Chapter 109: 106 Became

Nasdaq’s stock price remained unchanged, Yu Shanfeng’s abbreviated report received little attention, and Hong Kong media only carried sporadic snippets, everything seeming calm on the surface.

Yu Xing and Liu Wan were both waiting and observing, but saw no signs at all.

However, the day after Yu Shanfeng released its report, Fen Zhong Media had already formed an ad hoc team to investigate the matter.

The team was of high rank: Director Long Jun, Senior Vice President Ma Ruifeng, Vice President Tu Yafang, and Director of Public Relations Ji Hairong jointly handled the company’s unexpected external crisis.

They were also required to regularly report relevant developments to the boss, Jiang Nanchun.

Yet after three days of research, they were at a loss.

First, they had assumed it was a demand for public relations fees, but the other side remained silent.

Second, they tried investigating Yu Shanfeng Research, registered in Hong Kong, but its structure was layered and obscured, making it impossible to trace the actual controller.

Third, all publicly listed contact methods were unreachable.

Fourth, the report issued by this research firm was extremely concise, yet it carried a certain… implication.

Precisely because of that implication, Fen Zhong’s core executives were willing to make token gestures—but the other side’s utter silence left them utterly baffled.

“What if we hack their website?” suggested Vice President Tu Yafang.

“Hacking one website won’t help—it’ll only escalate tensions,” Long Jun shook his head. “This new website is trivial; it can keep publishing, and it can get media to publish for it. The real issue is why it can pinpoint those specific matters.”

Yu Shanfeng’s report gave no specific data, but the references to screen counts, related transactions, acquisitions, and disclosures were far too pointed.

So… when Jiang Nanchun learned of the situation, he first flew into a rage, then fell into ominous silence, and immediately assigned trusted personnel to handle it.

Senior Vice President Ma Ruifeng stated succinctly: “Still investigating, but it’s hard to get traction.”

Such a precisely targeted report made it hard not to suspect internal leaks—but this level of data and transactions was known to only a few.

Hard to investigate. Really hard.

The four were still discussing when suddenly, Director Ji Hairong’s phone rang.

He looked at the unfamiliar landline number, pointed at the screen, and said: “It’s a Hong Kong landline.”

The three senior executives’ expressions turned grave.

Ji Hairong took a breath, answered the call, and turned on speakerphone: “Hello?”

“Hello, is this Ji Hairong, Director of Fen Zhong Media? I’m Wei Yanli from the Hong Kong Economic Daily, this is our office number.” The caller introduced herself politely, “A research report concerning Fen Zhong Media has been circulating. Do you know about this?”

Ji Hairong steadied his nerves and racked his brain to respond to the Hong Kong journalist’s inquiry.

The three beside him had assumed this was finally a sign from “Yu Shanfeng”—but it was just a journalist’s interview. Their hearts didn’t lighten; instead, they grew heavier.

Thanks to “Yu Shanfeng,” they now had a rough understanding of Hong Kong media. Unlike the scattered tabloids before, the Economic Daily was a highly influential outlet.

If the Economic Daily launched a major report, the company’s position could easily turn passive.

Ji Hairong finally ended the call, put down his phone, and said: “We can’t keep going like this. We need a contingency plan for external changes.”

Long Jun asked directly: “What’s your idea?”

“We don’t know who’s behind ‘Yu Shanfeng,’ and we can’t trace them right now—so we’ll have to respond as events unfold. Since they claim there’s an issue with screen counts, we must prove there isn’t.” Ji Hairong had been considering next steps these past two days. “We need two independent third-party institutions to conduct audits and endorse us—prestigious ones.”

“As for related transactions… their report only hinted at suspicion, nothing concrete. Clarifying it would be easier.”

“As for acquisitions…”

Ji Hairong felt uneasy—those were matters reflected in financial statements, hard to explain clearly.

