Chapter 355: Don

At dawn, in the ink-blue sky, a gray-white halo rose along the horizon as the first light of morning emerged, cold and warm interwoven.

The wind chime on the balcony tinkled softly.

Chen Yansen sat beside the sofa, the window outside a blinding white expanse as cold winds whirled snowflakes through the air.

His phone screen remained on the Today’s Headlines interface.

Wowo Team announced three days early that it would shut down its servers; this group-buying website, established barely two years ago, had been crushed in the final stage of competition.

The 16th navigation satellite of the BeiDou system was launched, completing the regional network coverage for Asia-Pacific.

eBay reentered China’s e-commerce market, partnering with Xiuxiu.com to launch the “eBayStyle Show” channel, focusing on cross-border goods.

WeChat’s Zero Money Treasure went live for five days, with funds exceeding 3 billion Huayuan, once again validating the feasibility of internet finance after Yu’ebao.

Chen Yansen glanced quickly, his mind turning over yesterday’s evening call—Hu Ruihui of the Huake Association wanted to visit Orange Tech, likely because news of OrangeZ1 had already spread.

Huake was the first fish he’d hooked.

Who would be the second?

Ten minutes later, Chen Yansen snapped back to focus, rose, fetched his laptop, opened his editor, and began drafting logistics algorithms targeting Yunsu’s transportation trunk lines and sorting efficiency.

For Chen Zong, twenty-two hours a day was too long—he always had to find something to do.

At ten a.m., Ali Baba publicly announced via media that the Cainiao Express Alliance would be established on December 28, with members including Baishi, Tiantian, SF Express, and Guotong Express.

It would serve millions of sellers on Taobao and Tmall.

Industry insiders generally believed Cainiao Express Alliance would struggle to gain traction, given the looming obstacle of Yunsu Express Alliance.

Cainiao lacked even its own developed electronic waybill system and still needed patent licenses from Yunsu; combined with the absence of last-mile delivery solutions, it was no match at all.

Meanwhile, Tiantian, SF Express, and Guotong had joined Cainiao Express Alliance while already being part of Yunsu Express Alliance—purely opportunistic behavior.

But Ma Liyun didn’t care!

His original intent in launching Cainiao Logistics was to use someone else’s chicken to lay eggs—first seize the courier industry’s data and resources, then decide what to do next.

At three p.m., Chen Yansen left Ye Qiuping’s residential complex and headed toward the tech park by car.

On the way, Xu Minggang of Lucheng Xincheng International called, exchanged pleasantries, and updated him on the construction progress of Orange Tech’s headquarters.

Chen Yansen replied briefly and hung up.

On the other side.

Cheng Wei sat in his office at Digital Valley, staring blankly at last week’s business data.

Currently, DiDi Bikes had deployed over fifty thousand units in Yancheng, yet daily revenue barely exceeded ten thousand Huayuan—insufficient even to cover maintenance staff salaries, let alone profit.

“Chang Wei, you crazy dog, why don’t you go challenge OFO in the southern market instead of fighting DiDi to the death? You’ve clearly lost your mind!”

Cheng Wei sighed, muttering under his breath.

He’d heard OFO had deployed eighty thousand shared bikes across seven eastern cities, with daily revenue exceeding 300,000 Huayuan—no need for expensive advertising or loss-leading promotions, yet market share skyrocketed, leaving him deeply envious.

Cheng Wei continued scrolling: in Jinmen, Anci, and Tangcheng, deployment numbers stood at thirty thousand units; since DiDi Bikes monopolized these markets, daily revenue remained stable at 100,000 Huayuan.

In other words, shared bikes were not a fake demand—they genuinely solved the last-mile transportation problem.

The current issue was that Huang Bikes stubbornly clung to DiDi Bikes; though both companies were headquartered in Yancheng, their profitability was lower than that of surrounding second- and third-tier cities.

Thinking of this, Cheng Wei pulled out his phone, found an unfamiliar number, hesitated briefly, then dialed.

He didn’t want to keep fighting Chang Wei!

“Duuu… duuu… duuu…”

After about ten seconds, the dial tone abruptly stopped, replaced by a young male voice: “Hello, who’s calling?”

“I’m Cheng Wei of DiDi Bikes.” Cheng Wei introduced himself.

“Oh? What does Manager Cheng want? Has DiDi Bikes finally given up and decided to surrender?” Chang Wei chuckled teasingly.

