Chapter 364

At the end of January, the north wind cut like a blade, whipping snow pellets into swirling spirals.

The bronze bells on the corner tower rang mournfully in the cold wind, while neon tubes snaked between towering buildings, dyeing Yanjing in dazzling colors.

A black Maybach 62S sped along Songyu Avenue, the street scenes blurring past the windows.

Chen Yansen lifted his gaze straight ahead, catching sight of a gilded sign bearing only two simple characters: “Yunku.”

“I thought about it—every time Zhang Zhaoyang invites you, it’s always to a bar,” Song Yuncheng said softly beside him.

“He invites me hiking, deep-sea fishing, golfing—but I’m not interested,” Chen Yansen replied.

It wasn’t lack of interest; Chen Zong only enjoyed these activities with girls who were beautiful and well-built.

With Old Zhang?

Forget it.

The bar staff, the moment they spotted the Maybach 62S and the Leopard license plate, immediately guided the driver to park in a spacious spot.

Xiao Li stepped out first, then opened the door for Chen Yansen.

“Chen Yansen of Senlian Capital?”

The staff member paused slightly, instantly recognizing Chen Yansen’s identity—but said nothing more.

Yunku’s rising popularity in Chaoyang District, favored by internet tycoons and celebrities, hinged on rigorous training—every staff member had sharp instincts.

Whether the guest was Ma Liyun or Li Yanhong, they never intruded uninvited.

Just as the staff member moved forward, someone pushed him aside from behind.

The bar’s marketing manager, dressed in a sharp suit, hair gleaming with gel, stepped forward with a smile: “Good evening, Chief Chen. Chief Zhang is waiting for you upstairs—I’ll take you up.”

Chen Yansen gave a slight nod, signaling for him to lead the way.

Song Yuncheng walked at his right side; Xiao Li fell back half a step, shifting from driver to temporary bodyguard.

They bypassed the brightly lit dance floor and bar, took the elevator to the top floor, and arrived at a private room.

The marketing manager pushed open the door, and a thick Beihu accent flooded Chen Yansen’s ears.

“Run forward, against cold glares and mockery,

How can you feel the vastness of life without enduring hardship…”

Leiyi Army wore a blue-striped shirt, seated on a leather sofa, gripping a wireless microphone, singing with deep immersion.

Chen Yansen frowned, his expression filled with distaste.

Zhang Zhaoyang, Ding Lei, and Liu Qiangdong were hunched over their drinks; beside them sat a young man in his thirties, wearing a white shirt and a polka-dot black tie, neither drinking nor singing, conspicuously out of place.

Leiyi Army caught the movement, caught sight of Chen Yansen from the corner of his eye, immediately dropped the mic, stopped singing, and beamed: “Chief Chen!”

Zhang Zhaoyang put down his glass, rose, and pulled Chen Yansen in through the door.

“Let me introduce you to a younger brother—Sogou’s CEO Wang Xiaochuan. He’s also my right-hand man.”

Zhang Zhaoyang pointed at Wang Xiaochuan and smiled.

“Chief Chen, hello, it’s an honor!” Wang Xiaochuan leaned forward slightly, bowing respectfully.

“Call me Chief Chen? Call me Sen-ge!” Zhang Zhaoyang scolded playfully.

Wang Xiaochuan was thirty-five; seeing Chen Yansen, fourteen years his junior, he didn’t hesitate or pretend modesty, and added plainly: “Sen-ge.”

His eyes carried a touch of admiration.

Among young entrepreneurs, Chen Yansen stood far ahead—no one among the post-90s, not even the post-80s or post-70s, matched his wealth or industry influence.

“Sogou’s search, input method, and URL navigation are all excellent. If not for Old Zhang’s feelings, I’d have poached you long ago.”

Chen Yansen gripped his hand, joking.

“If you steal Xiao Chuan away, our friendship is over,” Zhang Zhaoyang said, feigning seriousness.

“Sen-ge, you flatter me. Compared to your achievements, Sogou’s results are negligible,” Wang Xiaochuan replied humbly.

“Enough with the formalities. Drink!” Zhang Zhaoyang slapped Wang Xiaochuan’s shoulder and pulled him down into a seat.

Song Yuncheng was no stranger to Zhang Zhaoyang, Leiyi Army, and others; after brief greetings, he sat down too.

“Chief Chen, what’s Orange Tech’s sales target for next year?” Ding Lei picked up a bottle of whiskey, poured a third of it into Chen Yansen’s glass, then asked casually.

“One hundred million.” Chen Yansen took the glass, sipped lightly.

“Phone sales volume?” Ding Lei hadn’t processed it yet; Leiyi Army’s eyes widened in shock.

“Or sales revenue?” Chen Yansen teased.

“Double it in a year? I think it’s doable!” Ding Lei said confidently.

In his view, even NetEase’s phones sold four to five million units in half a year; Orange phones sold fifty million last year—this year, even if they didn’t hit one hundred million, they’d still sell seventy or eighty million.

