Chapter 143: Pre-orders Hit 1.2 Million! Could 360 Really Make a Phone?

“327,000 units?”

The next morning, Chen Yansen sat in his office, listened to the marketing department’s report, and nodded in satisfaction.

Pre-selling before Xiaomi was clearly a wise move.

Not only did we steal Xiaomi’s title of “King of Value for Money,” we also trampled on HTC and Shanxing, riding a massive wave of traffic.

“Yesterday’s 12-hour cumulative pre-orders reached 203,000 units; today, up to 9:10 a.m., we sold another 124,000,” added the marketing department employee.

“Alright, got it.” Chen Yansen waved his hand, signaling the man to leave.

Immediately after, Wang Teng walked in, carrying a laptop: “Sen-ge, you wanted me?”

He assumed Chen Yansen wanted an update on development progress and smiled as he asked.

“How’s the feedback on Aurora 1.2?”

Once Wang Teng sat down, Chen Yansen asked.

“Based on user experience reports, the cleanup efficiency is over three times that of the 1.0 algorithm—even on phones with only 512MB RAM, installing AuroraOS dramatically improves smoothness.”

Wang Teng replied with a smile.

“I want to transfer you to marketing. What do you think?”

Chen Yansen responded, then got straight to the point.

“Uh, Sen-ge, I’m a product manager…” Wang Teng instinctively refused—he saw himself as technical staff, unfit for functional department work.

“You’re only 24. Don’t limit your life. Your original background and position don’t matter—what matters is what you’re suited for.”

Chen Yansen ignored Wang Teng’s refusal and pressed on.

But I’ve never done marketing or anything like it—I have zero experience.

Wang Teng grumbled inwardly, looking helpless.

“The marketing department doesn’t have anyone I fully trust to run it—I’m not comfortable leaving it unmonitored, understand?”

Seeing Wang Teng’s resistance, Chen Yansen smiled and explained.

“Can I still handle product development work at the same time?” Wang Teng ventured.

“As long as you can manage it, I don’t mind,” Chen Yansen shrugged indifferently.

“Sen-ge, what about my salary?” Wang Teng grinned, rubbing his fingers together.

“You’ll get the pay of a marketing director. Don’t even think about double pay,” Chen Yansen replied irritably.

“Then I’ll get to work,” Wang Teng took the hint, grinning as he walked out.

He was puzzled—why had Chen Yansen suddenly transferred him to marketing? If he was unhappy with him, the marketing director’s monthly salary was at least 50,000, far higher than his current 30,000.

If he was satisfied, why remove him from a role where he was doing well? Now he was stuck with two jobs—he’d be swamped.

Chen Yansen didn’t care about Wang Teng’s thoughts.

In his view, ten years from now, Lei Bus would place Wang Teng as marketing general manager of Xiaomi and general manager of Redmi—proving Wang Teng had the ability.

But in 2011, Wang Teng was certainly less experienced and capable—but he still had potential in this area.

Leiyi Army could cultivate talent; so could Chen Yansen!

The next day, Orange Phone pre-orders hit 234,000 units!

The third day, Monday, white-collar workers returned to their offices—pre-orders surged past 273,000 units!

Meanwhile.

Cao Dahua and Zuo Hongyu still waited at the Orange Phone factory.

Pre-orders reached 710,000 units; Orange Mall’s shipping schedule was pushed out over a month.

“Hua-ge, did you fix the rear cover assembly flaws?”

In the office, Zuo Hongyu sipped his black tea and asked Cao Dahua.

“The R&D center sent the latest rear cover design yesterday—I had the workshop test it. The uneven gaps are fixed. Now we just wait for Boss Chen’s production order.”

Cao Dahua sipped his tea, bored.

The factory’s several contract manufacturing orders were nearly complete; over 600 employees were about to be given leave, and both men were anxious.

But Chen Yansen was cautious—he insisted on waiting for feedback from over 300 engineering units before approving mass production.

