on stage.

Clearly, the psychological shadow left by the 3Q War had long vanished.

The fact that Ma Wenteng sent Liu Zhiping to this networking event showed that in business, there were no permanent enemies.

After Zhou Hongyi finished speaking, the host invited Ma Liyun, Liu Qiangdong, and Lei Yijun onstage to share their business models.

At this point, Lei Yijun hadn’t even released his Xiaomi phone; though his achievements at Kingsoft allowed him to sit alongside Hangcheng’s e-commerce Ma and Yancheng’s Pretty Boy Dong, he appeared unusually humble.

He first praised both companies’ e-commerce models for their strengths, then briefly outlined MIUI’s features before handing the mic to Liu Qiangdong.

Liu Qiangdong had risen through grassroots competition, his hometown accent thick; facing the camera, he smiled as he explained JD’s asset-heavy procurement and sales model, insisting this was the only correct way to run e-commerce.

His implication: Taobao, as a middleman platform, was no different from guide e-commerce—it created no additional jobs or sales, merely acting as a traffic relay station.

This made Ma Liyun deeply uneasy, though he showed no sign of it.

When it was his turn to speak, Ma Liyun said lightly: “Just now, Liu Qiangdong said the competition between JD and Alibaba is fierce—I don’t quite agree.”

Ma Liyun paused, glanced at Liu Qiangdong, then continued: “Alibaba’s mission is to cultivate more JDs. In business model, Taobao has always walked the most correct path...”

Liu Qiangdong frowned tightly—he’d known since learning Taobao planned a major promotion on June 18 that competition between them was inevitable.

But Ma’s words clearly looked down on him, dripping with arrogance.

What did he mean, Alibaba’s mission was to cultivate more JDs?

So you think JD isn’t worthy of competing with you?

Are we not on the same level?

Liu Qiangdong’s face darkened—he decided to call an emergency meeting with all procurement and sales managers after the event and strike back during Double Eleven.

With funding secured, he wasn’t short on cash and naturally had the confidence to wage a price war against Taobao.

Chen Yansen smiled faintly from below the stage—this decade-long e-commerce war was about to begin.

Too bad, before either side could claim victory, Huang Zheng arrived with his Pinduoduo and forced both into steady retreat.

This Internet Open Conference had two goals: first, Old Zhou wanted to promote 360’s open initiative by launching products like 360 Security Desktop, Software Manager, and Secure Browser; second, to foster cross-industry business cooperation.

In plain terms, Old Zhou first wanted to show off, then find partnership opportunities to boost 360’s profitability.

Founders from group buying, e-commerce, gaming, software, and mobile apps had also come in large numbers, most chatting quietly.

The tension between Old Ma and Liu Qiangdong wasn’t yet intense, but the group-buying table glared at everyone—just not throwing punches showed restraint.

After all, over the past month, these companies had bought fake news to smear each other, poached staff, and even had their ground teams engage in physical brawls—their relations were openly hostile.

The morning session lasted two hours, then moved to lunch.

Old Zhou seemed stingy, but the banquet dishes were decent.

Chen Yansen pulled Song Yuncheng to sit down, buried his head in eating for a while, rested briefly, then took Gao Weilin around to greet people.

Though his net worth wasn’t top-tier here, he knew many big names.

Tencent’s Liu Zhiping and Alibaba’s Zhang Yong both treated him with respect and introduced him to the Asia directors of DST and Tiger Capital.

“Mr. Chen, Mr. Ma is over there and wants to talk to you.”

After Chen Yansen finished chatting with them, Zhang Yong stepped forward and whispered.

“Dylan, help me keep Martin company with a few more drinks.”

Chen Yansen patted Gao Weilin’s shoulder and pushed him toward Tencent and several venture capital heavyweights.

Gao Weilin looked calm as an old dog, but inside he was panicking—he’d been on the mainland less than a week and already met so many big names.

These men before him each had hundreds of billions in net worth—several times richer than the boss of ZhaoYe—every one a priceless resource and connection.

At this moment, Gao Weilin knew he’d chosen the right boss and decided to resign upon returning.

“Please sit!”

Ma Liyun saw Zhang Yong leading Chen Yansen over and greeted him with a smile.

He still felt some gratitude toward Chen Yansen—without Chen’s example, he wouldn’t have known how to handle ZhiFuBao’s ownership issue.

“Mr. Ma, hello.” Chen Yansen sat down with a smile and greeted him warmly.

In his past life, he’d met Old Ma at Alibaba’s live-streaming e-commerce summit, but back then Alibaba’s business had stalled, squeezed between JD and Pinduoduo, and Old Ma was a shadow of his former self, clearly declining.

But the Ma Liyun before him had bright eyes and full energy, busily preparing Alibaba for its IPO and riding high in e-commerce—otherwise he wouldn’t have dared say, “Alibaba’s mission is to cultivate more JDs.”

Ma Liyun’s words were arrogant, but in 2011, he truly had the capital to say them.

“How was FoxTao’s performance in May?” Ma Liyun asked casually.

Oh, so he really sees himself as the industry overlord?

Chen Yansen sneered inwardly but stayed silent—he still considered Alibaba the most suitable buyer candidate for FoxTao.

“As of yesterday’s midnight, cumulative sales reached 1.07 billion.” Chen Yansen replied just as calmly.

