Chapter 339: Mimo Goes Live Soon! Twenty Million U.S. Dollars a Month? Give It to Me!

“Mainly, Pony doesn’t think much of his startup project.”

Liu Zhiping smiled and explained.

Tencent organized the summer startup camp precisely to find outstanding talent or invest in commercially viable startup projects.

This guy didn’t want to join Tencent, and Ma Wenteng wasn’t willing to invest, so Liu Zhiping remembered Chen Yansen’s request and decided to recommend this person to Senlian Capital.

“I trust Liu Zong’s judgment—have him come to Xucheng.” Chen Yansen replied promptly.

Implicitly, he planned to interview the candidate personally.

“Sure, I’ll have Zhang Xiaolong notify him.” Liu Zhiping responded.

“Martin, thanks.” Chen Yansen added.

“Let’s leave it at that—come find me for tea when you have time.” Liu Zhiping said, then hung up.

Throughout the entire conversation, neither mentioned the candidate’s name or resume.

Liu Zhiping didn’t say, and Chen Yansen wouldn’t ask.

Since the other party brought it up, regardless of the person’s ability, Chen Yansen would at least give him one interview opportunity.

Meanwhile.

In a café in Pudong New Area, Shanghai.

Mao Chaorong put down his phone, a look of excitement crossing his face, then turned to Qu Fang across from him: “Zhang Xiaolong called—Chen Zong of Senlian Capital wants to meet me.”

“Congratulations,” Qu Fang replied with a faint smile.

Both were from Jiangcheng; they met by chance on a street in the Lantern Nation.

One was a planning department manager at Bertelsmann, the other an MBA student at Stanford.

After Mao Chaorong graduated, Qu Fang quit her high-paying job at Bertelsmann and returned home with him.

The young man before her was twenty-six or twenty-seven, dressed in a sharp suit, with handsome features and a constant smile on his lips—she found him deeply appealing.

Their relationship was somewhere between friends and lovers.

But both were smart—Qu Fang’s decision to quit her job and follow him home to start a business spoke volumes.

Yet what troubled Qu Fang was that Mao Chaorong seemed to have no intention of taking things further.

Was she just imagining things?

Qu Fang gave a bitter smile, happy for Mao Chaorong’s progress but regretful of her impulsive decision.

“I’ll book a ticket right away—I’m heading to Xucheng today.” Mao Chaorong picked up his phone and hurriedly started booking.

“You go ahead—I won’t come.” Qu Fang said calmly.

Hearing this, Mao Chaorong froze, his hands stopping mid-motion. He looked puzzled: “You helped with the Red Skirt product plan—how can you not come?”

“I have no interest in startups. You should know why I came back.”

Qu Fang took a deep breath, tired of dancing around, and went straight for the point.

Mao Chaorong’s expression stiffened. After a silence of over ten seconds, he said reluctantly: “I thought you came back because you wanted to build a business and make money with me.”

Qu Fang laughed bitterly—she finally understood: a person pretending to sleep can never be woken.

“Do you think I’m ugly?” Qu Fang, frustrated, pressed again.

“No,” Mao Chaorong shook his head.

“Fucking hell! You’re such an asshole.” Qu Fang cursed, grabbed her handbag, and walked out without looking back.

Mao Chaorong was stunned—he never expected Qu Fang, a graduate of Beijing Foreign Studies University who’d lived abroad for six years, to curse so harshly, so bluntly, for the first time.

But he truly had no feelings for her.

In his heart, he only cared about his career and financial freedom.

So, within less than a minute, he calmed himself and calmly booked his ticket.

Two hours later, he arrived at Hongqiao Railway Station and boarded the train to Xucheng East.

Liu Zhiping made it clear: Chen Yansen needed a project lead in the Lantern Nation.

As for the Red Skirt business plan, he’d review it too—whether he’d invest depended entirely on Mao Chaorong’s ability.

Of course, Chen Yansen might also look down on his project, just like Ma Wenteng did.

The opportunity was right in front of him—even if the odds were slim, Mao Chaorong decided to go anyway.

For him, meeting Chen Yansen and having a conversation was already worth the trip.

After all, Chen Yansen’s business acumen was obvious—he’d earned over fifty billion U.S. dollars in just two years.

If the man gave him even two pieces of advice, he could benefit immensely. On the other side.