In his view, Cheng Wei was a waste—besides a slightly sharp business instinct, his operational skills were pathetic: crushed by Kuai Di, kicked out of Didi’s management team by Baidu.

Clearly, Cheng Wei didn’t understand business operations or financial basics, didn’t even know the simplest dual-class share structure, and getting kicked out by Li Yanhong was entirely deserved.

“Manager Chang, you always joke. With DiDi Bikes’ funding scale and deployment size, how could Huang Bikes possibly win? I just think the five ride vouchers per day subsidy hurts everyone—long-term, it only lets OFO in the south reap the benefits.”

Cheng Wei suppressed his anger and patiently pleaded.

“Are you telling me how to run my business? If DiDi Bikes can’t afford it, just cancel the subsidy.”

Chang Wei snorted, showing Cheng Wei no respect whatsoever.

In truth, he understood Cheng Wei’s point—but he had no intention of backing down.

At this early stage, Huang Bikes and DiDi Bikes were barely getting started; the marketing cost to suppress competitors was still low. Once their scale grew, it would waste money and become exponentially harder.

He would crush the threat in its cradle!

He would give Cheng Wei no chance to grow!

“I’ll see how long Huang Bikes can last!” With no common ground, Cheng Wei ended the call with a sharp click.

“Song Tianlu, come in!”

Furious, Cheng Wei strode to the office door, stuck his head out, and shouted at the head of marketing.

He wanted to make Huang Bikes have zero orders!

“Boss, what’s your order?” Song Tianlu sprinted over, dodged the desk, and hurried forward.

Inside the office, Cheng Wei sat down and said to Song Tianlu: “Revise the returning customer subsidy policy—raise daily ride vouchers from five to ten. Also, mimic Kuai Di’s red packet feature: add a ‘lucky draw red packet’ on the order completion page, giving cash directly.”

Ten vouchers per day?

Ride for free, plus cash rewards?

Song Tianlu paused slightly, sensing his boss’s marketing strategy was ruthless.

“The voucher quantity is easy—just adjust backend parameters. But the lucky draw red packet needs development.”

Song Tianlu responded immediately.

“No problem. Adjust the voucher quantity first; the red packet feature can wait.” Cheng Wei waved his hand.

“Got it, Boss. I’ll coordinate with He Bo.” Song Tianlu nodded and left the office, heading toward the R&D department.

“Chang Wei, you’ve got connections, so what? You really think your family background lets you run roughshod over business?”

Cheng Wei cursed under his breath.

He admitted he couldn’t beat Cheng Weixing—but that didn’t mean a business newcomer like Chang Wei could shit on his head.

If he had zero skills or ability, how could he have become general manager of ZhiFuBao’s B2C division?

That afternoon, DiDi Bikes users in Yancheng noticed, via pop-up ads, that their accounts had gained five more ride vouchers.

“Heh, these internet companies spend investors’ money like water, never thinking about profit, just chasing flashy gimmicks—how can you run a business like this?”

“I say the old days were better. When Kuai Di and Didi competed, going out to buy groceries meant being picked up and dropped off.”

“Exactly! Shared bikes are free, sure—but in this freezing winter, riding one is pure torture!”

“The internet’s really creative now—if shared bikes exist, why not shared cars or shared wives?” “Aren’t shared wives already a thing?”

At the alley entrance, a few gossipy uncles chuckled while playing chess, their faces twisted into knowing smirks.

“Uncles, if shared cars really existed, would you use them?”

A middle-aged man watching nearby asked.

“Of course! Why not?”

“If it’s free, I’ll use it!”

The middle-aged men playing chess answered indifferently.

Wang Fengli listened, lost in thought, then turned to watch pedestrians riding bikes past the roadside.

Under DiDi Bikes and Huang Bikes’ push, shared bikes had become a fashion item in Yancheng—pull out your phone, scan, ride, stop, and pay nothing.

This thing could raise hundreds of millions in funding, be valued at billions?

Wang Fengli smiled and shook his head; a business plan in his mind grew clearer.

Shared wives were illegal, but wasn’t a shared car just the internet version of car rental?

The more he thought, the more excited he became—he felt he’d found a brand-new business lane.

At the same time, upon learning Cheng Wei had increased subsidies, Chang Wei refused to be outdone and raised daily voucher issuance to twelve.

But Huang Bikes’ vouchers could only offset thirty minutes of usage time, and users still had to pay a 199-yuan deposit.

