Chapter 383: Daily Sales Reach 50.7 Billion! Bug Incident: Fulfill or Cancel Orders?

At 10:30 p.m., Zhu Xianzhuang Technology Park.

Except for Building Five and Building Six, which still glowed with light, employees of Orange Tech, Today Tech, and Orange Pay had long gone home; the buildings were pitch black inside and out.

“These bastards! Trying to scam me out of overtime pay again!”

Chen Yansen sat in a wicker chair on the rooftop balcony, a faint smile on his lips, muttering softly.

Does Boss Chen care about that little overtime pay?

Of course not!

Pindai’s monthly gross profit reaches three billion Huayuan; even if everyone worked around the clock, salaries would be a drop in the ocean for the company.

But today is the “38 Good Things Festival,” a promotion level Suibuji 618, Double Eleven, or Double Twelve, but still the most important e-commerce event of Q1.

Pindai’s traditional promotion ritual has always been: barbecue, hot pot, beer, and Chen Yansen’s braised snacks.

Like a mascot!

Chen Yansen silently grumbled.

As the boss, he naturally had to stay at the company to hold the fort.

Otherwise, he’d already be back at Sanjiaozhou studying Meng Jie or Song Yuncheng’s lock mechanisms, or heading to Master Ye’s house for a bowl of authentic Sichuan-style sweet soup.

Smelling the barbecue aroma rising from the first floor, Chen Yansen patted his belly, about to head downstairs for a late snack, when his desk phone vibrated.

“Boss, still awake?” Liao Wei ventured cautiously.

“What’s up? Want to tell me a bedtime story?” Chen Yansen joked.

Liao Wei grinned: “If the boss needs one, I’m not opposed.”

“Enough nonsense. Get to the point,” Chen Yansen said.

“The thirteen used passenger jets from Air China have just been delivered. As before, they’ll be sent to Temasek for retrofitting and are expected to enter service in July,” Liao Wei explained calmly.

He finished the official update, then moved to the main topic: “Air China has a brand-new Gulfstream G550 business jet available for just $46 million.”

“Same as Ma Liyun’s?” Chen Yansen asked.

Earlier this year, Old Ma had bought a Gulfstream G550 for $49.7 million bundled.

Zhang Zhaoyang had told him that.

Liao Wei chuckled: “That’s right! This jet was originally ordered by the CEO of Suntech Group through Air China, but last year their cash flow broke down—they’re desperate for cash now and want to sell it.”

Suntech?

Chen Yansen recalled the company’s basic details in under a second, since Yunsu Express had acquired several packaging factories owned by its subsidiaries.

“$46 million isn’t expensive. I’ll have Old Gao contact you later,” Chen Yansen said after a moment’s thought.

A new Gulfstream G550 costs about $50 million; a used one runs around $30 million.

We can buy it under Senlian Capital’s name and register it under Yunsu Express’s fleet, saving some management and maintenance costs.

With business travel increasing, acquiring a private jet is perfectly reasonable.

As for used aircraft, Boss Chen wouldn’t even consider them.

Whether cars or planes, Boss Chen never uses secondhand goods.

“Understood, Boss. Get some rest,” Liao Wei replied.

Chen Yansen put his phone away, stood up, and headed toward the elevator, planning to make one last round before heading home.

“Ding.” The elevator doors slowly opened.

“Boss!”

“Sen Ge!”

Several employees from the Business Operations Department greeted him eagerly.

Chen Yansen nodded slightly and spotted Zhang Yifeng, Chen Xu, Li Hui, and Yuan Wei huddled together, grilling and drinking.

In reality, e-commerce promotions always follow this pattern: once the groundwork is done, there’s little to do on the day itself.

“Sen Ge!” Li Hui immediately put down his beer and skewers, dragged over a chair, and placed it directly in front of the group.

Chen Yansen didn’t refuse; he sat down, took the beer from Zhang Yifeng, took a long gulp, then asked: “Has the 3 billion arrived?”

Zhang Yifeng and Yuan Wei exchanged glances, then shook their heads.

“Sen Ge, our daily sales are already 1.2 billion Huayuan—how much more should this promotion bring? Boss Huang said if we don’t hit 4 billion, our Q1 performance bonus gets cut,” Chen Xu spoke up.

“Sen Ge, we’re already at 4.83 billion—probably around 5 billion,” Li Hui, the most honest, didn’t dare tease the boss and answered truthfully.

Chen Yansen was slightly surprised, thinking: the golden age of e-commerce is drawing nearer.

“If we hit the 5-billion target, I’ll raise your Q1 bonus multiplier by 0.2,” Chen Yansen said casually.