Huang Zheng led Li Guoqing on a tour of Pingbei’s headquarters.

Near noon, Huang Zheng invited Li Guoqing to dine at a downtown hotel, but Li Guoqing insisted on eating in the staff cafeteria; Huang Zheng couldn’t refuse.

After lunch, Huang Zheng took Li Guoqing to tour Orange Tech’s headquarters building, then sat down for tea in Chen Yansen’s office.

During the conversation about e-commerce, Li Guoqing consistently referred to Liu Qiangdong as “Big, Black, and Crude” and “Big Qiang.”

Clearly, Qingzi held a deep grudge against Liangzi Dong.

Only when the sun sank low and the clouds faded, the sky outside darkening, did the three leave the office, preparing to head to the Sky Garden for tonight’s drinking session.

As Chen Yansen stepped downstairs, the receptionist whispered: “Boss, a Mr. Mao just arrived in the lounge—he’s here to see you.”

Mr. Mao?

Chen Yansen turned and saw a young man, twenty-six or twenty-seven, dressed in a dark blue suit, sitting on a lounge chair, curiously scanning the surroundings.

This guy’s too eager.

Chen Yansen thought to himself.

“Boss, you go ahead—I’m not in a rush,” Li Guoqing said with good sense and ease.

“Huang Zong, take Li Zong to the restaurant first.” Chen Yansen glanced at Huang Zheng and gave a casual order.

“Yes, Boss.” Huang Zheng nodded.

Chen Yansen excused himself and walked toward the lounge.

Mao Chaorong, hearing footsteps, turned quickly and saw Chen Yansen approaching.

He’d seen Chen Yansen’s photo—he recognized him instantly, and didn’t dare delay. He stood up instinctively and stepped forward: “Mr. Chen, hello! I’m Mao Chaorong. Here’s my resume and the Red Skirt business plan.”

“Mr. Mao, please sit.”

Chen Yansen gestured with his hand.

“Thank you, Mr. Chen.” Mao Chaorong was tense, his breathing heavy.

Mao Chaorong, from Jiangcheng, a graduate of Jiaotong University, was somewhat of an alumnus with Zhang Xuhao. He worked four years at two private equity firms before going to the Lantern Nation for his MBA.

From his resume, he had no background in short video or social apps.

But Chen Yansen didn’t care about that—he cared about methodology and problem-solving ability.

He glanced at the Red Skirt business plan once, then set it aside.

This was just Instagram with Chinese localization, built entirely on information asymmetry.

No wonder Ma Wenteng looked down on it!

After WeChat launched Moments, it effectively integrated Instagram’s photo features—ignoring it was perfectly normal.

He agreed with Little Ma: such social apps had some commercial value, but not much.

Ma Wenteng believed Red Skirt conflicted with WeChat’s business—no need to support an outside “adopted son” when you could focus on your own “blood son.”

Chen Yansen thought short video had greater potential—if he couldn’t convince Mao Chaorong, he might as well make a seed investment.

But he didn’t want to show it!

More important than investment was finding a reliable lead for short video.

Mao Chaorong noticed Chen Yansen’s subtle gesture and his heart sank—he instantly lost all confidence.

After being rejected by two industry giants, Ma Wenteng and Chen Yansen, he began to wonder: was Red Skirt’s business model flawed, or was it his own ability?

The prototype app, Instagram, was wildly popular overseas—why did it keep failing in China?

In his view, copying foreign apps back home posed no problem.

Ma Wenteng did it. Ma Liyun did it. Li Yanhong did it.

And all of them succeeded—now each worth tens of billions.

“Martin told you, right? Today Tech wants to enter the short video space.”

Chen Yansen asked softly.

“I know. Early this year, the Lantern Nation launched a product called Vine—six-second short videos. It’s somewhat known in North America, but its user base is tiny, far behind Instagram, Twitter, and Facebook.”

Mao Chaorong thought carefully, choosing his words precisely.

His implication: Vine’s business model doesn’t work—Mr. Chen, you’d be better off investing in my Red Skirt.

“My product is called Mimo—short for ‘Moment In, Moment Out.’ Initial market investment will be no less than twenty million U.S. dollars per month.”

Chen Yansen gestured with his fingers.

Twenty million U.S. dollars?

If that money were mine, how wonderful it would be!

Mao Chaorong swallowed hard, thinking inwardly: So damn rich.

(End of Chapter)