Chapter 320: Heavy Load Tester, Terrifying Power! Yu

Boss, this is the pre-launch warm-up and promotion plan for Yu'e Bao, along with the marketing strategy for launch day. I’ve already coordinated with Huang Zong from Pinbei, Liang Zong from Jinri Tech, and Zhang Zong from ByteDance—we’ll synchronize cross-platform, full-network collaboration to ensure maximum exposure for the product.

Zhang Yinjia set down a printed document and immediately explained.

"The launch date is set for October 11, exactly one month before Double Eleven, encouraging users to transfer idle funds into Yu’e Bao to earn returns, forming a closed loop of consumption plus wealth management."

Chen Yansen took the plan and flipped through it quickly, absorbing all the information in moments.

Starting October 8, Orange Pay began pushing activity notifications to users via a dedicated landing page, detailing Yu’e Bao’s wealth management features and emphasizing its low entry threshold and flexibility: “Start with just one yuan, deposit and withdraw anytime.”

Both Jinri Toutiao and Lingxi Browser allocated prominent ad spaces on their homepages for Orange Pay and Yu’e Bao, achieving an average daily exposure of over 20 million.

The primary goal wasn’t app download conversion, but rather cultivating more potential users in preparation for Yu’e Bao’s launch.

Social platforms like Weibo and forums were also key channels for promotion.

Orange Pay’s marketing team invited a group of finance bloggers and internet influencers who, the moment Yu’e Bao launched, would immediately share positive user experiences to build strong word-of-mouth.

Additionally, ads were simultaneously placed on subways and buses in Yancheng, Husheng, and Jin Ling, reinforcing the concept that “Yu’e Bao = upgraded demand deposit.”

In 2012, the benchmark interest rate for demand deposits was 0.35%, and the one-year fixed deposit rate was 3%.

In simple terms, Yu’e Bao’s demand deposit returns were higher than the annual yield of a bank’s one-year fixed deposit.

Moreover, the T+0 redemption mechanism meant users could withdraw funds anytime, greatly enhancing trust.

"Understood, Boss, no problem." Zhang Yinjia nodded in response.

With that, he left with Zhou Mingxuan.

Chen Yansen turned on his computer, logged into the data backend, and routinely checked the business and financial data of all subsidiaries. After confirming everything was in order, he opened his email to continue handling procurement, patent licensing, and marketing budget requests.

His physical attribute score exceeding 30 had once again reduced his sleep duration—he now woke automatically after less than three hours of sleep.

Song Yuncheng, exhausted from a full day of flying, returned to his dorm and collapsed into bed.

Yet he felt no fatigue whatsoever—his energy and stamina remained extraordinarily abundant!

Outside the window, the sky grew dim; a crescent moon rose above the hazy branches, hanging suspended in midair.

Chen Yansen glanced at his watch—six fifteen. Autumn deepened; barely past six, the streetlights in the tech park had already turned on.

The Rolex Explorer he once wore on his wrist had been replaced by a Patek Philippe Calatrava mechanical watch.

It was a gift Song Yuncheng bought him in Switzerland, spending two months’ salary and overtime pay.

"That idiot!"

Chen Yansen stared at the watch and couldn’t help muttering.

Though he didn’t want to admit it, he knew deep down that Song Yuncheng was different from those “money-only, no feelings” girls—this girl knew he had a girlfriend, yet still threw herself at him without hesitation.

For a moment, a warmth stirred in Chen Zong’s heart.

Chen Yansen smiled faintly, closed his laptop, and stood up to leave.

One minute later, he bumped into Gao Wei in the first-floor lobby as the man was about to enter.

"Boss, you’re back from your vacation?" Gao Wei asked instinctively, then quickly corrected himself: "I mean, from your business trip."

"The investment letter of intent for Spotify has been sent to your email. You handle the follow-up. The preliminary valuation is $2.8 billion. If Spotify’s data hasn’t been manipulated, proceed at that price."

Chen Yansen stopped and gave Gao Wei instructions.

"Yes, sir." Gao Wei responded immediately.

He’d known about the Spotify investment two days ago and had already begun compiling detailed data on Spotify—including past funding rounds, post-investment valuations, and daily active and paying user figures for each financing stage.

"By the way, one more thing—buy me two or three standalone villas in Lucheng. Size doesn’t need to be large—five hundred square meters each is enough. The distance between each villa must be at least five kilometers."

Chen Yansen instructed.

Three villas?

