Chapter 357: The Weike That Switched from Rifles to Artillery, the Surrendered Sina, the Yan Clan

In May, Weike officially completed its share exchange preparations and fundraising efforts.

This time, Weike not only brought in multiple powerful partners to safeguard the company and pave the way for its IPO, but also raised approximately $500 million.

$500 million, equivalent to nearly 3.5 billion RMB, was an enormous sum for Weike, a relatively light-asset platform.

Yan Li's requirements for this money were simple.

Spend it to transform the existing lead into an insurmountable absolute advantage.

At this stage, Weike had already established a strong lead, but Sina Weike and Penguin Taotao had not given up, pursuing Weike through various means.

This was why Weike raised so much money.

It was to wage a war of spending against these two, maintain the advantage, while intensifying competition and forcing both to exit the Weike battle through excess costs.

Even before the contract was finalized, Yan Li and Weike had already agreed on how to use the money.

First, smash it into technology!

This was the top priority; Weike had always emphasized this, doing everything possible to ensure user experience and functional infrastructure.

Yan Li was not from an internet company background; Weike had been founded only recently and lacked deep technical roots.

So Yan Li placed great importance on this and was willing to pour money into related R&D and optimization; he often muttered in the company, "Science and technology are the primary productive force."

Many Weike employees joked that although Boss Yan didn't understand technology, he respected it more than many bosses who came from technical backgrounds.

Since Weike's founding, Yan Li had meddled in marketing, content, business, management, and many other areas—but never touched technology.

He only did two things: spend money and demand results.

He wasn't afraid of those who didn't understand, nor of those who did; he was afraid only of those who half-understood or whose tech was outdated, giving misguided orders based on their own ideas—that was deadly.

The facts proved that without foolish bosses and superiors meddling, as long as the team's technical level remained strong and funding was ample, a capable team could be forged and cultivated.

Weike's technical capabilities couldn't claim to be the top tier of the internet industry, but against established players like Sina and Penguin, it had never fallen behind.

In areas such as algorithmic recommendation, mobile platforms, and system stability and security, Weike had even developed its own distinct technical advantages.

This time, about $150 million would be invested in technology, to build a stronger, more solid, and better foundation.

Next, user retention, growth, and market promotion!

Currently, all platforms were competing fiercely for celebrities and big V accounts; Sina Weike and Penguin Taotao had both launched exclusive signing mechanisms.

After extensive discussion, Weike concluded that exclusive signing wasn't quite suitable for Weike.

Because Weike already had too many celebrities and big Vs; if it competed with Sina and Penguin in a spending war for exclusives, its cost burden would far exceed theirs.

But it couldn't just stand idle—both sides were constantly poaching Weike's talent by paying for exclusives.

Some would consider Weike's platform superiority and prospects and stay; others, however, were money-driven.

Some even doubted whether Weike would win; Sina and Penguin's reputations still carried weight, and some who felt their compensation and popularity didn't match on Weike, unwilling to be a tail feather, preferred to be the head of the chicken.

Weike couldn't ignore this; it had to take action to stop talent drain.

Exclusive signing was unwise—so offer subsidies!

After research, Weike developed a calculation formula to determine a user account's active contribution based on traffic and interaction data, then provide creative incentive subsidies.

In plain terms, it meant paying those accounts; Penguin and Sina Weike bought out, while Weike focused on a steady, continuous flow.

The goal of this move was primarily to stabilize the mid-tier accounts that were wavering.

Getting paid for switching platforms was a powerful temptation.

Now Weike was paying too; although not as much as a buyout, it was still money—and more stable, long-term, with lower risk, and Weike's market space and prospects were superior.

Those who could be poached certainly had some clout or a solid base on Weike; switching for money didn't guarantee they'd maintain their previous popularity and traffic.

Switching risks and platform prospect risks had to be considered; whether head of the chicken or tail of the phoenix, survival came first.

This subsidy incentive, once launched, could strongly counter Sina Weike and Penguin Taotao's poaching—and even reverse-poach their non-exclusive accounts.

Of course, Sina Weike and Penguin Taotao could copy it, but while poaching on one hand and offering incentives on the other, their costs would skyrocket.

Retaining celebrities and big Vs was one thing; more importantly, attracting new users.

The more Weike users there were, the greater the benefits and influence, the more stable the ecosystem—this was the key to keeping those celebrities and big Vs.

So Weike would use ample funds for user acquisition and advertising promotion.

Beyond the previous phone bill schemes, this time there were cash rewards, gifts, points, and other incentives to encourage new user registration and existing users to refer others.

Massive advertising campaigns would be launched both online and offline to boost public awareness.

In short, make Weike reach every corner—not just confined to the internet, but truly becoming a nationwide platform.

Additionally, considerable funds would be allocated to product ecosystem development, commercialization exploration, and strategic investments and acquisitions, to strengthen Weike in every way and win this Weike war.

"Before, we had rifles and spears; they had planes and cannons—we could only win through timing, terrain, and unity."

"Now, we not only have timing, terrain, and unity—we also have planes and cannons, even aircraft carriers. We won the war of poverty; now that we're rich, we must crush everyone."

Yan Li convened a mobilization meeting for all mid-level and above staff at Weike, announcing that the Weike war had entered a white-hot phase, and Weike would inevitably achieve ultimate victory.

Weike employees were energized; some executives even boasted of ending the battle once and for all.

Yan Li and some senior executives had prepared for a prolonged war; if $500 million couldn't crush them, they'd raise another $500 million—or even $1.5 billion.

But as always, Weike could afford to burn money; Sina couldn't; Penguin, facing the great shift of the mobile era, might not be willing to burn.

Almost immediately after Weike announced its successful $500 million fundraising, Sina's morale halved.

$500 million!