“I don’t know how Chen Zong’s brain works—he makes business look as easy as drinking water. We’ve been in this industry for over a decade, yet he effortlessly outmaneuvers us. Even bosses in Huaqiangbei now want to switch to smartphones.”

Zuo Hongyu sighed, smiling.

A 19-year-old college student, new to the phone industry, sold 710,000 units in just three days.

It made people feel misled—like making smartphones was simple, and they could do it too!

Fueled by this trend, brands like Little Chili, Banana, Little Guava, and Lychee phones were registering, aiming to carve out a share in the “fruit-themed” smartphone market.

They didn’t realize that rushing into this transition would be the final straw that crushed them.

Smartphones seemed simple—just slap on Android, assemble a supply chain, and start production—but the pitfalls in system optimization and hardware design were far greater than those of Shanzhai phones.

“Ding-ding-ding!”

The desk phone suddenly rang!

The two exchanged glances; Zuo Hongyu said, “Hua-ge, you take it!”

“Hello! Got it! Start production immediately!”

Cao Dahua picked up the phone, murmured a few “yeses,” his grin widening until it nearly reached his ears.

“Can we start production?” Zuo Hongyu asked eagerly.

“Tell the production manager to follow the planned schedule—down from production supervisor to team leader, layer by layer!”

Cao Dahua hung up and announced with renewed energy.

Years ago, when he failed in the phone business and fled Shencheng in disgrace, it was because he’d foolishly tried to launch smartphones in 2005—going against the tide, and it ended badly.

The phones he produced sold fewer than 1,200 units before the company collapsed—he lost all his savings and his will to rebuild.

Later, through connections, he joined Xucheng College as a part-time entrepreneurship advisor, spending his days drinking tea and slacking off.

“Finally, we’re on the right track!” Zuo Hongyu beamed and rushed out excitedly.

Soon after, the entire A3 Orange factory received production orders.

First batch: one million units!

For workers, more orders meant more overtime—and higher income.

“Last month I only made 3,500 yuan. Thank goodness I didn’t quit—I stuck it out.”

Li Yunzhu chuckled, glad he’d made the right choice.

In these past forty-plus days at the Orange Phone factory, he’d had the most comfortable days of his working life—meals and lodging provided, cafeteria food decent.

Overtime pay was calculated by the minute, and even weekend overtime followed labor law.

He thought the boss was insane—offering such generous benefits to assembly line workers, how could he possibly make money?

Still, he personally loved this kind of foolish boss—easy work, high pay—who wouldn’t be happy?

Upon receiving the order, the Orange Phone factory immediately started production.

After consulting with Zhang Jing, Cao Dahua launched a second hiring plan, recruiting another 600 workers to max out production capacity.

Suddenly, long lines of job applicants formed again outside the Zhongsha Tech Park gates.

Meanwhile.

Users who received the first batch of engineering units began posting photos and sharing experiences on Orange Community and Weibo.

With flagship-level specs, the performance was strong—mainstream mobile games ran smoothly.

Combined with AuroraOS’s personalized themes, icons, and ringtones, users were thoroughly enjoying it.

For 1,999 yuan, you got a 4.5-inch phone with 1+8GB RAM, an 8-megapixel camera, and a Snapdragon S3 processor—unthinkable!

Any other brand would charge at least 3,999 yuan!

The global gesture interface was initially awkward, but after getting used to it, users found efficiency noticeably improved.

Many also noticed that AuroraOS 1.1’s memory management and junk cleanup were even more effective.

On other phones with the same specs, opening multiple apps caused lag and screen delays—but the Orange Phone showed none.

It automatically cleaned background apps and junk files every 15 minutes, based on user usage patterns.

By day’s end, the phone remained smooth and showed only mild heating.

This was because the Orange Phone’s rear cover used aluminum alloy, paired with a heat spreader, rapidly transferring internal heat to the stainless steel back panel, which then dissipated it into the air.