“I have a thought,” said Senior Vice President Ma Ruifeng suddenly. “Could ‘Yu Shanfeng’ be an outsider? Not someone inside our company? I think the motive is weak—but what if it’s an institution like ‘Citron’ doing short selling? Wouldn’t that make more sense?”

Ji Hairong froze: “Could it be short selling? This…”

The ad hoc team was formed because Boss Jiang Nanchun suspected internal leaks, so from the start, the focus was inward.

But with something like this, everyone seemed suspicious—and yet no one seemed guilty.

Ma Ruifeng continued slowly: “I’m not saying there’s no internal issue. It could be collusion between inside and outside.”

Director Long Jun asked: “‘Yu Shanfeng’ is a Chinese name—it means king cobra—but we don’t seem to have any dedicated short sellers here.”

Ma Ruifeng nodded. The well-known short sellers seemed all based in Europe and America.

But he added: “Maybe this one is meant to fill the gap—there’s no vicious short seller in China.”

Long Jun glared at Ma Ruifeng—now he had time for jokes?

“My point is, if this is a short seller’s attack, what we need to do is secure our fundamentals,” Ma Ruifeng explained. “As long as our performance stays strong, as long as our screen count keeps growing, we can hold up the stock price—half our problems will be solved.”

He paused, then added: “But we don’t know how much they have in hand.”

The report seen so far was brief, but who knew if more would follow? Everyone had felt the unease of being watched by a venomous snake in the dark.

If this venomous snake truly lived up to its name—a king cobra—then unease wouldn’t be enough.

“Although there are minor issues with base screen numbers, domestic advertising in this sector will definitely rise over the next few years,” Long Jun said.

This was an industry-wide trend—the overall direction was upward, meaning Fen Zhong’s performance was fundamentally bullish long-term.

As Director of Public Relations, Ji Hairong concluded: “Let’s start preparing. Surely they won’t be so heartless as to ruin everyone’s New Year.”

Long Jun nodded slightly: “Let’s hope for the best—maybe it’s just blackmail.”

Ma Ruifeng also nodded. Blackmail was better than short selling. The former might not have much leverage and could be settled cheaply; short selling was far worse—the institution’s gains were negligible compared to the company’s losses.

Let them have a good New Year.

…

“I really hope we can have a good New Year.”

“I’m just waiting for Fen Zhong’s payment.”

“Xiao Ying, you think the U.S. proxy lawyer won’t double-cross us?”

On the morning of January 18, Yu Xing crouched below the company building, talking to Liu Wan while waiting for Zhong Zhiling and Lu Haiying to join him for a meeting with Shen Nanpeng and Xu Xin.

Song Yufeng, due to his poor health, stayed at the company with Kong Huilin to await results.

“Probably not,” Liu Wan said nervously over the phone. “We haven’t paid the full legal fee. Also, if the SEC imposes a fine, we’ll get 20% of the reward.”

Yu Xing could only sigh: “So ruthless…”

“This is still the price I offered because I hinted at future cooperation,” Liu Wan sighed. “If we could hire directly, costs would drop—but… this is safer.”

The lawyers contacted through a Kaimanqundao company, PUT was bought via different overseas firms and different brokers—these setups added cost, but each link operated independently, maximizing security.

Yu Xing was about to speak when he saw the second and third bosses emerge from the residential compound. He ended the call: “Let me know if anything happens.”

“Not sure if we’ll get a reply today—it might be delayed,” Liu Wan replied. “I’ll notify you immediately. I’ll send a text.”

Yu Xing ended the call, stood up, and stretched his numb legs, smiling at Zhong Zhiling and Lu Haiying: “Ready? Less nervous than last time?”

Both Zhong Zhiling and Lu Haiying, after reviewing their meeting with Xu Xin last time, admitted they’d been extremely nervous.

Both shook their heads.

Lu Haiying said: “I just discussed with Zhiling—we’re wondering who’s stronger, Shen Nanpeng or Xu Xin.”