“So you’re aiming for 1.5 billion in June?” Ma Liyun was stunned.

Remember, YiHaodian and Vancl hadn’t reached this level.

Chen Nian’s slogans were loud, but Q1 sales were only 800 million—still far from the 10-billion target.

“It’s challenging, but there’s a 70–80% chance we’ll hit it,” Chen Yansen said seriously.

Ma Liyun laughed, finding it interesting—he admired young, confident people like Chen Yansen.

“What do you think of Yitao?” Ma Liyun paused, then asked about his own guide e-commerce product.

“Great potential. Backed by Alibaba, you lack neither traffic nor merchants—just need a breakthrough moment.”

Chen Yansen lied shamelessly, blowing smoke.

Inside, he thought: What could Yitao do? After over a decade, it was still half-dead, and most e-commerce users had never even heard its name.

Alibaba doing guide e-commerce was like Tencent trying e-commerce—repeated failures.

Destined to fail!

Even after 2016, when Alibaba, JD, and Suning jointly crushed guide e-commerce by restricting rebate sites through alliance policies—

For example, sales generated via Meilishuo or Mogujie didn’t count toward sales weight, only as sales figures, while Yitao referrals did count—

Guide e-commerce was nearly killed, yet Yitao still never took off.

“Young people won’t speak the truth?” Ma Liyun smiled—he knew Yitao’s condition inside out.

“Truth is often unwelcome,” Chen Yansen replied with a smile.

Ma Liyun understood—the man didn’t believe in Yitao’s prospects.

He didn’t press further, raised his glass to clink with Chen Yansen, then after a moment of silence asked: “Interested in joining Alibaba? I can hand you charge of Juhuasuan and Yitao.”

“FoxTao merging into Alibaba?” Chen Yansen asked.

“Yes. FoxTao employees can re-sign contracts—I’ll take them all,” Ma Liyun agreed readily.

Chen Yansen knew the rank and pay for the Juhuasuan head—at least vice president M6 or P11 level, with a 3-million-yuan annual salary plus 30,000–50,000 shares.

Totaling roughly 33–53 million yuan, paid out over four years, averaging 10 million per year.

“What price are you offering, Mr. Ma?” Chen Yansen compared internally—he still thought Little Ma was more generous, offering 200-million-yuan equity outright, with annual income starting at 50 million.

No wonder even Zhang Xiaolong, the father of WeChat, couldn’t resist and joined Tencent.

Little Ma offered too much!

At this point, Alibaba hadn’t gone public yet, revenue hadn’t peaked, and funds were tight—naturally inferior to Tencent.

Only three years later, when Alibaba, backing Didi’s ride-hailing, fought Uber to a bloody standstill and burned over a billion in subsidies, did it truly emerge as a giant.

After its IPO, Alibaba’s market cap soared past 200 billion U.S. dollars; only then, as it aggressively acquired other companies domestically, did ordinary people realize:

Alibaba, this e-commerce leviathan, was truly formidable!

“How about exchanging equity in Alibaba or ZhiFuBao for yours? If you prefer cash, we can combine cash and equity payment.”

As soon as Ma Liyun finished the first half, seeing Chen Yansen frown, he quickly added the second half.

Damn it! All this time, he just didn’t want to spend cash!

Chen Yansen cursed inwardly.

Honestly, if he weren’t rushing into the mobile industry and expanding into other sectors, he’d likely have accepted Ma Liyun’s offer.

After all, in two or three years when Alibaba went public, he could become a billionaire too.

But he didn’t want to wait—and he was too lazy to wait.

Chen Yansen smiled and shook his head, saying nothing—this gesture was clearly a refusal.

“Mr. Chen, do you disagree with equity exchange, or with joining Alibaba?” Ma Liyun pressed.

“Mr. Ma, personally I’d love to join Alibaba—but equity exchange is out. If you want to buy me out with cash, I’m very willing.”

Chen Yansen said with a smile.

Ma Liyun sighed helplessly—equity exchange was already his maximum concession; cash payment wasn’t that he didn’t want to pay, but that he simply didn’t have the money.

Though Alibaba held over 50% of the e-commerce market in 2011, all his funds were reserved to repurchase Yahoo’s shares.

He’d calmed Yang Zhiyuan regarding ZhiFuBao’s ownership transfer, but Yahoo’s U.S. investors weren’t happy—they sued him for illegal operations.

To appease them, he’d promised that upon Alibaba’s IPO, he’d give these investors a one-time cash payout—economic compensation.

So there was no money to buy Foxiao with cash.

After being rejected, Ma Liyun immediately conceived the idea of suppressing Foxiao, but then he thought: if Chen Yansen turned to support Jingdong instead, the balance would shift and hurt Ali’s future stock price.

Within a few breaths, Ma Liyun forced himself to hold back, put on a smile, and began chatting with Chen Yansen about the landscape of guide e-commerce.

Chen Yansen squinted at Ma Liyun, seeing the earlier look of deep thought on his face—he suspected ill intent.

But he didn’t care; before Alibaba’s IPO, Ma Liyun would never strike at Foxiao—suppressing guided e-commerce would be like cutting flesh from his own body.

Old Ma wouldn’t do something so stupid!

(End of Chapter)