Chapter 60: Didn

Freshman in college, two months, grew users from zero to a million, monthly sales nearing ten million?

After hearing Chen Yansen’s introduction to FoxTa, Ma Wenteng merely nodded slightly, his face showing no surprise.

With his vision, he’d seen too many geniuses; Chen Yansen was excellent, but not enough to move him.

Even the terrifying user-viral product of “zero-yuan price slashing” hadn’t stirred a ripple in his heart.

Would QQ lack users or traffic?

If he wished, he could launch any new product and pump in millions of exposures daily.

“So, on what grounds do you claim Paimai.com is a dead end?”

Ma Wenteng waved his hand and took the conversation himself.

“First, it lacks differentiated platform advantages: C-end users choose Taobao and JD, B-end users choose Alibaba and JD—what does Paimai.com have? It’s like three beef noodle shops on one street: Taobao’s noodles are affordable, JD’s are chewy, Paimai’s look decent and taste okay, but it loses because it has no distinctive character.”

Chen Yansen offhandedly remarked.

Within Tencent, Paimai.com held a deeply awkward position: the board wanted to grow it, but due to limited resources and inconsistent strategy, it never received Tier-0 support from the group.

It couldn’t grow big, yet couldn’t die either.

“What you said holds no value,” Ma Wenteng said, visibly disappointed.

Of course—what deep insight could a freshman possibly have?

“Second, Tencent lacks e-commerce DNA. In supply chain management, cultivating user shopping habits, platform operations, and merchant ecosystems, it has neither cared nor invested sufficient resources. If merchants can’t make a living, who will play along?”

Chen Yansen knew that for a comprehensive e-commerce platform, the core wasn’t traffic or resources, but ensuring all participants had a good experience: buyers received desired products, sellers made money.

Pinduoduo’s later rise proved this perfectly: as long as there was profit, merchants would risk fines and gamble anyway.

“Third—and most crucially—Paimai.com’s B2C business share is far too low; it’s almost entirely C2C. As long as human darkness exists, counterfeits in C2C models can never be eradicated. An e-commerce platform flooded with fakes—even backed by QQ—won’t attract a single customer.”

Chen Yansen sneered dismissively.

In his memory, every platform that dared to run C2C—besides the later Xiaohuangyu and Zhuanzhuan—ended up dying violently.

“So if I follow your advice, I shut down C2C and focus solely on B2C?” Ma Wenteng scoffed, rejecting Chen Yansen’s view.

“Brother Pony, Tencent’s core strength lies in connecting people and content—not running e-commerce platforms. Zheng Chunbin isn’t cut out for e-commerce, and neither are you.”

Chen Yansen shrugged, speaking plainly.

His words were too shocking and piercing; Liang Youzhi and Liu Zhiping beside him stared in disbelief—who could imagine that Brother Pony had just been openly rebuked by a freshman?

“Are you?” Ma Wenteng pushed his glasses up, his expression cold, clearly annoyed.

“If Paimai.com were in my hands, I could make its scale multiply several times in a year—but I have no interest in working for someone else.”

Chen Yansen spoke calmly, utterly unafraid.

“You met Zheng Chunbin to raise investment? Didn’t work out?” Ma Wenteng stood up, asking casually.

He hadn’t gotten the answer he wanted from Chen Yansen; in his view, Chen’s remarks were superficial—he knew these problems already, yet whenever it came to execution, everything turned into a mess.

Managers changed again and again, yet achieved nothing.

“Not at all. Brother Zheng invited me to join Paimai.com—I declined,” Chen Yansen rose as well, politely gesturing to see him off.

Zheng Chunbin was rejected?

This kid was truly arrogant!

Ma Huateng no longer wished to engage Chen Yansen; he felt the past fifteen minutes had been pure waste.

“Brother Pony thinks I’m wrong only because my status biases you. Let’s make a bet: I’ll grow FoxTa to 100 million users in one year.”

As Ma Huateng was about to walk out the door, Chen Yansen cut straight to his thoughts and threw out an irresistible hook.

He’d never expected three words could make a titan like Ma Wenteng bow his head; in novels, maybe—but in reality, even getting him to pause and speak two sentences was already luck.

Ma Huateng stopped, staring straight at Chen Yansen. The young man stood tall and handsome, eyes brimming with confidence, utterly unaware of what defeat meant. Their gaze met—firm, unwavering.

That look reminded him of his own early days of entrepreneurship—back then, he hadn’t possessed such unshakable certainty.

“Martin, tell the investment department to allocate ten million to test the results. Oh, what’s your product called?”

Ma Huateng turned and asked.

“Brother Pony, our product is called FoxTa.”

Chen Yansen had wanted to show off, to achieve the feat of rejecting Ma from Shenzhen—but unfortunately, the offer was too generous.

What did ten million mean?

Enough to scale the “zero-yuan price slashing” campaign ten or twenty times over!

Chen Yansen stared at Ma Huateng with a strange expression, muttering inwardly: Is this guy a masochist? My earlier advice didn’t move him, but after being rebuked, he’s now chasing me for investment?

What a sucker!

“Chen Yansen, right? I’m Liu Zhiping—you can call me Martin. Wait here a moment; I’ll have a colleague from the venture team meet you.”

Liu Zhiping patted Chen Yansen’s shoulder, smiling.

Ma Wenteng’s change in attitude gave him a glimmer of opportunity; naturally, he grew more appreciative of Chen Yansen, the one who’d triggered it.