Yu Xing thought a moment. Shen Nanpeng’s Hongshan Capital had grown rapidly and would likely have greater influence in the future—but right now…

He pondered, then said: “Xu Xin has deep investment experience. She dealt extensively with the 99ers—invested in NetEase back in 1999. Right now, she’s clearly more formidable.”

Zhong Zhiling and Lu Haiying asked in unison: “The 99ers?”

“It’s a general term for the big entrepreneurs who started around 1999,” Yu Xing explained. “Just in 1999 alone, Alibaba, Tianya, Shengda, Dangdang, Yitang—all launched. Before and after, there were Sina, Tencent, NetEase… many went public. BAT are now giants; Sina, NetEase, Sohu may have slowed, but they’re still doing fine.”

“And the reason I mention Xu Xin’s ties to them is because their defining trait was embracing capital—most went public overseas.”

Yu Xing added: “The environment back then was like that—there was no domestic IPO soil.”

Zhong Zhiling thought a moment, then asked: “Is this really such a clear division? If there are 99ers, are there others?”

“I don’t know,” Yu Xing laughed. “Xiao Ying mentioned it in casual chat, but it made sense. Come on, let’s get in the car.”

Today was a bit luxurious—they took a taxi instead of the subway.

Mainly because last time there were five people and one car couldn’t hold them; today it was fine.

Once in the car, Yu Xing chatted: “Before 99, there were 84 and 92—right around two waves of southern migration. In 1984, everything was missing; everything went from nothing to something. Domestic brand conglomerates emerged: Haier, Midea, Lenovo…”

“In 1992, real estate took off. The ‘100,000-strong army’ rushed to Hainan. The Six Gentlemen of Wantong timed their exits perfectly: Feng Lun, Wang Gongquan, Pan Shiye, Yi Xiaodi, Wang Qifu, Liu Jun—and Fosun, Taikang…”

Yu Xing spoke fluently—even the taxi driver fell silent, listening.

As they neared their destination, Zhong Zhiling gazed dreamily: “84, 92, 99… if we count like this, our era should have a name too.”

This time, Yu Xing only smiled, saying nothing.

If counted this way, it could only be 15—the mobile internet wave swept in, and everyone struggled and sought opportunities amid giants’ competition.

The taxi driver finally spoke up, encouraging: “Young man, keep going—the future is yours.”

Yu Xing laughed: “We’ll keep going, we’ll definitely keep going. Driver, you listened so intently—can you tell other passengers about this? Can you waive the fare?”

The taxi driver was blunt: “No way!”

“Then at least round down the fare,” Yu Xing gestured. “Zhong Zhiling, pay.”

Zhong Zhiling successfully rounded down the fare, deeply feeling his senior brother’s nature—he grasped the big picture but never let go of the small details.

When they arrived at the office they’d visited before, Zhong Zhiling and Lu Haiying looked at Xu Xin again and felt she carried the historical radiance of the 99ers. Oh, and Shen Nanpeng beside her did too.

Xicheng was also founded in 1999—he was part of that entrepreneurial wave.

“Director Xu, Director Shen,” Yu Xing greeted them. “Hmm, Director Shen asked me to meet here—I’m still surprised.”

“I’m here discussing with Director Xu the gains and losses of JD’s investment,” Shen Nanpeng smiled. “It’s thanks to you that I have this regret—if you’d sent that message again, would you still send it like that?”

Yu Xing understood: if he hadn’t mentioned JD that way, Shen Nanpeng might never have reached a tacit understanding with Xu Xin.

He shook his head: “I’d still send it that way. At least I secured an opportunity.”

Xu Xin said directly: “Didn’t I give you an opportunity?”

“You did—but I wanted more,” Yu Xing replied honestly. “But now it seems like I failed.”

He looked at Shen Nanpeng: “Do I need to explain the Baixiaosheng model? Director Shen, I have a term sheet for financing.”