Gao Wei blinked slightly, wondering: Besides Meng Jie and Song Yuncheng, who was the third person?

"Understood." Though curious, Gao Wei knew what not to ask and what not to say.

After speaking, Chen Yansen stepped out of the office building, got into the Bentley’s driver’s seat, turned around, and slowly drove toward Xuyuan.

The freshmen of this cohort had just finished military training; after a month, most had adapted to Xuyuan’s academic and living environment.

Groups of young people came and went outside the restaurant opposite Xuyuan’s east gate—some meeting fellow townspeople, some attending student union gatherings, others having club dinners.

Chen Yansen’s gaze flickered briefly through the car window, then he sighed. Even reborn at twenty, he’d lost the youthful spirit of a teenager.

For him, college served mainly to give his father and mother peace of mind, and perhaps to relive university life.

Thinking of this, he stopped by the campus supermarket, bought a dozen beers and a bag of savory snacks, and shuffled lazily into Room 8302.

"Bang!"

Chen Yansen kicked open the door. Only Tang Zhenzhe and Song Yang were inside.

"Sen-ge, long time no see! You came, but why bring gifts?" Tang Zhenzhe quietly closed Kuaibo and smiled to greet him.

"Haven’t Bo-bo and Zhu Xiaopeng finished work yet?" Chen Yansen pulled over a chair, sat down, dumped the beer and snacks on the table, and asked.

"They won’t miss out on 1.5x overtime pay." Song Yang grinned as he approached, then added: "Qiangzi is on duty at the startup park—I’ll call him."

"No need. A dozen beers are perfect for three people." Chen Yansen waved him off.

Tang Zhenzhe had been about to call Meng Xibo and Zhu Xiaopeng, but hearing Chen Yansen’s words, he put the phone down.

Though Chen Yansen hadn’t returned to the dorm in a while, he reached into a drawer and pulled out a bottle opener without hesitation.

Song Yang and Tang Zhenzhe weren’t heavy drinkers; after a few bottles, their faces flushed and they began babbling.

They chattered endlessly—from the delivery station to the student union, then to first-year girls, repeating themselves over and over.

Song Yang and Tang Zhenzhe, now in their third year, remained naive in social conduct and romance.

Listening to their nonsense, Chen Yansen laughed heartily.

An hour later, he left the male dormitory and walked toward the faculty apartments. As he walked, he pondered the technical design of the heavy load tester.

Zuo Hongyu had bought all the equipment on Chen Yansen’s list—industrial hydraulic load testers, force sensors, and other components—and shipped them to the warehouse Chen Yansen specified: a section of industrial zone in the northwest corner of Zhuxianzhuang Tech Park.

Chen Yansen wanted to know his strength limit.

…

…

The next morning, Chen Yansen didn’t go to the tech park—he went straight to the equipment warehouse.

The room, six meters high and over six hundred square meters in area, was filled with brand-new industrial parts: titanium alloy frames, ten-centimeter-thick quenched steel plates, hydraulic dampers, S-type tension-compression sensors, rubber damping layers, electromagnetic power-off devices, and industrial-grade data acquisition equipment.

For an ordinary person, handling these components—weighing hundreds or even thousands of kilograms—would be impossible without cranes or robotic arms.

But Chen Yansen gave it a try: the 2,000-kilogram quenched steel plate moved effortlessly under his light lift.

The morning passed quickly; finally, a bizarre-looking heavy load tester was fully assembled.

It looked ugly, but it worked.

Directly in front of the tester was a circular metal impact plate, connected to an S-type tension-compression sensor. When struck, the signal amplifier instantly collected sensor data, converted the analog signal to digital via an AD conversion module, and uploaded it to the data acquisition device to calculate his strength value.

Chen Yansen raised his right hand, exerted slight force, and delivered a precise punch to the impact plate.

The industrial touchscreen immediately displayed: 6,239 kilograms!

Less than half his strength already reached six tons?

Chen Yansen looked at his right hand—skin intact, finger bones undamaged. Clearly, his body’s resilience meant he didn’t need to fear bursting his skin from overexertion.

"Thud!" A loud crash!

Chen Yansen swung another punch—this time using seven or eight tenths of his strength. The display surged to 10,299 kilograms!

"Damn!"

Chen Yansen sucked in a sharp breath. His strength was fine, but his physical durability wasn’t enough—his hand’s skin and flesh burned with searing pain under the impact of ten tons.

No skin broke, but a large area turned red.

