Chapter 101: Meeting (5k)

Yu Xing never expected to run into the big boss on his very first visit today.

He had only intended to lure a minor foe.

This should count as… luck.

Yet, when he finally received the signal that he wouldn’t be thrown out, he grew tense all the same.

Investor, investor—this was an investor he’d never dealt with before, one tied directly to the website’s next round of funding…

Yu Xing tensed up during the fifteen seconds from the door to the office; but once seated on the sofa, a thought suddenly relaxed him.

Pentakill!

I once landed five straight kills on your husband!

Yu Xing recalled his brief but unforgettable stint at Zhen Ai Network.

“Please have some tea.”

Though he’d nearly been thrown out earlier, the boss’s secretary now served him tea.

Yu Xing smiled at her, sipped the tea, and gave Lu Haiying a glance—since he’d come this far and wasn’t thrown out, this was already the first step toward engaging the investor.

Lu Haiying’s nervousness eased somewhat at her senior’s glance—let the senior bear the weight of heaven falling; if they got thrown out, she’d drag him along.

Xu Xin studied the two young men across from her, skipping pleasantries: “Did Liu Qiangdong send you?”

“Yes,” Yu Xing confirmed. “Liu Zong said you’re an outstanding investor with exceptional judgment and bold investment acumen, so as soon as our website needed funding, I came straight to you.”

It was indeed Liu Qiangdong who referred him, but this explanation neatly covered his earlier story.

Xu Xin naturally caught the evasion, yet she had no appreciation for such tricks—even the questions she’d planned to ask now felt unnecessary.

An awkward silence settled over the office.

This was Yu Xing’s first encounter with a “professional” investor—unlike Liu Wan’s amateurish dabbling, the pressure was real.

He sipped his tea again, waiting for Xu Xin to speak, but felt as if a countdown had already begun on this meeting.

I’m already here!

A voice rose in his mind, shattering the silence like a stone cast into a still lake—ripples spreading outward.

“Liu Zong told me you also agree with my remarks at the Jinling Internet Conference.”

“It seems that Liu Zong, Ma Zong, and you—all great minds—share the same vision.”

Yu Xing tossed out the slimmest possible opening for positive feedback—and immediately saw Xu Xin’s gaze shift toward him. He added: “Bai Xiaosheng is a product born from industry trend analysis.”

Xu Xin gave a cold, humorless smile: “And what about Gui Ai Network?”

Yu Xing didn’t ask her to separate the two issues—he answered seriously: “Gui Ai Network received too much goodwill from Zhen Ai Network, so I sold it to Li Zong. But afterward, I reflected repeatedly…”

“Our first startup last year yielded many lessons worth absorbing into Bai Xiaosheng.”

It was your husband who insisted on buying it.

The previous one’s sold; this one’s better. Admitting past mistakes means they’ve been turned into experience.

Xu Xin asked: “What do you think of the internet dating industry?”

A wife of a top dating site founder asks a man who just publicly trashed the industry.

Yu Xing hesitated slightly.

Since sitting down, Xu Xin had asked three questions—about the referral, Gui Ai Network, and internet dating—all unrelated to his current project, Bai Xiaosheng.

And it was clear she held a very poor impression of him.

If he kept answering in his usual way, would he only anger her further?

Yu Xing couldn’t tell what Xu Zong wanted to hear—he looked at her face, but saw only blankness.

He ventured: “Xu Zong, do you want my honest opinion, or just whatever comes to mind?”

Xu Xin replied: “Either.”

Yu Xing had no time to overthink—he decided: To hell with it.

“Since you’re letting me speak, I’ll be blunt: the turmoil the internet dating industry faces now is entirely deserved.” Yu Xing chose candor. “If you think I caused the Zhen Ai Network scandal, rather than the collective practices of Zhen Ai and other companies that angered users, then I have nothing more to say.”

Xu Xin sighed inwardly—enough about her husband.