Thus, password lists for Huang Bikes continued to enjoy massive popularity on QQ groups, WeChat groups, BBS, Renren, and Baidu Netdisk.

“Boss, our maintenance staff got into a fight with taxi drivers!”

As Chang Wei pondered the Kaicheng plan, a subordinate burst in, reporting urgently.

“Why?” Chang Wei looked up, asking calmly.

“Preliminary guess: taxi drivers believe Huang Bikes hurt their business, so they’ve been dumping our bikes into rivers.” The subordinate explained slowly.

Fuck!

These idiots!

Chang Wei instantly lost his cool, then paused and asked: “Only Huang Bikes?”

“DiDi Bikes got dumped too,” the subordinate added.

“Then what the hell’s the point!” Chang Wei’s anger surged—he ordered: “Send legal affairs over—no leniency. Give these people a lesson they won’t forget.”

Otherwise, everyone would copy them—how could his company even operate?

“Understood, I’ll handle it right away.” The subordinate nodded.

“Also, have frontline maintenance staff tally the losses,” Chang Wei added.

But he hadn’t expected the reported number to be only 6,700 bikes—where were the remaining 1,300?

Remember, Huang Bikes had deployed a total of 8,000 bikes in Yancheng.

All of them in the river?

Or had someone broken the mechanical lock and stolen it as a private car?

We must hurry and replace the smart lock!

Chang Wei opened his mouth, looking bewildered, then silently resolved himself.

…

…

Hangcheng, Xingchi Technology Headquarters.

“317,000—not bad. Enough to buy tens of thousands of new users on Pinbei Mall.”

Wang Zihao smirked, self-deprecatingly.

From spending millions a day to earning just over thirty thousand, Brother Hao naturally felt a psychological drop.

But his position had risen from Toufangzongjian to COO, so perhaps he’d gained something after all.

“Mr. Wang, OFO bikes can’t compare to Pinbei Mall. Only by capturing the entire national market can we achieve profitability through economies of scale,” Hu Weiyi said with a smile.

Having worked with Wang Zihao for months, she had gradually understood his temperament and come to recognize his business acumen.

Although young, Wang Zihao acted with exceptional efficiency and calm decisiveness.

“Once the year-end report is done, immediately open the OFO bike funding window. Tencent, Hillhouse, and Sequoia Capital all have interest. After the New Year, it’s time for us to expand.”

Wang Zihao grunted and changed the subject.

Didi Bikes had completed two funding rounds, Xiao Huang Bikes had completed one, but OFO Bikes had yet to accept any investment.

Although Chen Yan didn’t lack money, he didn’t want to pour too much capital into shared bikes—so long as he retained controlling stakes, why not use VC money while it was free?

It wasn’t cutting-edge tech; no need to hoard it all.

Better to bring in a few suckers to share the burden!

Orangez1 and Tiangong T100 were different: for projects promising massive returns, Chen Yan always used a spin-off strategy, separating them from Orange Tech.

Thus, although Michael Keller and Wu Shengyu’s chip design team shared the same office building as Orange Tech employees, their employment contracts were with a different company.

Two days later, the last workday of the year.

At 8:15 a.m., as his December salary arrived, Chen Yan’s system panel gained 260,843 strands of Human Dao Flame.

“Synthesize. Add points!”

He was already accustomed to the enhancement process; within seconds, his physique rose from 64.48 to 90.56—just one step away from breaking 100.

His skin grew tougher, muscle and bone density surged, and blood surged from heart and brain, flooding every limb and vein.

His entire body’s qi and strength felt full to bursting.

“Huh? What’s this?”

Standing before the full-length mirror, Chen Yan scrutinized his eyes: a metallic luster ring now circled his irises—only his sharp observation had caught it.

It faintly emitted a dark-golden glow.

After experimenting in various ways, he found nothing extraordinary.

Chen Yan gave up caring—his kidneys were working fine.

He pushed open the villa gate, slid into the driver’s seat of the Bentley Mulsanne, and sped toward Zhuxianzhuang Technology Park.

Meanwhile,

Hu Ruihui, accompanied by over a dozen R&D engineers from the Longxin team, drove toward Xu City.

“Engineer Hu, I think Orange Tech might disappoint you,” one engineer said dismissively.

After all, Orange Tech was merely a smartphone assembly company. Even if it had made minor breakthroughs in voice interaction engines, instruction set technology was far more difficult.

“Don’t rush to deny it, and don’t rush to affirm it,” Hu Ruihui said calmly.

(End of Chapter)