“Chief Chen, to your health—may Orange phones break one hundred million in sales!” Liu Qiangdong raised his glass.

Since Orange Tech re-entered Jingdong, daily transaction volume had surged by sixty to seventy million, lifting its valuation.

Thus, despite being competitors, Liu Qiangdong’s attitude toward Chen Yansen was complex—he wanted to befriend him but remained ever wary.

“Thank you. I heard Jingdong’s 2012 transaction volume surpassed one hundred billion. Congratulations,” Chen Yansen clinked glasses with Liu Qiangdong and smiled.

Liu Qiangdong’s face stiffened, his heart souring.

Pinduoduo’s annual sales exceeded three hundred billion—far beyond Jingdong.

In today’s e-commerce landscape, the boast of surpassing Alibaba in three years had become a joke; even Pinduoduo had become a mountain blocking Jingdong’s path.

He really needed to learn how to recharge!

Liu Qiangdong sighed inwardly.

“By the way, at dinner tonight, Wang Xin called me and asked me to pass on a message—he wants to sell Meituan to you.”

Zhang Zhaoyang suddenly said.

Chen Yansen shook his head dismissively: “Why would I buy Meituan? Wang Xin is naive.”

According to the December group-buying industry report, Meituan had fallen to fourth place—worse than Dazhong Dianping and Lashou.com; acquiring it held no value.

Without Shan Jiawei, Meituan had become ordinary again.

Moreover, Pei Yi had spent three months preparing to crush Meituan’s food delivery and Baidu Food Delivery—how could Chen Yansen possibly leave Wang Xin any breathing room?

Moreover, Pei Yi had spent three months preparing to overthrow Meituan Waimai and Baidu Waimai; how could Chen Yansen possibly leave Wang Xin a way out?

Wang Xin wants to cash out and walk away? No such easy deal!

“As I understand, Sequoia’s Shen Nanpeng has been pushing for Meituan and Dazhong Dianping to merge, trying to reshape the local life services industry through capital consolidation,” Liu Qiangdong added.

He’d heard about it from Xu Xin of Jinri Capital, but Wang Xin and Zhang Tao both refused to submit to the other—no one wanted to be the junior partner, so the plan stalled.

“Probably just huddling together for warmth? The group-buying subsidy war raged from 2010 to 2012—two full years. The VCs behind it lost patience long ago. If not for Baidu’s interference, it would’ve ended already,” Chen Yansen said indifferently.

Ding Lei chuckled bitterly, thinking: You’re really thick-skinned and heartless—like Kuaipao never even touched group-buying.

“If you were willing to buy Dazhong Dianping and Meituan outright—or acquire them via equity swap—I’m sure Alibaba, Sequoia, Google, and Jinri Capital would all cheer.”

Zhang Zhaoyang said, eyes half-lidded. His implication: if Chen Yansen wanted to dominate the group-buying market quickly, buying them outright was the smart move.

“I have no intention of paying for the failed investments of Ma Liyun, Shen Nanpeng, and others,” Chen Yansen rejected the proposal.

No need to waste money—besides Dazhong Dianping and Meituan, there’s also Lashou.com.

Either way, Kuaipao fights one or three—it’s the same effort.

When competing with Lashou, Dazhong Dianping and Meituan will collapse naturally—saving capital too.

“Drinking’s boring. Should I call in some female stars?” Zhang Zhaoyang leaned back, whispering suggestively.

He turned his gaze to Chen Yansen, asking.

Last year, Sohu invested in several films and joined “The Voice of China”—with his status, he could easily summon a few rising stars.

Chen Yansen waved his hand—he found them dirty.

Zhang Zhaoyang, seeing this, gave up. The men drank and chatted.

Chen Yansen brought up the AuroraFutureOS system; after hearing his description, Leiyi Army, Ding Lei, Liu Qiangdong, and Wang Xiaochuan readily agreed to release AFOS-compatible software to bolster Orange Tech’s app ecosystem.

After several rounds of drinks, flushed and tipsy, Zhang Zhaoyang dragged a chair up to the mic and sang his signature song.

“The wind chime in the classroom, ding-dong, ding-dong, ringing,

Like your whispered confession, your movements so gentle…”

Liu Qiangdong grinned and brought up his plan to travel to Lighthouse Country for study and rest.

Chen Yansen opened his mouth, wanting to warn him: remember to record and photograph everything before you act, so you won’t be left with no proof later.

But the words died on his tongue—Liu Qiangdong was no novice in the dating scene; his experience matched Chen Yansen’s own. If he got fooled, it was his own fault.

But the words died on his lips—he was no stranger to the world of flirtation, and Jingzai Dong had just as much experience; to be outmaneuvered by a deliberate scheme was only natural.

“Xiao Chuan.”

“Sen-ge, speak.”

“I wasn’t joking just now—interested in joining Senlian Capital?” Chen Yansen draped an arm over Wang Xiaochuan’s shoulder, grinning.