Her expression didn’t change; she dropped the personal line and shifted to Bai Xiaosheng: “You said your new website learned from past mistakes?”

Yu Xing sensed the shift in tone and topic—he nodded seriously and listed: “Yes. Gui Ai Network had a website, and I even used it to attend the Internet Conference, but in essence, it was more of an offline company, with online traffic merely serving its Taobao store.”

“Gui Ai Network relied on high commission structures for rapid expansion, and its management system was extremely weak.”

“But Bai Xiaosheng is a standard internet company.”

“It’s lighter on assets, focuses more on team building and cohesion, and better leverages the internet’s inherent high propagation.”

He paused, then continued: “I once thought management was simple. Gui Ai Network’s team expanded quickly—we hit nearly a million in revenue within the first month. But… I soon realized management has limits. For example, reimbursements—I only learned from Wei Jialan of Zhen Ai Network, during the acquisition, that our Beijing team’s expense claims were irregular.”

“So we improved for Bai Xiaosheng.”

Yu Xing watched Xu Xin’s expression—was it his imagination, or did her gaze seem more focused now?

He raised his cup, sipped tea, and entered his comfort zone of hands-on experience: “Bai Xiaosheng still uses a ground team—we’ve deployed twenty-five people across Beijing, Shanghai, Guangzhou, Shenzhen, and Hangzhou. Their task: precisely target internet companies in these five cities.”

“We have Gui Ai Network’s operational experience—we could rapidly grow user numbers, especially among campus users and part-time campus teams, areas where we’ve already proven ourselves. But we didn’t do that—we’re carefully controlling team size.”

Yu Xing’s words were credible—he’d indeed scaled his last project quickly.

“Bai Xiaosheng’s positioning is vertical and niche. We don’t need to show off massive user numbers—we pursue sustainable, effective growth.”

“If I had to compare Gui Ai Network and Bai Xiaosheng, I’ve repeated three words to myself throughout Bai Xiaosheng’s operation.”

Yu Xing took a breath and said them: “Discipline, vertical, niche.”

Xu Xin heard the word “discipline” placed first—and couldn’t help recalling her own evaluation yesterday at the “Quna” funding meeting: young people who taste success find it hard to stay grounded.

Chase quick money, short-term gains—typical young entrepreneurs.

Over the years, Xu Xin had seen many such talented youths—but time erased nearly all of them from the business landscape.

Once you’ve tasted sweetness, can you let go?

Someone like Yu Xing here…

Especially since he began his second startup almost immediately—how did he overcome human nature?

Xu Xin found it hard to believe.

She asked her first focused question about Bai Xiaosheng: “Vertical and niche? That’s what you mean by ‘born from industry trend analysis’?”

“Exactly. The main internet lanes are already dominated by giants. If I tried to enter e-commerce now, I’d have no confidence—neither capital nor resources compare.” Yu Xing said. “In today’s era, internet companies can only succeed by going deeper and more niche. That’s why our website reached 95,945 users in just two months!”

Two months. 95,945!

Most of them were professionals.

Xu Xin narrowed her eyes—she understood the value instantly.

“Professional networking isn’t a new lane, but no company has succeeded yet. I think two reasons: first, the internet’s rapid growth over recent years laid the user foundation; second, one crucial piece was missing.” Yu Xing explained. “Bai Xiaosheng provides that missing piece: ‘professional topics.’”

Xu Xin listened silently.

“Pure professional networking is too hard. Take Tianji Network, founded by the former vice-president of Sina—he tried exactly that, but never got anywhere.” Yu Xing slowed his pace. “Over the past two months, we focused on three professional topics: university graduates entering the workforce, problems in internet dating, and layoffs and fake insurance policies at Xiecheng. The first two were planned; the third emerged inevitably from Bai Xiaosheng’s mechanism.”

“From a user-count perspective, I believe our thinking is correct.”