Whether the ten million succeeded or not didn’t matter—what mattered was he saw a chance to persuade Ma Huateng and shift the group’s strategy.

“Thank you, Martin,” Chen Yansen shook his hand sincerely.

Ma Huateng said nothing, leading the group toward Zheng Chunbin’s office.

Once everyone had left, Song Yuncheng exhaled deeply. “That was terrifying! He’s a billionaire—how could you confront him face-to-face? Didn’t you fear he’d flip out?”

“With people like him, groveling only makes him resent you. Expressing disagreement appropriately makes him see you as unique. Look—you got ten million!”

“Besides, do you think I’m afraid he’ll block my QQ?”

Chen Yansen also exhaled, picking up a bottle of mineral water and taking a sip.

“Chen Yansen, you’re really amazing,” Song Yuncheng laughed, her tense nerves relaxing, genuinely awed.

When Chen Yansen had berated Zheng Chunbin, she’d been terrified—but now, against all odds, not only had the domain and IP bans been lifted, but they’d secured ten million in investment.

“Actually, I’m even better elsewhere,” Chen Yansen silently added in his mind.

As for the little blue pills—that was something he bought himself, so of course it counted as part of his strength.

The subsequent procedures moved faster than Chen Yansen imagined.

Perhaps because the sum was small, or perhaps because Pony himself had instructed it, Chen Yansen spent the entire day at Tencent, ate two free employee meals, and left with a funding contract in hand.

Ten million for 6% equity!

Though Tencent’s venture team, based on FoxTa’s business maturity, growth data, and market competition, had only offered an 80-million valuation, Chen Yansen had shut them down with one line: “I only needed two months—actually, just one week—to break past a million users.”

In truth, FoxTa was already the leader in the guide-commerce sector; its valuation naturally deserved another tier.

Future competitors like Mogujie, Meilishuo, and Shenme Zhidaomai either hadn’t been founded yet or were still exploring profit models—nowhere near FoxTa’s level.

Combined with Ma Wenteng’s personal intervention, the venture team’s contact, after careful consideration, still agreed to Chen Yansen’s terms.

Made it!

Riding QQ’s giant ship—who’d dare block his links again?

“Shall we head back to Xucheng now?” Song Yuncheng gently nudged Chen Yansen, whispering.

The day at Tencent had matured her; having met titans like Ma Wenteng and Liu Zhiping, she could now calmly present FoxTa’s development, current data, and future plans to the investment team.

“We go back tomorrow. You book the tickets—preferably an afternoon flight. Shenzhen’s a great place; I’ll take you out tonight as a reward for your hard work.”

Chen Yansen thought for a moment and replied.

“Boss, can we just get cash instead?” Song Yuncheng squinted, grinning sweetly, all charm.

“Song Yuncheng, if you’re so broke, why won’t you be my girlfriend? If you think the money’s too little, I’ll pay you twenty thousand a month.”

Chen Yansen said, genuinely puzzled.

“Stop! Don’t bring this up again—or else…” Song Yuncheng instinctively reached for her brick—but realized she hadn’t brought her bag, then frantically scanned the room for a weapon.

“Fine, fine! You’re such a bore,” Chen Yansen rolled his eyes, stepped two paces to the roadside, and flagged down a taxi.

After getting in, Chen Yansen asked the driver: “Master, where do rich people in Shenzhen go at night?”

“Definitely Sun Island! So many pretty girls, great figures—pure paradise for men!”

The driver, speaking local dialect, enthusiastically explained.

“Pretty girls? I brought one myself,” Chen Yansen pointed at Song Yuncheng.

“Then go to Window of the World, or Meisha Beach—those suit young people,” the driver switched to Mandarin, noticing Chen’s Cantonese was poor.

“Then Window of the World.”

Had he been alone, Chen Yansen would’ve chosen Sun Island—to test whether his eighteen-year-old stamina was sharp enough.

Under the night sky, Shenzhen glittered brilliantly, far more vibrant than Xucheng, a backwater city. Chen Yansen and Song Yuncheng wandered Window of the World, then strolled the beach, breathing the sea breeze until traffic thinned, before returning to the hotel.

“Song Yuncheng, come here!”

Chen Yansen walked into the room and saw Song Yuncheng hunched over her laptop, preparing to book tickets. He waved her over.

“What?” Song Yuncheng dashed over, laptop in hand, assuming he had more work to assign.

“I haven’t given you your final reward yet,” Chen Yansen said mysteriously.

“Can we cash it out…” Song Yuncheng hadn’t finished when Chen Yansen covered her mouth.

Having learned from last time, she immediately bit down—but Chen Yansen stepped back, evading her attack.

“Wangcai! Good night!”

Chen Yansen grinned triumphantly, waved, and walked straight back to his room.

Song Yuncheng stood frozen, staring at the half-brick still in her bag—then, unable to bring herself to smash his skull, lowered her weapon.

Meanwhile.

In Entrepreneurship Park rooms 206, 208, and 204, lights blazed brightly. Upon learning Chen Yansen had resolved the link-blocking issue, everyone erupted in cheers, releasing two days of pent-up frustration.

“Brother Sen said Tencent invested ten million in our project!”

At his computer, Zhuang Rui hesitated, then added, “When I saw this message, my first thought was that I’d misread it; my second was that Chen Yansen was joking.”

“How much did you say?” Zhang Wenbo stood frozen, utterly stunned.

The others’ expressions were much the same.

Today should be the final day of the new book ranking—peaked at #17, failed to enter the top 10; how could one not feel regretful! Thank you all for your support!

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(End of Chapter)