Chapter 13: 012 Research

Yu Xing wanted to split up with Zhong Zhiling to explore the market, but given his younger brother’s inexperience, he decided to keep him close for the first round, to prevent him from being overwhelmed when taking action.

The upcoming “Guai Ai Network” needs to set goals for its soon-to-be-formed team; this initial step involves researching the romantic conditions of university students and graduates, then further evaluating Jin Ling’s potential user base—and, to some extent, what it represents nationally.

As for whether the data is truly rigorous…

Yu Xing thought the targets just needed to be plausible enough, since there would be room for flexibility anyway.

“Counselor Qiu Zhaoming, male, 31, gets along well with students, has a gossipy personality.”

“I used to think he was too gossipy; now I see it’s exactly what we need.”

On the way, Yu Xing introduced his younger brother to their first target: his undergraduate counselor.

Along the way, he bought two packs of cigarettes from the campus convenience store, tossed one to Zhong Zhiling, and printed out several decent-looking survey questionnaires.

When they reached the target, before Zhong Zhiling could react, they saw the two counselors step out of the office and head to a stairwell to smoke.

Seeing the counselor, Yu Xing felt a pang of nostalgia and naturally engaged in more small talk than usual.

“Hey, hey, how’d you light another one?” Qiu Zhaoming exclaimed, watching his own cigarette barely half-smoked while Yu Xing already had another going, “You smoking that much now?”

Yu Xing chuckled: “Stress’s been high lately. Oh right—serious business. Here, Zhiling, hand me the questionnaire.”

Qiu Zhaoming took one, glanced at the title: “China University Student Love Survey Questionnaire.”

He studied it carefully, puzzled: “This is your ‘serious business’? I thought you wanted me to set you up with a girlfriend.”

“Setting me up is more serious?” Yu Xing smiled. “I’m just helping some buddies—they’re doing a campus survey and hoping to land corporate sponsorships. I thought long and hard, and realized student relationship data needs someone like you, Qiu Ge, capable and responsible.”

“Setting you up is more serious,” Qiu Zhaoming muttered, pulling a pen from his pocket as he stared at the questionnaire, “When you need something, you call me Qiu Ge; when you don’t, you call me Lao Qiu, right?”

Yu Xing laughed.

Qiu Zhaoming studied the questionnaire—it wasn’t complicated.

—What percentage of university students have dated?

—What percentage of current students are currently dating?

—What percentage of graduates have dated?

—What percentage of university couples eventually marry?

“You’ve dated too—why ask me?” Qiu Zhaoming held the pen, speaking dismissively, but already mentally estimating figures matching his impressions.

Yu Xing smiled and asked directly: “In the classes you’ve supervised these past few years, how many students have dated?”

Qiu Zhaoming had finished reading the questions; he carefully considered: “dated” meant regardless of whether they were still together now…

His pen hovered between two options. He looked up: “A lot. University students—suddenly freed from high school’s strictness, parents far away, surrounded by peers—some fall in love naturally, others just follow trends. I’d say at least 70%. In my four current classes, nearly 200 students—maybe 140 or 150 have dated. But they start fast and break up fast.”

“Then pick,” Yu Xing said, offering no opinion, only seeking the counselor’s perception: “Or write your own estimate—75%, 78%.”

Qiu Zhaoming selected 70%-80%.

Then he volunteered: “Those still dating now… probably less than half. No, 30%. Wait—let me calculate.”

Qiu Zhaoming muttered names under his breath: Rao Maobin, Jiang Jianhe, Jin Xinhui, Shang Linlin—no, not her, she broke up…

Zhong Zhiling couldn’t help glancing at his senior—this counselor really was gossipy.

After a long pause, Qiu Zhaoming, using his 200 students as a sample, gave a number that surprised even himself: “The percentage still dating now is probably down to 25%—about 50 people.”

Yu Xing nodded slightly: “For next month’s graduates, that percentage should drop further, right?”

“Seems…” Qiu Zhaoming pondered, then shook his head, “Seems it won’t drop much.”

He hesitated: “Maybe a 5% drop—some will break up, but most will split after graduation.”

“Five points is significant—that means 40 graduates are still dating,” Yu Xing asked a verifiable probability question: “Based on your experience, how many of those 40 couples will eventually marry?”

Qiu Zhaoming fell silent.

Yu Xing waited, no pressure.

“Marriage? I can’t count my current students,” Qiu Zhaoming mused slowly. “Looking at past ones… still using 200 as the base, 40 remain after graduation—maybe one.”

Yu Xing blinked: “One? Just one couple?”

“What if they married and then divorced?” Qiu Zhaoming asked.

Zhong Zhiling, listening nearby: “….”

Yu Xing paused two seconds, then declared firmly: “Count it.”

Qiu Zhaoming nodded: “Then one couple.”

Yu Xing: “….”

Still one couple—1 out of 40. The marriage rate among graduate couples is 2.5%.

“After graduation, too many problems arise. You’re naive on campus; in society, it’s not two people—it’s two families,” Qiu Zhaoming reflected, realizing how low the number was. “Parents, daily life, housing, personality, jobs—too many factors.”

As he spoke, he filled in the answer to the final question.

Yu Xing took back the questionnaire, glanced briefly, then took five more from his junior and smiled: “Qiu Ge, help us out—get other counselors to fill these out too.”

“What’s so important about filling these out?” Qiu Zhaoming shook his head but took them anyway.

“I’ll treat you to lunch tomorrow noon,” Yu Xing grinned, offering another cigarette.

Qiu Zhaoming waved it off: “No more. You cut back too—nicotine’s bad.”

Yu Xing laughed, accepted, thanked the counselor again, then left with Zhong Zhiling.

Once downstairs, he asked his junior: “Was that really that hard?”

“It was…,” Zhong Zhiling nodded, then hesitated, “But isn’t that only because you know him?”

“Come on, let’s go to the Tourism College next door,” Yu Xing didn’t argue, just stated his thought: “We need to leverage our student status—it lowers communication costs significantly in campus settings.”

Zhong Zhiling instinctively murmured: “Huh?”

“He’s still a student—what can he do?” Yu Xing shrugged. “That’s probably the feeling.”

Zhong Zhiling couldn’t help smiling: “Out of 200 people, only one ended up married?”

“Only one went from campus romance to real-world marriage,” Yu Xing asked casually, “Will you be that one?”

Zhong Zhiling fell silent.

As they stepped out of campus, he suddenly said: “Xiao Ying works at the company too—if we break up, will it affect our work?”

Yu Xing stopped, looked at his junior, said nothing, and gave him a thumbs-up.

He didn’t answer such questions. As they entered the neighboring school, he explained the ultimate goal of today’s research: “We need rough numbers to understand how far our activities in Jin Ling can reach.”

“A small boat turns easily—if we have 1,000 potential customers, we might set a 30% conversion rate.”

“With that performance target, we can then determine the team size needed to handle this.”

“Campus activities are relatively simple—once we establish initial experience, the rest will be similar.”

Yu Xing asked his junior: “Understood?”

Zhong Zhiling nodded, then asked: “Where will we get team members?”

Yu Xing pointed at the school: “Start with this. The other part isn’t hard either.”

He added: “Also, I’ll use our survey sample to produce a ‘China University Student Love Survey Report.’ Once the team gains basic experience and results, we’ll build extra reputation from it.”

Zhong Zhiling heard this grand-sounding title and doubted it could come from two medical students.

Maybe writing a “China University Student Health Report” or a “Mental Condition Assessment Report” would be more appropriate…