Shen Nanpeng waved his hand: “I’ve read it. The model is clear, the team is decent, user growth is strong—it has investment value and future potential. I think it’s worth investing in. But I have one extra question: although I saw many users’ daily activities on your site, have you considered easing your main traffic-driving mechanism?”

He smiled: “You can’t keep driving traffic with negative news forever.”

"What we provide is merely an objective, neutral platform, but the actual effect is that negative messages attract more attention," Yu Xing said. "And unfortunately, we believe all of them are true—this is regrettable, not for Baixiaosheng, but for the companies exposed."

He glanced at Shen Nanpeng and continued: "Negativity isn’t our primary concern; our main focus is authenticity. In the workplace, many authentic details only surface when posted anonymously."

"Although we have dual verification for real names and employment, given the anonymity mechanism, we will later introduce an enterprise-backed real-name clarification system, which should help ease tensions between us and B-end companies."

Prioritize C, accommodate B.

Shen Nanpeng pondered for a moment and considered this a reasonable arrangement.

He glanced at Xu Xin, saw she had no intention to speak, and cut straight to the point: "Two million two hundred thousand U.S. dollars for thirty percent—Sequoia China and Today Capital each contribute one million one hundred thousand. If the website performs well, Sequoia is willing to lead the subsequent B-round."

That’s two hundred thousand dollars higher than the previous offer, plus added terms for the next round.

In other words, the company’s valuation increased by six hundred sixty-six thousand seven hundred U.S. dollars.

"If the company grows well, will the B-round financing be difficult?" Yu Xing asked in return.

Shen Nanpeng smiled: "It might be easier—but this is Sequoia China’s sincerity."

Yu Xing turned to Xu Xin: "Will the advisory office still be set up?"

Xu Xin politely held firm: "Baixiaosheng has only just been founded, Yu Zong. Don’t treat this as a constraint. Frankly, I realize this might discomfort you, but many companies want us to set up offices—we decline them all."

The meeting progressed far faster than Yu Xing had expected; no one else even got a chance to speak—they went straight to price and terms.

He paused, then stated his own terms: "Three million U.S. dollars for twenty percent—with complete freedom of development."

Xu Xin smiled faintly: "Your valuation is unreasonable."

Shen Nanpeng nodded slightly and said: "Yu Zong, two months ago at our annual meeting in Jingcheng, thirty-two CEOs of companies we’ve invested in attended. I sincerely hope you’ll join us this year."

"Two million two hundred thousand U.S. dollars for an A-round is already extremely generous for a newly founded website—it’s an entry ticket."

"I haven’t thought much about it. I’m willing to trust Xu Zong’s judgment."

"You should thank Xu Zong."

Shen Nanpeng looked at the hesitant young founder and said this.

Yu Xing took a breath. In truth, this offer was within his expectations and acceptable.

Just as he was about to speak, his phone vibrated in his pocket.

He pulled it out and saw a message from Liu Wan: just two words—“Done.”

Done!

Fen Zhong is releasing funds!

We have an investor for our A-round!

Yu Xing kept his expression unchanged, casually placed his phone on the table, and said, as Shen Nanpeng had hoped: "Thank you, Xu Zong."

Xu Xin smiled slightly.

Yu Xing continued: "And thank you, Shen Zong."

Then he paused, and delivered his decision: "Let’s table this for now."

Shen Nanpeng’s smile froze on his face.

Yu Xing stood up: "Xu Zong, Shen Zong, although we’re not partnering on the A-round, you’ll be our top priority for the B-round. Thank you for your recognition."

Shen Nanpeng frowned: "Why? What does ‘table this’ mean? Are you not raising the A-round at all? Not even considering it?"

Before Yu Xing could answer, his phone rang suddenly.

Shen Nanpeng picked up his phone, listened for two sentences, and his expression darkened—Damn it!