He sensed that if he unleashed his full power against the steel plate, his finger bones might crack.

Stop testing!

His physical attribute needed another upgrade.

Test leg strength!

Chen Yansen precisely controlled his power to seventy percent, then suddenly delivered a powerful front kick straight into the impact plate.

The ten-centimeter quenched steel plate groaned under the blow; the entire heavy load tester, weighing around ten tons, was shoved backward three or four meters.

The display’s numbers skyrocketed, finally stabilizing at 17,136 kilograms!

It wasn’t hard to imagine what would happen if Chen Yansen unleashed a full-force kick on an UFC champion.

He’d be reduced to scattered pieces on the spot.

Chen Yansen summoned his system panel, stared at the value of 31.16, and fell into a daze.

If he raised it to 100, how much strength would he have? Sixty tons? A hundred tons?

Combined with his terrifying spiritual sense, he could avoid 99.99% of accidents—even deliberate threats would be impossible to hide from his spiritual perception.

This heavy load tester’s maximum capacity was twenty tons. Unless he replaced the hydraulic system to expand its range, another kick from Chen Yansen would completely destroy the device’s components.

Once he understood this, Chen Yansen lost interest in further testing.

He left the industrial zone, drove back to the tech park, ate lunch, then spent the afternoon holding weekly meetings with project leads, starting with Pinbei Mall.

Huang Zheng was busy preparing for Double Eleven, and to support Yu’e Bao’s launch, the product team designed an “Order and Get Trial Funds” campaign.

For example, buying a 99-yuan electric kettle would grant 10,000 yuan in Yu’e Bao trial funds, valid for three days—more purchases meant more bonuses.

Though 10,000 yuan sounded tempting, the actual cost was only four yuan—it boosted Orange Pay downloads and acquired new Yu’e Bao users at an incredible value.

After completing his report, Huang Zheng added: "Boss, I plan to invite key merchants to a Pinbei merchant conference before Double Eleven—both to summarize 2012’s work and to negotiate next year’s paid advertising partnerships."

Today, Pinbei’s revenue streams were increasingly refined: beyond annual technical service fees, there were various paid resources, with gross margins reaching 8% of platform GMV.

Clearly, Huang Zheng knew how to make money—especially how to extract money from merchants.

"Do as you see fit." Chen Yansen didn’t object, signaling him to proceed.

"Alright, boss," Huang Zheng replied with a faint smile.

Working at Pinbei Tech didn’t make him feel like he was working for someone else; Chen Yansen, as boss, held only one weekly meeting per week, lasting less than an hour, and interfered minimally in his management and operations.

Moreover, the generous annual salary and stock option rewards gave him a strong sense of belonging to Pinbei.

Next came the meeting at Orange Tech, where Zhou Shouzhi, as usual, reported financial and business data, then specifically mentioned the progress of the Orange Smart Life Store project.

In nine days online, there were 32 stores total, with cumulative sales of 130 million yuan; 71% came from offline channels, and the remaining 29% were transacted via KuaiPao.

This paled in comparison to the output of Orange Mall, Pinbei, Tianmao Mall, Suning, and Gome flagship stores, but it added a completely new sales channel for Orange Tech.

In the future, once Orange phones’ direct stores are nationwide, they could generate at least tens of billions in annual revenue.

"Boss, I heard Xiaomi plans to expand into India," Zhou Shouzhi said seriously after finishing the main agenda.

In his view, India—with a population exceeding 1.2 billion and fewer than 30 million smartphones in use—was perfect for Orange Tech’s growth.

"You’re interested in India’s smartphone market?" Chen Yansen asked in return.

"I think Lei Yi’s vision is sharp. India is like China three years ago—once its potential explodes, annual smartphone shipments won’t fall below 100 million units," Zhou Shouzhi said solemnly.

"Stick to a light-operating model—don’t touch heavy-asset investments like building factories. I don’t trust the Indian market much; after all, Pepsi and Samsung have both been burned, and Orange Tech might be next."

Chen Yansen didn’t directly oppose him; he merely told Zhou Shouzhi to test the waters first, then frankly voiced his concerns.

After all, the third brother treats everyone the same—everyone gets cheated.

For the Indian market, stick to e-commerce and distributor channels—it lets Orange Tech withdraw quickly if needed.

"OK," Zhou Shouzhi nodded, showing understanding.

Meanwhile,

Less than nine hours remained until Yu’e Bao’s launch.

(End of chapter)