Greatly improved heat dissipation efficiency!

Of course, the Orange Phone had flaws—the 8-megapixel camera performed poorly, producing low-quality images with slow autofocus.

But given the 1,999 yuan price, users found these flaws entirely acceptable.

Some phone enthusiasts and tech bloggers began paying extra to buy engineering sample units from Orange Community.

Pre-order wait times were at least a week, even a month.

With the Orange Phone trending, to ride the wave, you had to spend money.

Chen Yansen heard this and smiled helplessly—he’d prepared far more thoroughly than Lei Bus, for profit and to keep the torch burning.

The funds he held alone covered material costs for over 500,000 phones; many suppliers settled quarterly, so he faced little financial pressure.

Thus, he didn’t copy Lei Bus’s “scarcity marketing”—he just opened the floodgates.

With the Orange Phone factory’s annual capacity of over five million units, there was no production bottleneck in the early stage.

Still, scalpers emerged—something he hadn’t anticipated.

By the time he departed for Yancheng to attend Xiaomi’s new product launch, Orange Phone pre-orders surpassed 1.2 million, becoming the first hot model of the second half of 2011.

Fox Tao leveraged this to hit 3 billion yuan in August sales, becoming the undisputed leader in China’s guide e-commerce industry.

Even Apple, before launching the iPhone 4S, was evaluating whether to sacrifice some profit margin to use Fox Tao ’s channels to sell their new product in China.

An e-commerce site selling high-priced goods proves its users have extremely high value.

FoxTao’s external valuation continues to rise, though everyone knows it’s riding on the popularity of Orange Phone—yet every transaction is real, impossible to fake.

“Fanke sold 60 million last month on FoxTao. I thought the pricing was too high, but their business team said I didn’t understand the product. No wonder they’ve only hit 2 billion of their 10-billion sales target—they understand the product, but they don’t understand users.”

On the plane, Song Yuncheng muttered under his breath.

“Chen Nian probably isn’t suited for sales,” Chen Yan said coolly.

Fanke succeeded because it rode the e-commerce wave, faced little competition, and had support from the big brother, Leiyi Army.

But in the era when Taobao and Jingdong were ruthlessly expanding, that wouldn’t last.

Gao Weilin sat beside them, fully focused on Le Tian’s reply email.

After learning FoxTao’s monthly sales had broken 3 billion, Le Tian responded with maximum sincerity and planned an on-site inspection.

Gao Weilin finished reading, glanced at his boss, then put on his headphones and watched a movie.

Work matters, but making the boss comfortable matters more.

He wasn’t clueless—after all, he’d been handling Le Tian’s side for months; a brief delay in reporting wouldn’t hurt.

When Lei Zong learned Orange Phone had shattered 1.2 million units in sales, he sucked in a sharp breath.

He understood: Xiaomi would either ride this wind straight to the heavens—or become Orange’s sacrifice, reduced to a footnote.

“This kid’s not fair—he left Xiaomi’s R&D center and started Orange Tech. Tsk, tsk, tsk.”

Zhou Hongyi, sitting across from Lei Zong, shook his head and commented.

“The market’s huge—I can’t stop others from making phones. Fortunately, Chen Yan’s a decent guy. Better to have one more friend than one more enemy. If 360 makes phones, am I going to fight them?”

Lei Zong said generously.

“Really?”

Zhou Hongyi instinctively pressed, and seeing Chen Yan’s massive success, he too began considering entering the phone industry.

A 19-year-old college student, from an industry as unrelated as e-commerce—yet he succeeded. Why couldn’t old Zhou make it?

“...”

Lei Zong stared at Zhou Hongyi, as if judging whether he was serious.

“Old Zhou, you...”

After a long pause, Lei Zong asked.

“Just kidding—you don’t actually believe that, do you?” Zhou Hongyi laughed it off, brushing it aside.

(End of Chapter)