Sina's current market cap was under $3 billion.

After the financial crisis, all internet companies' market caps had recovered somewhat; Sina had recovered the least.

The reason was that its core business, Sina Blog, had been crushed by Weike, and its new venture, Sina Weike, had performed poorly.

Capital was cruel and realistic: if your prospects were good, everyone praised you to the skies; if your prospects were bad, everyone trampled you to the ground.

Now, Sina was tormented by its plummeting market cap, worried about fundraising difficulties, and fearful that wolves might seize the chance to bite into it.

After the Weike Night at the end of last year, Sina's senior management resolved to fight Weike to the death; although they were later outmaneuvered by Yan Li several times and left in disarray, their overall direction remained unchanged—they were still locked in competition with Weike.

However, less than half a year later, Sina's senior management had to reconvene for another meeting.

For months, Sina had achieved no notable victories and remained firmly on the defensive against Weibo.

Now Weibo had secured $500 million in funding, like a tiger gaining wings, its momentum growing even stronger.

Should Sina, unable to outspend its rival, cut its losses and abandon its blog and Sina Weike?

The conference room was thick with smoke.

Sina's CEO, Mr. Cao, looked years older than he had a few months prior, his exhaustion visibly apparent.

The internet bubble had burst, blogs had cooled, Sina Weike had failed to gain traction, it had been countered by Yan Li and branded a haven for rebels, nearly shut down and restructured; the much-anticipated mobile strategy to overtake Weibo had collapsed from the outset…

All these predicaments and pressures left Mr. Cao unable to sleep soundly.

In fact, two months ago, many voices within Sina had already pushed to discuss abandoning Sina Weike, but he had suppressed them with every means at his disposal.

Now that Weibo had successfully raised funds, he could no longer hold back—he had no choice but to call this meeting.

Unlike Mr. Cao's expectation of heated debate, the meeting atmosphere was far more oppressive.

The more silent it became, the more troubling it was—it signaled that some had grown numb and lost faith in the company, perhaps even begun seeking other jobs.

Seeing this, Mr. Cao had no choice but to steer the discussion himself.

Aside from the half who remained silent, the other half split into two factions: one supporting abandonment, the other opposing it.

The argument for abandonment was simple: they couldn't compete, so cut losses early and pivot to other businesses—amputate to survive.

Those unwilling to abandon had their own reasons: Sina had invested heavily; abandoning now meant wasting all that capital—how would they answer to stakeholders?

And who could guarantee that any new business venture would succeed? It might fare even worse than Sina Weike.

The blog still had some residual strength; Sina Weike wasn't without merits. Add another injection of capital, and even if they couldn't surpass Weibo, securing third place and fighting for second was still a viable path.

Mr. Cao shook his head inwardly—he was reluctant to give up on Sina Weike.

But he understood one thing clearly: competition on social platforms was winner-takes-all.

Coexistence was difficult; at least in today's market, there was no room for both Sina Weike and Weibo.

If he were Yan Li, he would show no mercy—he would seize every advantage and devour Sina Weike entirely, eliminating any future threat to Weibo.

Either withdraw, or fight to the death—only two choices.

Mr. Cao remained silent until the two factions could no longer convince each other, their eyes turning to him—he finally spoke with difficulty.

"Send Weibo an offer: ask if they're willing to acquire Sina Weike and the blog. We accept cash plus equity."

These words announced Sina's complete abandonment of Sina Weike and the blog.

Yet Mr. Cao was no ordinary man—he did not, as the abandonment faction suggested, run the businesses on minimal budgets; instead, he planned to package and sell them.

Selling them would not only bring in cash and bolster new ventures, but even acquiring equity in Weibo would count as a major strategic advantage for Sina, softening the negative impact of abandoning Sina Weike—perhaps turning a bad move into a good one.

But… would Weibo buy?

A Sina executive voiced the doubt; Mr. Cao remained confident: "I believe Yan Li will buy."

Sina Weike and the blog still held valuable technology, users, and content—useful additions for Weibo.

Meanwhile, if Sina took equity in Weibo, both sides could cooperate; Sina's internet and media resources could integrate with Weibo, adding further momentum.

Of course, the most crucial point wasn't what Sina could offer Weibo—it was that if Weibo refused to buy, Sina might sell Sina Weike to Penguin Taotao.

Penguin had money and traffic, but lacked media resources, relevant content, and users.

If it successfully acquired Sina Weike and the blog, Penguin Taotao would undergo a transformative leap.

Weibo might disregard the benefits Sina could bring—but it could never allow Penguin and Sina to join forces and create a formidable rival.

For Weibo, this kind of defensive acquisition was, in some ways, more important than a strategic one.

"If that's the case, why not partner directly with Penguin?"

An executive asked—after being crushed by Weibo for so long, many harbored resentment and preferred to see Weibo humiliated.

"It's simple."

Mr. Cao gave his answer: "I have greater faith in Yan Li—I believe Weibo will win. Partnering with the winner maximizes our gains."

…

Yan Li quickly learned of Sina's plan—admittedly, Mr. Cao's move had put him in a difficult position.

Sina Weike and the blog held limited value for Weibo; acquiring them was acceptable, but not acquiring them was also tolerable.

But if Sina sold these two platforms to Penguin Taotao—that was unacceptable to Yan Li.

In Yan Li's mind, Penguin was a far stronger opponent than Sina.

Though Weibo and Sina Weike fought fiercely, Penguin Taotao remained low-profile—not because it was weak, but because Penguin hadn't taken the fight seriously.

If Penguin Taotao filled its weaknesses and became a threat to Weibo, prompting Penguin to change its stance and increase investment, a prolonged stalemate could easily emerge.

At least Penguin wasn't as cash-strapped as Sina—it could easily burn hundreds of millions.