Chapter 217: Zhang Zhaoyang, Who Lost 60 Billion U.S. Dollars: You Think I

At 3 p. ., East Gate Five of Chaoyang Park.

Lei Yijun was just about to get out of the car when Li Wanqiang reached out to stop him: "Lei Zong, there seem to be reporters over there."

At the entrance, a crowd stood thickly, necklaces of press credentials dangling, cameras in hand, video recorders slung over shoulders, all waiting for Zhou Hongyi and Lei Yijun to appear.

The heat was there, but whether the outcome would be good or bad for Xiaomi and 360, no one could tell.

"If we get out now, the reporters will swarm us," Li Wanqiang frowned, whispering a warning.

For a moment, Lei Yijun was caught between advance and retreat—he hadn't expected so many media outlets to show up. Now, not only could he not act, but even a harsh word would be posted online.

"When you came earlier to scout the location and plan your escape route, didn't you see these people?"

Lei Yijun scratched his head and asked Li Wanqiang.

"Lei Zong, I got here around five this morning. Back then, only a few old men were doing morning exercises." Li Wanqiang gave a sheepish smile and confessed honestly.

"Don't get out yet. Let's see if Zhou Hongyi dares to show up!" Lei Yijun paused, then came up with a compromise.

What he didn't know was that Zhou Hongyi was sitting in a Maybach, just thirty meters away from Lei Yijun's car.

One was at the northern intersection of East Gate Five, the other at the southern intersection.

"Zhou Zong, it's 3: 0. Lei Yijun hasn't arrived," Zhou Hongyi's assistant said, lowering his binoculars after watching through the window for over ten seconds.

"Fucking coward, only knows how to talk big!"

Zhou Hongyi sneered, pulled out his phone, and sent a mocking text: "I'm here. Where are you? If you're scared, go apologize to me on Weibo."

"I'm here too. Where are you?"

Lei Yijun replied quickly.

Zhou Hongyi froze, snatched the binoculars from his assistant, stared at the entrance for a moment—the reporters were all clustered at the gate, waiting. Lei Yijun was clearly bluffing.

Still, he'd finally grasped the situation: even if Lei Yijun did show up, all they'd do is exchange insults. Would they really fight in front of everyone?

Zhou Hongyi instantly regretted it—he should never have posted the time and location online. Why not just beat Lei Yijun up directly?

The two continued trading insults via text, satisfying themselves, but the reporters and netizens waiting at the gate were furious.

It was freezing winter—standing outside was pure torture.

Who the hell would come here to freeze their ass off unless it was for Zhou Hongyi and Lei Yijun's fight?

"These two are real pieces of shit. They stirred up the hype and then left us hanging!"

"Oh my god, isn't that the truth! Yelling loud online, but neither shows up. Let's go home!"

"I'm going to curse those bastards on Weibo!"

The netizens and reporters, already impatient, saw it was nearly 3: 0—and not a single soul appeared.

They finally realized they'd been played by Zhou Hongyi and Lei Yijun.

"@Zhou Hongyi @Lei Yijun, gentlemen, the audience is here. Where are you two?"

"It's freezing out here. Are you two playing with your dad?"

"@Lei Yijun Lei Zong, if you dare show up, I'll buy ten Xiaomi phones to support you!"

"@Zhou Hongyi, if you don't show up, I'm refunding my Haier W910 order!"

Their comment sections were packed with spectators eager for chaos, desperate to fan the flames and make sure the fight actually happened.

At that moment, three Police Inspector vehicles rolled up slowly.

They stopped in front of the reporters and netizens, and several officers with shoulder insignias stepped out, faces grim: "Break it up. No loitering here."

Meanwhile,

Zhou Hongyi and Lei Yijun each received a call, instantly being scolded into silence, then nodding repeatedly as they ordered their drivers to leave Chaoyang Park.

The Ministry of Industry and Information Technology Association and the China Internet Association had originally planned to host the 11th Internet Conference in September and were now drafting the guest list, which included overseas giants like Google, Microsoft, Qualcomm, and Kaspersky.

If left unchecked, Zhou Hongyi and Lei Yijun's antics would destroy the image of Chinese entrepreneurs entirely.

What's the difference between them and street thugs?

They didn't care about losing face, but the big bosses above still had dignity to preserve!

"Zhou Zong, the car ahead—that looks like Lei Yijun's."

Zhou Hongyi's assistant pointed to a BMW business vehicle ahead.

"So he didn't get out either. No wonder he's called 'Lei the Unyielding!'"

Zhou Hongyi squinted, silently evaluating.

Thinking of it, he sent Lei Yijun another text, choosing a boxing club as their meeting spot.

He was going to beat Lei Yijun—no matter who came.

On the other side,

Chen Yan was resting at the hotel. Around 4: 0 p. ., he received a call from Liu Zhiping, inviting him to dinner at Jingzhao Yin.

Along with Liu Zhiping and Cheng Congwu from AutoNavi, Zhang Zhaoyang from Sohu would also be there.

Whether the acquisition succeeded would depend on how smoothly the conversation went tonight.

In plain terms, this dinner was more important than tomorrow's formal meeting.