“Thank you, Sen Ge!”

Hearing this, the group beamed and replied in unison.

More than an hour until midnight—just two hundred million more. Easy.

They knew this was just the boss’s excuse for a raise.

Pindai officially pays twelve salaries a year, but with four quarterly bonuses, the minimum is sixteen, the maximum twenty-four.

Every major promotion brings extra rewards.

For example, Zhang Yifeng earned twenty-six months’ salary last year.

“It’s late. I’m heading home. You guys keep going.”

Chen Yansen sat for only a few minutes, waved goodbye, and turned to leave.

Meanwhile.

Liu Qiangdong, though in the Lighthouse Nation, couldn’t stop monitoring JD’s promotion performance.

In a luxury apartment, he leaned back on the sofa, eyes locked on his computer screen.

The data dashboard clearly showed JD’s “38 Promotion” total sales: 2.27 billion.

Neither impressive nor disappointing—just average.

Liu Qiangdong exhaled deeply, turned his head toward the kitchen, and saw a slender figure.

High ponytail, pure and cute—she made him feel like he’d stepped back twenty years, reliving his youthful bliss.

One can’t hold onto youth forever, but one can still catch its scent in a young body.

Lianzai Dong thoroughly enjoyed his recent life.

“Lao Liu, hand me a bottle of red wine—I’m simmering a broth,” the girl’s clear, sweet voice rang out.

Lianzai Dong snapped back, walking straight to the wine cabinet.

At this moment, in China, midnight had just passed; Pindai’s final sales figure settled at 5.06 billion.

In a rented apartment in Jin Ling, Li Chang rushed to buy a long-desired ukulele just before the event ended—for 390 yuan.

He was about to shut his computer and sleep, when he noticed a new group-buying page on JD’s homepage.

JD is doing group buying now?

Curious, Li Chang clicked into JD’s group-buying channel—the UI looked just like Kuai Pao’s.

The categories were mostly hotels and travel packages.

He scrolled through a few pages idly.

Suddenly, his hand froze. He rubbed his eyes, staring at the screen.

“Cherry Ancient City Romantic Getaway: Stay at a Five-Star Hotel, Three Days, Two Nights, Free Travel.”

The package included attraction tickets and hotel accommodation.

Most crucially—the price was only one yuan!

Is JD insane?

He didn’t overthink it: clicked buy, entered his phone number, submitted the order, paid—all in one smooth motion.

Soon, his phone received a group-buying coupon notification from JD.

Not a flash sale?

It’s a bug!

Li Chang immediately realized the platform staff had set the price wrong. Without hesitation, he changed his order quantity to 999 units.

To his amazement, the payment went through successfully again.

Original price: 999 yuan. Now: one yuan.

Even if he couldn’t use them all, he could list them online—two nights at a five-star hotel, priced at 500 yuan, would be snapped up instantly.

A thousand units meant 500,000 yuan!

Li Chang breathed heavily, face flushed, too excited to sleep.

“Ding-ding-ding!”

The constant alert tones on his phone interrupted his thoughts.

Since JD sent one group-buying coupon message per purchase, and he’d just bought 999 of them,

meaning hundreds more messages were still en route.

His phone was getting hotter!

Afraid it might explode, he quickly removed the back cover and popped out the battery.

Seeing the group-buying item still available, he bought another 2,000 units.

At the same time, he wasn’t the only one who spotted the JD bug—users across the country began Fengkuangxiadan .

In just half an hour, the group-buying item sold 50,000 units.

Only when inventory ran out did users regret it, slapping their thighs: Why didn’t I buy more?

Many users who’d snagged the deal feared JD would cancel orders, so they Lianye listed the items on Taobao’s secondhand site (the predecessor of Xiao Huangyu).

The price ranged from a maximum of 600 yuan to a minimum of 10 yuan.

“Idiot! Do you have any brains? Selling it so cheap!”

Li Chang had originally planned to list it at 500 yuan, but after seeing a sea of prices at 10, 50, and 100 yuan, he changed the price to 88 yuan outright.

Two nights at a five-star hotel, plus admission to the Cherry Blossom Ancient City gate, all for just 88 yuan—dozens sold instantly.

That night was a Kuanghuan for Yangmaodang , while Jingdong remained oblivious.

Li Chang stayed up all night, staring at the projected income of over thirty thousand yuan, his grin stretching from ear to ear.

At nine a.m., Sun Yang, the operations manager responsible for Jingdong’s group-buying channel and travel products, opened the backend data and broke into ecstatic smiles.

On the first day of the campaign, the best-selling product sold fifty thousand units.