Wang Xiaochuan instinctively glanced toward Zhang Zhaoyang, then chuckled: “Sen-ge, don’t test me—I’m comfortable at Sogou. Charles gives me full trust and great compensation.”

“Thirty-five isn’t young anymore. Staying at Sogou is a waste. Old Zhang is a good brother, a good boss—but he can’t give you a bigger stage.”

“Thirty-five, you’re not young anymore. Staying at Sogou is a waste. Old Zhang is a good elder brother, a good boss, but he can’t give you a bigger stage.”

“Contentment brings happiness. Let’s not talk about this. Sen-ge, I toast you! The recommendation engine in Lingxi Browser and Lingxi Search is excellent—what algorithms did you use?”

Wang Xiaochuan laughed, quickly changing the subject.

His boss was right there—facing Chen Yansen’s offer, he felt like he was stealing something.

When Zhang Zhaoyang finished his song, scattered applause echoed in the room.

After Zhang Zhaoyang finished his song, sparse applause echoed through the private room.

Chen Yansen waved him over.

Chen Yansen waved at him.

Zhang Zhaoyang walked over beaming, plopped down, took a sip of wine, then asked, “What’s up?”

“You sang well,” Chen Yansen replied.

“Of course I did—I practiced,” Zhang Zhaoyang said proudly.

“It’s late. I’m heading back to the hotel,” Chen Yansen continued.

“It’s only nine-thirty—why the rush?” Zhang Zhaoyang glanced at his watch and frowned.

“I have an interview tomorrow,” Chen Yansen lied casually.

“Don’t fool me—the interview’s recorded in the afternoon. You’re just bored with drinking, aren’t you? I feel the same. Why not take my private jet to Aodao for some fun?” Zhang Zhaoyang said enthusiastically.

“Forget it. Round-trip would take all night. I brought a few cases of wine—I told the driver to store them in the bar. Drink slowly,” Chen Yansen said.

“What about deep-sea fishing? Perfect time for it now,” Zhang Zhaoyang pressed on, his enthusiasm undimmed; seeing Chen Yansen wasn’t interested in gambling, he switched tactics.

Night is when big fish are most active, especially large sea fish—they’re easiest to hook.

“Fine,” Chen Yansen sighed. As he’d told Song Yuncheng, Zhang Zhaoyang was practically half his friend—he couldn’t keep turning him down.

“Let’s change venues—how about deep-sea fishing?” Zhang Zhaoyang turned to persuade the other four.

Ten minutes later, the group filed out, drove to the airport, flew to Jinmen, then boarded a boat to sea.

Less than an hour later, the group had traveled from the bustling center of Yancheng to the Bohai Bay.

Chen Yansen picked up a lure rod and taught Song Yuncheng how to fish for sea bass and seabream.

Even if the fish underwater refused the hook, with his spiritual sense, any fish swimming near him would obediently bite.

Zhang Zhaoyang watched Chen Yansen hugging the girl, reeling in fish one after another; his own plan to show off his fishing skills instantly collapsed.

Lei Yi Army, Liu Qiangdong, Ding Lei, and Wang Xiaochuan had all gone deep-sea fishing before, but never seen such a rapid catch rate.

Only at three a.m. did Chen Yansen and Song Yuncheng return to the hotel.

Song Yuncheng collapsed onto the bed, her eyelids drooping with sleep.

“Take a shower first,” Chen Yansen shook her head.

“Can’t… too tired,” Song Yuncheng mumbled drowsily.

Chen Yansen didn’t indulge her—he quickly stripped her bare as if peeling an egg, then carried her into the bathroom.

Soon, the empty luxury suite echoed with splashing sounds.

At dawn the next day, the sky was gray and hazy.

Chen Yansen picked up his phone from the bedside—only one and a half hours of sleep; his sleep duration had shrunk again.

Song Yuncheng was thoroughly worn out, limp and sprawled on the bed.

He pulled back the covers, slipped on slippers, left the bedroom, and sat straight down at the desk.

He turned on the computer and logged into the backend data.

Orange Pay’s daily active users had surged to 39 million!

The total number of users who collected all five Lucky Cards reached 1,941, averaging 43,000 Huayuan per person.

The price of the Diligence Card had plummeted from 6,000 to 2,700 Huayuan per card.

Thanks to this campaign, daily active users of products like ofo bikes, Pinbei, Kuai Pao, and Toutiao all rose noticeably.

Yu’e Bao’s fund size remained stable at 230 billion Huayuan!

Next, Chen Yansen opened his email and checked Mao Chaorong’s work report: Mimo’s total registered users exceeded 20 million, daily active users hovered around 8 million, and monthly advertising revenue reached 4.6 million U.S. dollars.

Mimo’s growth was even smoother than he’d imagined.

Despite Twitter’s heavy spending to acquire new users for Vine, its retention rate and user experience still couldn’t match Mimo’s.

Vine’s daily active users were barely over 1 million—now just another niche short-video app.

(End of Chapter)