Chapter 386: Leiyi Army: Is It Wrong to Just Want to Survive

North Ice Country is vast but sparsely populated; apart from Moscow, everyone else in the remaining regions is poor.

Even Apple sells only 100,000 units per month in North Ice Country.

Of course, Orange Phone’s sales are concentrated in low-end models; its performance in the mid-range market still cannot match Shanxing and Apple.

Chen Yansen multitasked, listening to the work report while flipping through the East European market competitor pricing monitor and store foot traffic analysis report.

Next, market managers from various countries successively raised issues such as customs delays, system language optimization progress, and local marketing material review mechanisms.

Zhou Shouzhi calmly understood, analyzed, grasped the situation, and then proposed solutions.

Excellent managers always have a tightly logical methodology; if the thinking is right, the direction won’t go wrong.

Chen Yansen looked at Old Zhou and nodded in satisfaction, thinking: No wonder Leiyi Army is so frugal day-to-day, yet still gives Zhou Shouzhi a raise and stock options.

This guy’s execution ability is truly outstanding!

In February, total sales in the East European market reached 405,000 units.

Next, Orange Tech will continue to increase marketing campaign density and strengthen channel development.

For example, launching summer student discounts, finalizing revenue-sharing agreements with Romanian carriers, and advancing preparations for opening the Serbia direct store.

One hour later, the monthly East European market meeting for Orange Phone ended.

Seeing that the boss had said nothing throughout, Zhou Shouzhi quietly asked after everyone had left: “Boss, do you have any new instructions for East European market expansion?”

“You’ve done well in channel network construction, brand promotion, and local operations, but the proportion of low-end models is too high. Low-priced products can open the market, but you can’t rely on low-price strategies long-term.”

Chen Yansen spoke calmly.

“Understood, Boss. I’ll revise the East European market expansion plan right away,” Zhou Shouzhi replied immediately.

“Has the new product launch date been set?” Chen Yansen asked again.

“March 18th at 2 p.m., Sky Garden,” Zhou Shouzhi answered.

“AuroraFuture OS is making its debut—keep an eye on it for me, don’t let anything go wrong,” Chen Yansen patted Old Zhou on the shoulder and warned.

“Don’t worry. Wang Teng and Ye Qiuping and I will re-check the entire process before next week,” Zhou Shouzhi nodded.

Chen Yansen grunted, stood up, and walked out of the conference room.

He glanced out the window: the sky was ablaze with clouds, shimmering with light, and distant rapeseed fields were lush and green.

He looked at his watch: 4:15 p.m.

Back in his office, Chen Zong plopped down, waved his hand, and a chilled Coca-Cola flew automatically into his palm.

“Ssshh!”

Chen Yansen took a huge gulp, then propped his feet on the desk, leaned back into the plush boss chair, and leisurely scrolled through Mimo short videos.

It has to be said that the recommendation algorithm developed by Zhang Yiming and Liang Bo is truly unique, making users more and more addicted the more they scroll.

North American video bloggers, chasing views, turned borderline content into all sorts of gimmicks.

Chen Zong idly scrolled for hours, then couldn’t help but mutter: So slick.

Mimo’s video content and value orientation were overly vulgar, but that precisely matched local users’ tastes.

Cumulative registered users exceeded thirty million, daily active users surpassed ten million.

Twitter’s Vine short video platform was no match for Mimo at all.

Meanwhile.

A major news broke: Microsoft is about to acquire Nokia’s mobile business, with an estimated purchase price exceeding seven billion U.S. dollars!

It instantly sparked shock online!

Although Nokia had lost its luster after the failure of Symbian, its global smartphone shipments still ranked second last year.

With 330 million units sold, it was only fifty million units behind the leader—yet now it’s reduced to selling itself?

In reality, Nokia’s sales figures looked high, but over 70% were feature phones—a paper tiger!

Microsoft’s motive for acquiring Nokia was simple.

First, seize mobile market share to counter Apple and Google, and boost Windows Phone’s market penetration.

Second, Nokia holds 8,500 design patents and 30,000 utility patents; acquiring these key patents would strengthen Microsoft’s competitiveness.

In short, Microsoft wanted to use Nokia’s mobile market to drive the ecosystem development of Windows Phone.

To Microsoft, a mobile operating system was just a system—technically not hard—and there was no reason to cede the market to Android and iOS.

As the former dominant system in the PC era, it naturally wanted to secure its position in the mobile era too.

Spending tens of billions of Huayuan just to fight for mobile market share was truly shocking.

Although Orange Tech’s AuroraFuture OS had not been released, rumors had already spread through the industry.

“If we want to popularize AuroraFuture OS, it won’t be easy—Windows Phone is coming strong, and Android and iOS have already dominated.”

After hearing this, Lei Zong chuckled and shook his head.

He trusted Orange Tech’s R&D strength, and Chen Yansen’s operational and business acumen—but replacing Android or iOS was as difficult as turning heaven and earth upside down.

“I’ve submitted the production plans for the Xiaomi 2A and Xiaomi 2S to the Orange Phone factory; equipment debugging is expected to finish by mid-March,” Li Wanqiang interjected.

To him, developing a proprietary operating system was exhausting and unrewarding—he didn’t understand why Chen Yansen was pouring so much manpower, material, and capital into it.

The smartphone industry chain was countless: from CPU to GPU, camera, storage chips, and batteries—each module involved tens of thousands of patents.

