Chapter 62: Let the Bullets Fly, Earn Your Money Standing Tall

After Hu Zi left, Li Dongling flipped through Dongling High-Tech’s business documents; currently, Dongling High-Tech had three main projects: mice, digital cordless telephones, and electronic pets.

The mice had already been launched; now the focus was on increasing production capacity and promoting them overseas. If the Silver Mink mouse couldn’t enter the international market, cooperating with domestic firms like Lenovo and Great Wall could still achieve expected sales, with projected annual revenue around forty million yuan and profits exceeding fifteen million yuan.

But this depended on who the competitors were—Logitech, Microsoft, Japanese, or German mouse brands. To match or surpass them technologically required continuous R&D investment; otherwise, once its current reputation was exhausted, it would be quickly eliminated.

Relying solely on the domestic mouse market, the Silver Mink mouse would struggle to compete with Logitech or Microsoft; it absolutely needed to go overseas or partner with major computer brands, which meant investing more funds into R&D and advertising abroad.

The digital cordless telephone was still under development; only after its mid-year release could sales performance be assessed. The electronic pet device would be launched within one or two months after its development was completed.

The digital cordless telephone, along with the acquired Feiyan radio production line, which would later be repurposed for mini radios and car radios, were long-term projects. If executed well, they could establish a brand, win user acceptance, and provide Dongling High-Tech with stable cash flow for at least ten years.

Once the digital cordless telephone, mini radio, and car radio projects were established with steady cash flow, Dongling High-Tech would essentially be stabilized.

Li Dongling was also considering what kind of company Dongling High-Tech should become in the future; amid the tides of change, reputation was judged by posterity, but how to act now was his own decision.

His pen continuously scratched across the paper, while various thoughts flashed through Li Dongling’s mind.

Finally, several circled words appeared on the paper before him: first and foremost, computers and mobile phones, followed by several other terms.

Li Dongling frowned, staring at the words he’d written; entering any of these industries—computers, mobile phones, or the others—was simple, but how to do it well was another matter entirely.

In today’s domestic tech industry, most companies merely assembled machines; even computers branded as “domestic,” like the one from the company where Academician Ni worked, were actually assembled from imported components and labeled as domestic products.

Most of the profit from selling such a computer was taken by foreign manufacturers of processors, graphics cards, memory, motherboards, and screens, plus patent fees, technology fees, and licensing fees paid to foreign firms, leaving only a meager margin.

Even that tiny margin included production costs, management fees, logistics, labor, equipment maintenance, and more—this was why so many companies fought with employees over wages: the profit was so thin that only one side, boss or worker, could make money.

This path was the easiest; if Dongling High-Tech were willing to work as a contractor for foreign firms, import components, assemble them, slap on a label, and claim “independent R&D,” it could leverage the Silver Mink mouse’s reputation and likely harvest a large crop of unsuspecting investors.

But eating this meal meant you couldn’t stand up or look up—if foreign component suppliers stopped selling parts, you’d immediately collapse.

Or, if Dongling High-Tech attempted to develop its own components to replace imports, it would likely be immediately surrounded, hunted down, and crushed by foreign manufacturers.

Whether to kneel while eating or take the hardest path—risking total financial ruin—now lay before Li Dongling.

He exhaled slowly, gazing thoughtfully at the nearly half-filled page, then picked up his pen and wrote several heavy characters on it.

Taking the second path required massive R&D funding; with Dongling High-Tech’s current resources, it couldn’t even compete with domestic tech giants, let alone challenge foreign tech titans.

Build high walls, stockpile grain, delay proclaiming kingship—this was the most suitable strategy for Dongling High-Tech now; if it loudly declared it would challenge the giants right away, it would be crushed in one blow.

Dongling High-Tech needed to become an indispensable entity like Intel or Qualcomm—so essential that other tech firms couldn’t operate without it. A mechanical mouse wasn’t enough; future products needed to include memory cards, solid-state drives, USB drives—so even if companies wanted to break away, they couldn’t.

Li Dongling wanted Dongling High-Tech to ultimately earn its money standing tall.

Li Dongling went to the courtyard behind Dongling High-Tech used for recreation and leisure; it was now busier than before, with Gao Peng, Zhang Ao, and their friends from the Jiashuyuan occasionally dropping by.

When Li Dongling entered, Yao Luoying and several girls were playing pool; the room with the karaoke machine had people screaming every day.

Entering the room with the VCR, he saw newly placed punching bags and other fitness equipment—he sometimes came here to train.

Zhang Ao, Gao Peng, Fan Xugang, and a group of men were intently watching the VCR screen; Li Dongling glanced and saw it wasn’t some Hollywood or American movie, but two men fighting.

