Chapter 52: 051 The Perilous Leap (10,000 Words for Monthly Votes)

Yu Xing chatted warmly with Penguin reporter Kong Huilin and enthusiastically showed her the company’s long-term plans for the future.

Kong Huilin believed him without doubt, because everything sounded utterly genuine.

That evening, she still had dinner with Song Yufeng, and inevitably brought up today’s interview, mentioning her impression of Yu Xing, founder of Guai Ai Net.

“He’s simple, utterly unworldly.”

“But he does have ideas about company growth—though I feel a company that never seeks commercialization will inevitably hit problems, reducing its resilience to market fluctuations.”

“College students have drive—they can talk endlessly about business.”

“There’s a glow of idealism about him.”

Song Yufeng sat across from Kong Huilin, nearly stunned—could this be the same person I know? Idealism? That dog of a college kid?

Kong Huilin paused, then added: “Just like you—no wonder you became friends.”

Song Yufeng sipped his juice and smiled in admission: “I am a bit idealistic myself.”

Kong Huilin glanced at the rugged man across from her and smiled: “Yu Xing also holds you in high regard.”

Song Yufeng coughed, suddenly feeling uneasy, adjusting his posture: “Between us, it’s always just jokes.”

Kong Huilin shook her head: “No, he meant it seriously—he said…”

She paused, lifted her juice cup, and spoke solemnly: “He said he’s never met anyone so unbendingly upright!”

Song Yufeng exhaled in relief, clinked his cup against hers, and sincerely replied: “Overpraise, overpraise.”

“I think it’s truly gentlemanly of you two to become friends,” Kong Huilin said, propping her chin on her hand. “You’ve known him barely any time, yet you’re willing to abandon your own future and stand up for him— isn’t that the very essence of a pure, quiet friendship?”

Song Yufeng looked at Kong Huilin before suddenly saying: “A graceful lady, a gentleman’s desire.”

Hearing this, Kong Huilin reached for food, quickly lowered her head, yet her ears turned involuntarily red—though Brother Feng’s looks were average, not as handsome as his handsome college friend, his integrity was uniquely compelling.

Watching this, Song Yufeng suddenly felt as if new sunlight had returned to his life.

…

On the same night, Yu Xing browsed suggestions from enthusiastic netizens on the campus network using his laptop, while Zhong Zhiling served as temporary customer service, answering questions from online store clients.

The apartment in Songjiang University Town came with two beds per room; Zhong Zhiling, who had come from Lin’an, slept on the second bed in his senior brother’s room to save money.

Soon, the room grew thick with smoke.

“Their enthusiasm is real, their mischief is real too.”

Yu Xing, cigarette dangling from his lips, squinted at the suggestions on his laptop.

“Big Brother, today’s website traffic is great—after you posted the photo accepting the apology, the effect was immediate,” Zhong Zhiling said, standing up to open the window a bit, clearly pleased.

Yu Xing smiled in response: “Really? Are there even more people online now?”

“Yes, from afternoon to tonight we’ve had 97 orders,” Zhong Zhiling calculated, sighing. “Looks like August will rely entirely on online traffic—I just got a call from Lin’an; their total orders today were only 31, almost below 30.”

Offline orders were collapsing rapidly—changing daily.

What was once a weekly comparison across five cities had become a daily one.

Zhong Zhiling had plotted time against order volume, and the downward trend was unmistakable.

Yet, in the same coordinate system, the state two weeks ago had been thriving, filling Zhong Zhiling with boundless confidence and the thought that this project could go on indefinitely.

Yu Xing said nothing.

Zhong Zhiling shook his head, as if speaking to his senior brother, or perhaps to himself: “In just over a month, it’s like witnessing the rise and fall of a business—now this online store’s performance… feels like a replay.”

How similar was the current online store performance to the offline performance two weeks ago?

“We can still do it,” Yu Xing replied to a distant netizen’s message, then looked at his junior brother—clearly more mature, noticeably thinner. “August will be the bottom. September will surely rebound. But I must say, acquiring social clients is twice as hard as I imagined.”

The difficulty with social clients had already been anticipated—now it was even harder, much harder.

The reason: most college student couples get their money from family, while social couples understand how hard earning is and recognize the practical problems between them.

Although Guai Ai Net had lowered the marriage timeline for social couples to two years, it wasn’t enough to truly move them.

Moreover, Guai Ai Net’s redemption credibility was a clear issue.

The same product from different companies received entirely different treatment.

When Yu Xing decided to launch this project, he’d already considered this: insurance companies have inherent credibility; if Alibaba or Penguin launched it, the difficulty would naturally drop. But Guai Ai Net, once leaving campus, would face brutal tests.

Between the college demographic and the social demographic, a sharp boundary seemed drawn.