Why not just buy them outright?

“For these two models, only 5,000 units will run AuroraFuture OS—has Orange Tech said anything?” Lei Zong asked.

“No,” Li Wanqiang replied.

Hearing this, Lei Zong secretly exhaled in relief, fearing he’d offended Chen Yansen.

“Boss, Orange Tech’s new product launch is set for March 18th,” Li Wanqiang reminded.

“Alright, I know,” Lei Zong said.

On the other side.

In the brightly lit Xiaomi headquarters building, in the MIUI department’s office area, Li Xingwei stared blankly, his face grim.

The computer in front of him was dark—the screen was off, clearly not in use.

He was one of Xiaomi’s founding team members, employee ID 12, a core MIUI system developer.

“Let’s start by customizing Android; once Xiaomi phones capture a certain market share domestically, we’ll leverage our terminal advantage to build our own domestic smartphone OS,” the vision Lei Zong had painted for him when he first joined kept flashing in his mind.

He came from Microsoft and had once participated in Windows Phone system development.

He joined Xiaomi primarily because of the generous salary and attractive stock options, but also because he wanted to build a pure, homegrown operating system.

But two weeks ago, Lei Zong announced that MIUI would stop iterating and upgrading.

In other words, the boss had decided to abandon MIUI.

His team either had to transfer to Xiaomi’s app ecosystem department, or stay put to maintain existing users’ systems, only to be slowly discarded by the company.

“Ah Wei, what are you thinking about?”

At that moment, Sun Peng, another core MIUI developer, nudged his shoulder.

“Peng Ge, if even the Xiaomi 2A and 2S won’t use MIUI, is this department still necessary?” Li Xingwei asked with a bitter smile.

“Ah Wei, you’re an employee—just have something to do! Don’t worry, with your skills, you’ll land a general manager position in the app ecosystem department for sure,” Sun Peng said dismissively.

“But what about MIUI?” Li Xingwei countered.

“Isn’t there AuroraOS?” Sun Peng shrugged.

Li Xingwei laughed silently, at a loss for words.

After a long pause, he said to Sun Peng: “Peng Ge, take care.”

“Ah Wei, what do you mean?” Sun Peng opened his mouth, surprise flashing in his eyes.

“I’m quitting!”

With that, Li Xingwei strode off in the direction of Lei Yijun’s office.

“Quitting?”

Three minutes later, Lei Zong looked at his capable subordinate, puzzled: “Why?”

Li Xingwei was one of Xiaomi’s first employees; Lei Zong remembered clearly that on the day Xiaomi was founded, he had personally handed him a steaming bowl of millet porridge.

He’d spoken a few bold words then, delighted to have recruited a senior Windows Phone R&D engineer.

Now, barely three years later, the man wanted to quit?

“Boss, if MIUI is being abandoned, what’s left for me to do?” Li Xingwei stared intently at Lei Zong.

“I’m setting up a Xiaomi Internet Operations Department—you’ll be its general manager, overseeing the Xiaomi browser business,” Lei Zong said seriously.

“MIUI is only temporarily struggling—isn’t giving up too soon?” Li Xingwei couldn’t help but challenge.

“Xiaomi must survive first, before it can pursue independent R&D. Do you understand?” Lei Zong snorted, leaned back, and his tone grew sharper.

“Boss, thank you for your trust and favor, but I’m stubborn—please approve my resignation.”

Li Xingwei suddenly stood up, bluntly pressing.

Lei Zong took a deep breath, suppressing his urge to explode, and waved his hand: “I understand. Leave.”

He knew perfectly well what Li Xingwei felt—but developing a proprietary OS wasn’t something you could accomplish by just talking.

Was Microsoft’s influence not strong enough?

After three years online, its market share was still only 5%.

To boost user adoption, Microsoft even spent seven billion U.S. dollars to buy Nokia’s mobile business.

Does Xiaomi have sales?

Does Xiaomi have capital?

What the hell is he supposed to use to build it?

Who doesn’t want to use a proprietary OS to build a moat around their own product ecosystem?

Li Xingwei left with his head hung low.

“Fuck, is it wrong to just want to survive?” Lei Yijun screamed silently in his heart, eyes red.

Damn Zhou Hongyi!

Always gnawing on Xiaomi!

Lei Yijun was desperate to win just once!

During this business restructuring, Li Xingwei became the first to leave Xiaomi’s thirteen-member founding team.

……

……

“Li Xingwei? Take it. I’ll make you my deputy.”

After listening to Wang Teng’s report, Chen Yan didn’t think twice—he hired Li Xingwei.

Orange Tech’s system R&D department had already split into two teams: AuroraOS and AuroraFutureOS; the former focused on deep Android customization, the latter on AuroraFutureOS version upgrades.

“Understood, boss. Should I place him in AuroraFutureOS?” Wang Teng asked Chen Yan’s opinion.

“Fine,” Chen Yan replied.

In just a few words, Li Xingwei’s entire career path was decided.

To Chen Yan, Li Xingwei’s arrival didn’t warrant much attention.

After all, Orange Tech’s tech department and AI lab were filled with senior engineers from Microsoft, Google, Oracle, and other companies.

Li Xingwei’s resume was decent, but far from impressive enough to merit serious consideration.

Time flew by, and Orange Tech’s spring product launch proceeded as scheduled.

(End of chapter)