Tyson versus Smith, known as the “Bone Crusher”; Smith’s punches were brutal, and no opponent had ever walked off the ring whole after facing him—but against Tyson, Smith couldn’t escape defeat, ultimately handing Tyson the WBC/WBA dual world heavyweight championship.

This boxing VHS tape had been smuggled into China; though Hollywood films grabbed attention, nothing stirred men’s nerves like this raw, bloody, flesh-to-flesh violence—of course, things like donkey hoof trimming, Odibiao’s three-eight-bar banana pulling, and knife-forging contests were also men’s romance…

At the punching bag, under Yang Zhi’s guidance, Li Dongling began practicing boxing; Yang Zhi wasn’t a professional boxer, but his combat skills were stronger. Before cameras covered every street, public security was truly poor—otherwise, the Mad Dog Fist created by Master Chen wouldn’t have become so famous.

Sweating profusely, Li Dongling returned to his nearby residence, took a hot shower, sat down, and turned on the TV—when suddenly, a knock came at the door.

Opening the door, he saw Yao Luoying standing there, fresh and bright; he was startled. Seeing his expression, Yao Luoying, hands behind her back, tilted her head slightly and looked up at him. “What, not glad to see me?”

“Come in!” Li Dongling laughed, opened the door wider, and stepped aside for her.

Yao Luoying walked in, looking around the courtyard—it was her first time entering Li Dongling’s residence.

Externally, it was an old-style house, but inside, the living room was fully modernized, with more electronics and furniture than she’d seen in any Hong Kong household during her studies at Hong Kong University.

“Want some fruit?”

Standing beside the stereo system, Yao Luoying was examining a stack of records: The Beatles, Nirvana, Pulp, and domestic bands Beyond and Black Panther. Hearing Li Dongling, she held up the record in her hand. “Anything’s fine—your collection’s huge!”

“Gao Peng got them for me!”

These records were rare in China, but with money, they could still be acquired through various channels.

Sitting on the sofa, Yao Luoying felt herself sinking into it; she knew this sofa was expensive. With her father Yao Zhengru and mother Han Liuping’s status and salary, buying an imported luxury sofa was no problem—but Yao’s home often hosted visitors, sometimes even municipal leaders like Luo Junwu; having such a conspicuous sofa would be too obvious.

She shifted slightly, comfortably leaning back, bit into an orange, and the slightly tart flavor made her eyes close in pleasure.

She exhaled, drank some water, glanced around the room, then leaned slightly toward Li Dongling. “You live here alone?”

Li Dongling nodded. “My younger sister, Li Dongyue, comes over to stay on her days off.”

Yao Luoying looked at him, asking casually, “What about your girlfriend at Hanxi Jiaotong University? You must have one there.”

Hearing this, Li Dongling turned to her. Yao Luoying met his gaze, then instinctively looked away.

A silence settled. Thinking of An Ruxue, whom he hadn’t contacted in some time, Li Dongling finally shook his head. “What about you?”

“Me?”

Yao Luoying pouted. “When I was studying in Hong Kong, my dad and mom kept calling every few days, terrified I wouldn’t come back. I was swamped with coursework—no time for romance!”

She stretched, revealing her curves, making Li Dongling glance a little longer.

As she pulled back, she noticed something in the corner, stood up, and picked up a harmonica. “You play this?”

Seeing the harmonica, Li Dongling paused, remembering summer nights at Hanxi Jiaotong University, when he’d once played it for someone on the grass.

Yao Luoying returned to the sofa, handed him the harmonica, and looked at him expectantly.

After hesitation, Li Dongling took it, placed it to his lips, and a mournful melody drifted out—Yao Luoying recognized it as “Hometown’s Original Scenery,” a song popular years ago and used in many TV dramas.

When the song ended and Li Dongling lowered the harmonica, Yao Luoying snapped back to reality, looked up at him, their eyes locking. Her red lips parted slightly, her throat moved.

Seeing her reddening cheeks, Li Dongling leaned closer. Seeing his face draw near, Yao Luoying wanted to pull away, but her body stiffened—finally, she closed her eyes.

As Li Dongling leaned in, their lips met, soft and warm. Yao Luoying’s breath quickened.

“Luoying!”

Someone called her name outside the courtyard—it was her friend, inviting her back to the municipal Jiashuyuan . The shout startled her; blushing, she jumped up, frantically adjusting her clothes. “I should go!”

“I’ll have Lao Yang drive you back.”

Watching Yao Luoying’s retreating figure, Li Dongling wiped his lips—he’d need another cold shower tonight to sleep.