Seeing his senior brother light another cigarette, Zhong Zhiling lit one too and nodded: “Yes, I didn’t truly grasp your point earlier, but after these days of work, I feel it deeply—it’s true that what you learn from books is shallow; to know something thoroughly, you must experience it yourself.”

The personal experience was too profound! Too heartbreaking!

Heartbreakingly profound!

At that moment, he recalled the line his senior brother had drawn back in Jin Ling: “Big Brother, you said earliest September, latest by year-end—next month is already September…”

“It depends on whether our interview gets published, and how dating brands react,” Yu Xing said, focused. “We’re obscure small-timers with no influence. Without media or platforms, we can’t make a ripple. If Penguin’s interview gets rejected, I’ll announce our 10 million in revenue on the campus network—let’s try everything.”

He turned his gaze to the window, feeling the night seep in, and spoke slowly: “Marx said, the leap from commodity to money is a perilous one. Today, our ‘Guai Ai Net’ is finally taking shape as a product—but whether it can make that leap is the most perilous part.”

In plain terms: if it doesn’t sell, it’s stuck in our hands.

Whether online or through the interview, everyone’s attention is fixed on Guai Ai Net’s “Romance Contract” product, debating and forming ideas around it.

But “Guai Ai Net” itself is the bride awaiting marriage.

Zhong Zhiling murmured, “Hmm,” with clear concern: “This month, only our online data is bright—offline orders will look terrible. I wonder if it’ll affect future negotiations.”

Whether Guai Ai Net’s expansion from campus to society succeeds or not—these are two entirely different things.

If successful, its potential customer base expands enormously.

If not, Guai Ai Net may only be able to linger within campus ecosystems.

Two different outcomes mean vastly different valuations upon buyer contact.

Yu Xing said nothing.

Moments later, the apartment echoed with keyboard tapping—Zhong Zhiling, still on customer service duty, answered more client questions.

After a while, Yu Xing crushed his cigarette in the ashtray and smiled: “You’re right—this poor offline performance is a serious problem. We need to fix it.”

Zhong Zhiling perked up, ready to hear his senior brother’s magic solution for expanding into the social market.

Though both had transitioned from campus to entrepreneurship, his senior brother—the soul of this venture—had already proven his vision, ability, and decisiveness.

If the offline expansion problem could be solved, Guai Ai Net would have ample room to maneuver.

“Since this month’s offline orders look bad, let’s blend last month’s orders into this month’s—then they balance out,” Yu Xing suppressed the urge to light another cigarette. “They’re our internal orders anyway—who cares which month they’re from? We can slightly tweak the original data and order contracts. As for the clients’ contracts…”

He rolled his eyes: “By probability, most clients won’t redeem theirs. Of the few who do, it’ll be three years later—we can simply replace their contracts, changing the college couple’s three-year term to the social couple’s two-year term, claiming it reduces client anxiety over redemption time—perfectly seamless.”

Alter dates, swap contracts, shorten timelines.

As for how this shortened timeline affects final redemption probability…

The company will be sold anyway—so it’s someone else’s problem.

Zhong Zhiling stared, dumbfounded, rising involuntarily from his chair—was this his senior brother’s magic solution?

But it did solve the problem of this month’s terrible offline orders.

Yes, it was only a band-aid!

But the root issue? That’s exactly what we plan to hand off to someone else!

“Senior Brother…” Zhong Zhiling switched to formal address, “Senior Brother, you really are my Senior Brother!”

Yu Xing shook his head, sighing: “That’s why they say many hands make light work—always able to spot gaps and fill them. If we’d waited until we met buyers to improvise, mistakes would’ve been likely. Zhong Zhiling, your question was truly valuable.”

Solving a problem is a skill—no matter how you solve it.

But spotting a problem is also a skill!

In the apartment, the two brothers praised each other, humbly, joyful over resolving a hidden threat to the company.

“Keep handling clients. I’m going for a walk, think through what else we might’ve missed,” Yu Xing tucked his cigarette into his pocket, took his phone, and added: “Soften your tone, add some conversational particles—pretend you’re a female customer service rep. Communication moves faster.”

Zhong Zhiling had no objections.

The night in Shanghai in early August remained scorching hot.

Yet the heat didn’t deter students from going out—the area around the university town was just as lively.

Yu Xing had grown accustomed to evening walks since arriving in Shanghai; it helped him reflect on the company and his future, especially since dozens of rivers here were perfect for strolling.

He walked along the riverbank, his mind filled with his conversation with Zhong Zhiling and the latest developments of these past days.

Unconsciously, he’d wandered far from the apartment; other walkers had grown sparse.

Yu Xing stretched, pulled out his phone—no new messages.

He thought a moment, scrolled through his contacts, and sent a message to Sister Ying: Check on the black cat.