Chen Yan readily agreed. After hanging up, he headed straight to the restaurant address sent by Liu Zhiping, accompanied by Song Yuncheng and Gao Wei.

Half an hour later, the car stopped in front of Jingzhao Yin's entrance.

It was a three-court traditional-style courtyard house, facing Yonghe Palace, next to the Imperial Academy, with classic Chinese architectural design: green bamboo, white stone, winding streams. Just by the decor, you knew it wasn't cheap.

Chen Yan stepped out of the car and, guided by a server, passed a white screen wall, entered through a narrow gate, and arrived at the door of a private room in the inner courtyard.

Liu Zhiping sat holding a teacup, chatting casually with Sohu's Zhang Zhaoyang, occasionally bursting into loud laughter.

"Martin, this whole thing's been a hassle. Thanks for coming all the way from Shencheng to Yancheng."

Chen Yan stepped forward with a smile, interrupting their conversation.

"Charles, I won't introduce Chen Yan—he's someone you definitely know."

Liu Zhiping smiled at Zhang Zhaoyang, then stood up to greet Chen Yan, pulling him over.

"Zhang Zong, I've long admired your name. I wanted to say hello at last year's Internet Open Conference, but thought it too forward. Now we've finally met again."

Chen Yan exchanged polite pleasantries, his tone filled with just the right blend of humility and sincerity.

Zhang Zhaoyang's smile couldn't be contained.

For some reason, if anyone else had said these things, he'd have ignored them—but coming from Chen Yan, they gave him an inexplicable sense of warmth.

"Actually, I've had similar thoughts. So thank you, Martin, for creating this chance to meet."

Zhang Zhaoyang extended his hand to greet Chen Yan.

"Let's sit and talk. Cheng Congwu will arrive a bit later," Liu Zhiping explained.

Chen Yan nodded, waving his hand to indicate it was fine.

"Chen Zong, online rumors say your Orange C2 phone has sold one million units. Is that true?"

Zhang Zhaoyang asked curiously after sitting down.

After all, Orange Tech had climbed into the top five of China's smartphone shipment rankings in under a year, with over ten million units sold.

"To be precise, cumulative sales are 1. 7 million, but order fulfillment is only half—ah, production capacity still can't keep up."

Chen Yan smiled and answered honestly.

Liu Zhiping was silently stunned, thinking to himself: this guy is truly a prodigy—he not only masters the internet but also thrives in physical manufacturing.

Zhang Zhaoyang nodded slightly, a flicker of surprise in his eyes.

Sohu and Tencent were both light-asset operations; he genuinely believed making phones was too slow to profit, with too long a payback cycle.

But he didn't say that aloud. Instead, he lavished praise on Chen Yan's business acumen, declaring outright: "If I'd met you two years ago, I'd have offered you a million-yuan salary to join Sohu."

This made Liu Zhiping laugh. He slapped Zhang Zhaoyang's shoulder: "Ma Wenteng offered him ten million a year—he didn't even blink."

Hearing them tease him, Chen Yan shifted to gossip: "Zhang Zong, I heard Ma Zong once approached you, wanting to sell QQ for one million dollars—but you turned him down?"

Zhang Zhaoyang's face stiffened. He shook his head: "Do I look that stupid?"

He paused, then added: "Before the year 2000, I already saw the potential of instant messaging. I even developed a software called SoQ—just never got it off the ground."

"As for buying QQ, I did consider it. But back then, QQ's valuation had already hit ninety million U. . dollars. Sohu couldn't afford it."

Zhang Zhaoyang smiled helplessly, clarifying to Chen Yan.

"Originally, Zhang Zong wanted to buy QQ's equity from IDG, but after IDG exited, they sold the equity to South Africa's Naspers Group."

Liu Zhiping smiled faintly, correcting Zhang Zhaoyang.

Back then, IDG had invested in both Tencent and Sohu. Zhang Zhaoyang had specifically contacted IDG's co-founder, telling him: if you ever want to sell QQ's equity, sell it to me.

But IDG sold the equity directly to Naspers—without even informing Zhang Zhaoyang.

"Then Zhang Zong really lost big."

Chen Yan joked with a smile.

Zhang Zhaoyang gave a dry laugh, lifted his teacup, and took a sip to hide his embarrassment.

Who could deny it?

In 2012, Tencent's market cap was nearly sixty billion U. . dollars; Sohu was barely over one billion.

This "father of the internet" now had nothing but fame—his personal wealth didn't even match Chen Yan's.

And Ma Wenteng, the Shenzhen University student who once listened to his speeches, had become an internet titan worth tens of billions, always treated as an honored guest wherever he went.

Just as the three were chatting, a middle-aged man in a white shirt and gray suit, accompanied by his assistant, approached.

"Zong, let me introduce you—this is Mr. Chen Yan, Chairman of Senlian Capital."

Liu Zhiping stood up to make the introduction.

"Chen Zong, nice to meet you," Cheng Congwu said stiffly.

He couldn't help but scan Chen Yan up and down—in his eyes, Chen Yan's achievements were wildly out of sync with his age.

In his mind, he could not think of a single young person who had amassed a fortune of over ten billion by the age of twenty.

(End of chapter)