“Topics are the medium of social interaction; social interaction provides the soil for topics. Together, they form the professional platform we aim to build.”

By this point, Yu Xing felt no tension at all.

Xu Xin pondered what she’d heard, then asked a data point: “What’s your current DAU?”

DAU: daily active users.

“We’re in a rapid growth phase—this number changes daily,” Yu Xing replied. “The day before yesterday, DAU neared 40,000, but that figure was misleading. I didn’t track yesterday’s, but it must’ve been higher.”

Yesterday’s surge—triggered by NetEase’s press conference and anonymous Xiecheng employee posts—must’ve brought in far more users.

Xu Xin asked: “Have you calculated DAU/MAU ratio?”

Yu Xing answered: “Yes, but due to our rapid growth, the data is unreliable. On December 10, we calculated 61%, but we don’t treat it as a reference.”

MAU: monthly active users.

DAU/MAU was popularized by Facebook—they used and publicly discussed this ratio to measure user retention, so many websites now adopt it.

Typically, world-class products like Facebook maintain ratios above 50%, sometimes reaching 70–80% early on; for most products, 20% is already good.

Yu Xing gave Bai Xiaosheng’s number—but candidly stressed it wasn’t reliable.

Xu Xin didn’t dwell on the data. Suddenly, she asked from another angle: “I know you’re not from a computer science background—you studied medicine. Did your staff calculate this data when you first launched the site?”

“We hired a consultant from Bain & Company,” Yu Xing explained. “She’s the one who asked for these metrics. I didn’t understand them before, but she said they must be tracked long-term to be meaningful.”

Xu Xin found this reasonable.

She asked: “A Bain consultant? Do you have budget for this?”

“She’s already left Bain. Our first angel investment came from her,” Yu Xing elaborated. “She’s agreed to continue offering professional advice—that’s a lesson I learned from my last project.”

Xu Xin fell silent. Objectively, this young man’s words were sounding more and more like those of a credible entrepreneur.

She asked a question that had become increasingly difficult for internet founders in recent years: “If Tencent launches the same project, what will you do?”

Xu Xin watched Yu Xing—and noticed a faint smile on his face. Then came the five-word answer.

Yu Xing replied without hesitation: “Tencent has a stance.”

As an investor who’d long backed internet ventures, Xu Xin had, willingly or not, had to monitor Tencent’s influence.

She’d asked this question to over ten founders—but this was the first time she’d heard an answer that made her want to inhale sharply.

Oh!

No further explanation needed—this project’s current state and context were perfectly captured in those five words.

Xu Xin suppressed her admiration, speaking slowly: “Good.”

Then she added: “I hadn’t thought of it that way.”

“Xu Zong, you’re an investor, and this is your first time hearing this—you can’t possibly have reflected on competitive threats as deeply as I have,” Yu Xing smiled. “So Bai Xiaosheng is one of the rare internet projects that doesn’t need to fear big-firm competition.”

He finished the last of his tea and spoke faster: “We won’t take the big factory’s investment—that’s a trap!”

“After we get the funding, we won’t use it to promote in second- or third-tier cities—that’s another trap!”

“If we can secure five million U.S. dollars this year, we’re confident we can reach one million users; next year, we’re confident we can raise another round and accelerate user growth to five to ten million!”

“Social networking is a good story, and workplace social networking is also a solid one!”

“Once we’ve established the basic platform mechanisms for workplace social networking and workplace discussions, we only need a single injection of capital to rapidly scale and achieve success!”

Yu Xing’s eyes gleamed; he had largely completed his account of this unexpected meeting.

He had more to say, more dreams to paint—but perhaps today was enough.

Xu Xin nodded slightly and remarked: “You’re asking for a lot. Your appetite is huge.”

Five million U.S. dollars was a sum requiring serious consideration in today’s environment.

Yesterday’s “Where To” sought a C-round funding of fifteen million U.S. dollars, while Baixiaosheng was a company less than three months old.

