Chapter 333: 1 Billion Per Hour, the Most Critical Day of Q4

Hu Weiyi and Wang Zihao, leading a team, traveled from Huadong to Huabei and Huinan, visiting twelve bicycle factories in just six days.

Only Fuxida and Phoenix met ofo’s procurement requirements for pricing, production capacity, and defect rate, with a total vehicle cost of 390 yuan per unit.

Upon returning to Hangcheng, Wang Zihao rested briefly before continuing his search for smart lock suppliers.

Meanwhile.

A spreadsheet containing license plates and passwords for Didi Bikes quietly circulated in Yancheng, listing passwords for 1,600 bikes—all collected and compiled by netizens.

Didi Bike’s daily revenue plummeted from 10,000 yuan to 7,000 yuan, a 30% drop.

Upon learning this, Cheng Wei helplessly strengthened his resolve to replace the smart locks.

“Boss Cheng, the maintenance staff are demanding a salary raise,” said the heads of HR and Operations, entering together.

A raise?

Cheng Wei frowned slightly—he remembered clearly that maintenance workers earned 6,000 yuan, which was not low in Beijing in 2012, and the company even paid their social insurance.

Why were they dissatisfied?

“The steel frames, pneumatic tires, and chains used in Didi Bikes are all extremely ordinary, leading to excessively high failure rates.”

The Operations head explained slowly.

After all, the first-generation Didi Bike cost only 190 yuan—how good could the quality be?

After half a month of sun and rain, one-third of the handlebars were damaged.

Rust appeared at frame joints; bells didn’t ring, tires blew out, and chains fell off frequently.

Hearing this, Cheng Wei’s expression softened—he immediately realized the salary structure for maintenance staff was flawed.

After a moment’s thought, he told the Operations head: “Base salary drops to 3,000 yuan. Each employee must complete 500 basic repairs monthly. Beyond that, pay 5 yuan per bike.”

Switching from fixed pay to performance-based pay resolved the conflict and boosted staff motivation.

The heads of HR and Operations exchanged glances, then immediately left the office after receiving the boss’s reassurance policy to announce the change.

Although the base salary dropped, most maintenance workers accepted the new plan and signed new labor contracts.

Cheng Wei’s operational style grew increasingly seasoned—he easily defused this minor crisis.

This incident reminded him that shared bikes left outdoors had drastically reduced lifespans; cutting costs upfront felt good, but maintenance costs later would balloon.

Thinking of this, he immediately called the bicycle factory in Jinmen and halted production of the first-generation Didi Bike.

Suddenly, both Didi Bike and ofo raised their total vehicle cost targets to around 400 yuan.

At this moment, a senior student from Peking University’s Guanghua School of Management mounted a Didi Bike at a subway exit; at an intersection, the light turned red, and he reached for the brake.

Unfortunately, the brake was faulty—the bike shot across the crosswalk and was flung two or three meters by a speeding electric scooter.

Chang Wei’s head buzzed; it took a while to recover. His whole body ached. Before he could check his injuries, the old man on the scooter pointed at him and yelled: “Hey, kid, are you colorblind? You dare run a red light?”

“The brake’s broken.”

Chang Wei was furious but had no one to blame—he knew the man wasn’t wrong.

“Alright, stop lying on the ground. I won’t pay your medical bills. I’ll let you off for running the red light. That’s it.”

The old man finished speaking and rode off.

Though Chang Wei was fully or mostly at fault, he’d been badly injured—the old man feared being extorted and vanished instantly.

“Damn it, do you think I’d extort you?”

Chang Wei laughed bitterly, muttering under his breath, then gritted his teeth, dragged the bike aside, and sat heavily on the curb.

His palms, arms, and thighs were scraped raw, oozing bright red blood.

“Didi Bike? This junk raised 300 million yuan and is valued at 2 billion? Are investors insane?”

Chang Wei laughed in anger—he’d heard from classmates that Didi Bikes appearing on Beijing’s streets had just raised 300 million yuan and were valued at 2 billion. Intrigued, he decided to try one.

Who knew that within ten minutes, he’d crashed face-first.

“Is internet money really this easy to make? Just put a few bikes on the street and fool people into handing over hundreds of millions?”

Chang Wei narrowed his eyes, pondering silently.

He was from Hui’an too—he’d heard Chen Yan’s name until his ears were tired of it.

As a peer, who would admit he was inferior?

Though his family background ensured success without business, he wanted to compete with Chen Yan in commerce.

What damn internet king!

He just happened to ride a few industry trends!

Leaning against the roadside, Chang Wei glared fiercely at the Didi Bike, abandoned his plan to teach in the northwest, and developed a strong interest in shared bikes.

Cheng Wei had no idea that his relentless cost-cutting had just created a competitor.

On the other side.

At 10:30 p.m., though deep into the night, Building Six at Zhu Xianzhuang Tech Park remained brightly lit.

Tomorrow was Pinduoduo Mall’s first major participation in Double Eleven!

From October 14 to November 9—the 27-day presale period—the total GMV reached 29.43 billion Huayuan, with a single-day peak of 2.06 billion and an average of 1.09 billion per day, up 26.7% month-over-month.

Pinduoduo’s daily sales fluctuated wildly: peaks of 2.06 billion, valleys of 500 million to 600 million daily.

From November 4 to November 9, sales plunged to under 400 million per day.

Users suppressed their purchasing urges, waiting for Double Eleven.

Everyone knew the lowest prices came on promo day—unlike e-commerce promotions decades later.