This month’s performance bonus is guaranteed!

When his peripheral vision caught the transaction amount column, he froze completely.

Why is it only 50,000 yuan?

And the average order price? It was one yuan!

Fuck!

What the hell is going on!

Sun Yang’s hands trembled uncontrollably; he couldn’t even hold the mouse.

He realized a bug had occurred—and it was massive.

In moments, he sorted his thoughts and found the culprit in the operation logs.

A recent intern from the testing team had accidentally linked a test product’s URL to the production environment.

Losses reached as high as 50 million yuan!

Luckily, it had nothing to do with him!

But he knew deep down—this month’s performance bonus was gone.

“Damn, what a genius!”

Sun Yang, torn between laughter and tears, compressed the compiled data and sent it straight to his supervisor.

“What’s this? Group-buying channel’s first-day data?” the supervisor asked, puzzled.

“Boss, Zhang Jianhao from the testing team accidentally linked a test product to the production environment,” Sun Yang explained.

“Fuck! Is he an idiot? Take the product down immediately!” The supervisor snapped awake.

“Sold out,” Sun Yang replied.

“What? Sold out? What was the inventory?” the supervisor pressed.

“Fifty thousand,” Sun Yang answered instantly.

“...” The supervisor’s heart turned to ash; he wanted to grab a knife and kill someone right there.

He stormed out of his office, sprinted to the testing team’s workspace, and yelled: “Are you people trying to ruin us?”

Though the testing team bore most of the blame, didn’t the operations staff share responsibility for failing to spot the buggy product in time?

The bosses upstairs didn’t care about any of that!

The news reached Xu Lei instantly. His face turned icy, eyes smoldering, his right hand clenched so tight his knuckles cracked, teeth grinding together.

The boss had been studying in Lighthouse Country for less than a month, and already chaos erupted below.

How could he explain this to Liu Qiangdong?

Would the group-buying channel’s debut day become an industry joke?

Xu Lei’s scalp prickled like an electric shock. After a moment’s thought, he summoned the heads of the tech and customer service departments.

“Cancel all orders. If customers complain, compensate each with a 10-yuan Jingdong voucher—no conditions. For those with strong complaints, give 20 yuan,” Xu Lei ordered coldly.

“Cancel all? I checked the data—23,000 users are involved. If this triggers a mass complaint, the market supervision association will be calling me for tea,” the customer service head growled.

“Don’t cancel? Are you planning to fulfill all orders? Do you know how much we’d lose?” Xu Lei shot back.

If it were five million, he’d grit his teeth and accept it!

But fifty million? That could choke him to death.

“Call the boss and sync up. I don’t support acting unilaterally,” the tech head said gravely.

“I agree,” the customer service head chimed in.

This wasn’t his problem.

The testing and operations teams for the group-buying channel were the ones who should take the fall.

If he endorsed Xu Lei’s plan and the top boss later blamed him, he’d get dragged in—and probably get yelled at too.

“The boss has entrusted me fully with daily company operations,” Xu Lei said, displeased.

“Boss Xu, what if your opinion clashes with the boss’s?” the customer service head urged.

“This incident carries serious weight. I suggest you consult the boss first,” the tech head added.

Xu Lei, furious that they refused to follow his orders, clenched his fists.

After they left his office, he pulled out his phone, hesitated a moment, then called Liu Qiangdong.

On the other end.

Liu Qiangdong was fast asleep, arms wrapped around a soft, youthful girl, feeling as if he’d returned to twenty years ago—but his body could never go back.

The phone on the table rang for dozens of seconds, waking the girl in his arms, but Liang Zai Dong still snored loudly.

“Lao Liu! Lao Liu! Lao Liu!” The girl knew his identity and shook his shoulder hard, fearing he’d miss an important call.

Liu Qiangdong blinked open his eyes groggily, his waist feeling weak. He stared at the pure-looking girl and asked instinctively: “Xiao Tian, what’s wrong?”

“Your phone rang. Three times in a row,” Zhang Jintian whispered.

Liang Zai Dong cursed under his breath, picked up the bedside phone, saw the caller ID, and pressed answer.

“A product worth 1,000 yuan sold fifty thousand units?” After hearing Xu Lei’s report, Liu Qiangdong jolted awake, instantly alert.

Fulfill or cancel the orders?

Liu Qiangdong frowned deeply, caught in a painful dilemma.

……

……

“Has Jingdong entered the group-buying arena?”

Chen Yan was lounging on a soft recliner beside the pool when he received a call from Huang Zheng and learned about the one-yuan product bug.

(End of Chapter)