This was a lion’s demand.

Xu Xin didn’t mock; her thoughts and calculations mingled, and after two full minutes, she said: “Did you bring the term sheet?”

Yu Xing signaled Lu Haiying, realizing his mistake—he should have handed it to the investor first thing.

Lu Haiying pulled the funding term sheet from her bag and passed it to Xu Xin’s secretary.

Xu Xin didn’t open it; she simply said: “I’ll review it. I have another meeting soon. Let’s stay in touch by phone.”

Yu Xing stood and politely thanked her: “Understood, Xu Zong. Baixiaosheng hopes to receive the support of an investor as outstanding as you.”

He and Lu Haiying took their leave.

Once they were inside the elevator, Lu Haiying said: “Senior brother, I just now dared to breathe again…”

“So this is what it feels like to meet an investor,” Yu Xing said. He should have been happy, but he felt strangely neither elated nor dejected: “The meeting today went fairly well.”

Lu Haiying watched the elevator descend and joked: “Definitely well! Xu Xin’s attitude before and after was completely different! This is… this is us jointly convincing the investor!”

Yu Xing laughed heartily and stepped out of the elevator.

Lu Haiying took two steps before suddenly noticing her senior brother ahead—his back was soaked in sweat.

…

Today Capital’s office.

The term sheet from Baixiaosheng had been flipped through only one page.

Xu Xin glanced at it twice and stopped reading, her fingers lightly tapping the desk.

Her secretary, Luo Shujing, remarked: “Xu Zong, Baixiaosheng sounds pretty good.”

Xu Xin snapped back to attention and asked: “You’ve been listening beside me all along—what do you think of Yu Xing’s pitch?”

Luo Shujing hesitated: “It seems… acceptable.”

Xu Xin smiled: “I always say a great investor must have the instinct of a killer. I invested in Ding Lei quickly; when I met Liu Qiangdong, we talked until two a.m.—one million U.S. dollars went from meeting to bank transfer in under twenty-four hours.”

“But today, that instinct is blurry.”

“Why do you think that is?”

Luo Shujing thought her boss’s words sounded mystical, but the examples she cited were true.

She shook her head, knowing the answer was already there, and played along: “Why?”

Xu Xin frowned and evaluated: “Because he spoke too well. Too clearly.”

Luo Shujing was surprised—too good and too clear wasn’t acceptable?

“Ding Lei was brilliant, Liu Qiangdong was excellent too—but when I spoke with them back then, they were full of confusion and uncertainty,” Xu Xin said. “Entrepreneurs face an uncertain market. Yu Xing has no track record in this field. His answers…”

“All we can say is, we can’t see the whole picture. Setting aside the facts we can observe, today’s feeling just feels… off.”

Xu Xin’s final assessment: “This guy is strange. Let’s take another look. Have Liu Zong and the others research this website.”

Luo Shujing had been secretary for a long time; she knew her boss had no interest in women’s chatter about jewelry or makeup. She treated investing as a pleasure, constantly studying different entrepreneurs and relishing conversations with founders.

In short, her boss was excellent at reading people.

She nodded and stepped out of the office, but suddenly a thought surfaced: Xu Zong’s attitude toward Yu Xing had already changed before and after the meeting.

Xu Xin sat alone in her office. After long contemplation, she finally opened the Baixiaosheng term sheet again.

But she hadn’t read long before her desk phone rang.

Seeing it was her husband Li Song, she answered.

Ten seconds later, she exclaimed: “Why are you flying to Shen Cheng?”

Li Song laughed: “To check our market promotion in Shen Cheng, see if there’s anything worth buying for the New Year gifts. What, not welcome?”

“Welcome, come,” Xu Xin glanced at the documents on her desk. “I’m wrapping up before the holiday too.”

Li Song confirmed the timing: “Good. I’ll arrive tomorrow—personally pay a visit to Xu Zong at Today Capital!”