Chen Yan walked out of Building Nine and straight into Building Six.

On the first-floor LED screen, real-time data rolled: daily active users, order volume, average order value, conversion rate, and sales.

One and a half hours remained until midnight, yet cumulative sales stood at a pitiful 340 million—less than half the daily average. No surprise; this was normal before a major promo.

Both merchants and platforms shared the same mindset: November lives or dies by tomorrow.

“Boss, want some barbecue? I’ll get you some,” Xu Xingxing smiled and approached as soon as she saw Chen Yan.

“Beef, tofu skin wrapped in cilantro, medium spice. Bring it to the second floor,” Chen Yan ordered without hesitation.

“Want a beer too?” Xu Xingxing suggested.

“Will you take me home if I get drunk?” Chen Yan raised an eyebrow, smiling.

“Sure, but I’m afraid Boss Chen won’t let me,” Xu Xingxing said, chin up.

“You know it,” Chen Yan said, turning and walking upstairs.

“Boss!”

“Sen-ge!”

“Boss!”

As soon as he reached the second floor, greetings rose in chorus.

Preparations were complete; staff from Business Development and Key Client Acquisition were openly eating barbecue and drinking beer, collecting overtime pay.

Chen Yan walked toward Zhang Yifeng and the others.

Li Hui immediately brought a chair and placed it before the boss.

Chen Yan sat down, took the beer Zhang Yifeng offered, sipped lightly, and said: “This beer tastes ordinary normally, but on promo day, you suddenly taste the malt—strange, isn’t it?”

“Sen-ge, does the malt aroma grow stronger the higher our sales?” Yuan Wei, an old employee hired by Chen Yan himself, like Zhang Yifeng and Li Hui, called him Sen-ge and dared to joke.

“Yifeng, how much do you think we’ll sell tomorrow?”

Chen Yan asked casually.

“We sold 2.79 billion during 618 over two days. Double Eleven should at least double that!” Zhang Yifeng chuckled.

“A Li sold over 6 billion last Double Eleven. Let’s aim for that,” Li Hui added.

“Shut up! My target with the boss is 5 billion. If we miss it, are you paying the difference?”

Huang Zheng, passing by the second floor, hurried over upon seeing the boss.

Hearing the 6-billion chant, he immediately interrupted.

Double Eleven sales determined everyone’s Q4 bonus—goals could be ambitious, but not absurd.

“Yifeng and Li Hui were just joking, Huang Zong. Don’t worry—I’m not the type to change orders capriciously.”

Chen Yan smiled, seeing Huang Zheng’s intent.

Li Hui stayed silent, quietly moving aside to pull a chair for Huang Zheng.

“Boss, you misunderstood me—I never thought that,” Huang Zheng blushed, sitting down and explaining.

“Really? Then let’s bet: if Double Eleven sales hit 5 billion, Pinduoduo’s Q4 bonus multiplier becomes 1.2. For every additional billion, add 0.1 to the multiplier—with no upper limit.”

Chen Yan spoke calmly.

“Agreed,” Huang Zheng said, exhaling in relief—the 5-billion target already carried a 1.2x bonus multiplier.

Zhang Yifeng, Yuan Wei, Li Hui, and others beamed with excitement but could do nothing now.

The promo rhythm was set—wait for results.

Soon, Xu Xingxing brought a plate of barbecue.

Time ticked away; suddenly, it was midnight.

Double Eleven promo officially began!

Today was Sunday; users had stayed up late just to hit “pay” at the final moment.

Dozens of zones—snacks, women’s wear, cosmetics, 3C electronics, appliances, general merchandise—suddenly flooded with tens of millions of buyers submitting orders simultaneously.

Hundreds of thousands of transactions per second tested Pinduoduo and Orange Pay to their limits.

Thanks to thorough preparation, servers didn’t crash, but pages lagged and loaded slowly.

Everyone at Pinduoduo was in a frenzy, eyes locked on the backend data, fingers hammering F5, relentlessly refreshing.

10 million!

60 million!

90 million!

In less than a minute, platform sales surpassed one billion!

One hour later, cumulative sales reached ten billion!

Chen Yansen glanced at his wristwatch, signaled the administration department to clear out the staff, and declared that anyone still present after fifteen minutes would lose their Q4 bonus outright.

Hundreds of buses were parked outside the compound, tasked with safely transporting employees back to hotels or residential areas in the city.

Chen Yansen and Song Yuncheng walked into the guest room section of the sky garden, one behind the other.

“I bought you a new gift,” Chen Zong said the moment they entered the room, pulling out a light blue one-piece cosplay suit.

“You just love teasing me,” Song Yuncheng said, cheeks flushed, fingers fiddling with the tail of the cosplay suit, shooting Chen Yansen a playful, indignant look.

“Good girl, put it on!” Chen Yansen stared fixedly at Song Yuncheng.

Song Yuncheng picked up the cosplay suit and obediently slipped into the bathroom.

……

……

In Yan Cheng, JD headquarters building, night outside the windows was as black as ink, yet the office area glowed as bright as day.

Liu Qiangdong raised his wine glass and toasted one by one with the heads of each product category’s procurement and sales departments.

“Brothers! Raise your glasses—win Double Eleven, and your year-end bonus doubles!”

Liu Qiangdong laughed heartily and raised his glass in invitation.

On the large screen behind him, JD’s first-hour cumulative sales were frozen at 310 million Huayuan!

(End of chapter)