Ten seconds later, Liu Wan Ying replied, puzzled: Wasn’t the last one I sent you the black cat?

Then she sent a photo of a black cat.

Yu Xing looked at the photo, disappointed—it was just a cat, nothing more.

He checked the previous MMS—ah, last time it was a white cat.

So Sister Ying’s roommate clearly loved cats—she had more than one.

Yu Xing replied: I love cats. Why are you still up so late?

Liu Wan Ying: Just about to rest. What about you, Boss Yu?

Yu Xing: Walking by the river, thinking about the company’s future.

Liu Wan Ying: Guai Ai Net is doing well. I saw the news about NetEase shutting down its service—you even got rid of a director. NetEase still has some dignity left.

Yu Xing: Haha, lucky. I was just thinking—if it had been Penguin, it might’ve been useless. They just ignore you. People might be desensitized to Penguin—might get nothing at all.

Liu Wan Ying: Results matter. Penguin doesn’t have NetEase’s business foundation—you can’t even try to piggyback on them. But I noticed NetEase’s stock dropped.

Yu Xing: Really? How much? I didn’t pay attention.

Liu Wan Ying: Down 0.5%. Over a hundred million CNY.

Yu Xing thought a moment, then replied: That’s got nothing to do with me. Just normal market fluctuation.

Liu Wan: Hahaha, I think you should stick this on your face from now on—pull it out whenever you meet someone and brag: “Even NetEase’s stock dropped because of my move.”

Yu Xing was just about to reply when a flash of inspiration suddenly crossed his mind.

The insight vanished too quickly—he couldn’t grasp what it was.

Yu Xing frowned, didn’t reply to Sister Ying, and instead walked slowly while pondering: What thought had just flashed through his mind?

He found nothing along the way.

As he neared his apartment, Yu Xing realized it was impolite not to reply, so he pulled out his phone and saw the previous text exchange.

—Down 0.5%, that’s over a hundred million CNY.

—NetEase, such a huge company, saw its stock drop because of my action.

One hundred million—moved by me.

That hundred million clearly wasn’t due to Guiai.com’s influence; dating was just a peripheral business for NetEase, at best a minor expansion effort, and Guiai.com’s tiny stir couldn’t even afford media coverage without paying bribes, let alone affect the U.S. stock market.

But could there be even the tiniest, tiniest, tiniest bit of influence?

If you paste gold on your face, even 1% influence counts.

One percent of a hundred million is still one million.

How long would a person have to laboriously haul bricks to earn one million, let alone the hundred million NetEase lost?

Yu Xing thought of his own company’s business—Guiai.com earned money from students; this month had confirmed it was nearly impossible to profit from social clients—all poor students. How many orders would it take to reach a hundred million?

He now knew what that fleeting thought had been.

Both are about making money, but robbing the rich to aid the poor seems faster and more profitable.

Earning from poor students can’t compare to earning from the wealthy.

A slight ripple from the wealthy equals lifetimes of effort from countless others.

Yu Xing dialed Liu Wan’s number.

“Why are you calling?” Liu Wan sounded puzzled. “I’ve already gone to bed, even turned off the lights.”

“I just suddenly felt like chatting. Today I gave an interview to Tencent—remember that resource you helped me with? That young reporter is a subordinate of your friend, right?” Yu Xing’s thoughts were growing dangerously charged, yet his voice remained calm. “She’s quite interesting—I think she and NetEase’s Song Yufeng might be into each other.”

Liu Wan thought for a few seconds: “Song Yufeng—that NetEase reporter who interviewed you, right? What’s he up to now?”

“He’s temporarily helping out at our company. If Guiai.com sells successfully, he’ll probably join us in developing new projects.” Yu Xing replied.

Liu Wan laughed incredulously: “And you’ll go plant grapes together?”

“Hey, I just find his transformation interesting. I taught Zhong Zhiling some management insights—using people to control people. I taught his girlfriend to treat others with sincerity.” Yu Xing smiled. “Maybe Song Yufeng is also suited to using people to control people.”

Liu Wan chewed over those two phrases twice: “Using people to control people… treating others with sincerity… hmm, you really do have ideas.”

Yu Xing’s smile faded; his expression in the night was hazy. “Yes, I have ideas. Ah, the ancients said it well: ‘The way of controlling sincerity allows foreknowledge.’”

Liu Wan corrected him: “They said ‘the way of utmost sincerity.’ Which ‘controlling’ are you using?”

“Close enough. All the same in the end.” Yu Xing said seriously. “I just suddenly had an epiphany—yes, the way of controlling sincerity allows foreknowledge.”

Liu Wan felt the topic had veered off, but she wasn’t in a hurry to sleep. She just laughed: “Fine, fine, you’ve had your epiphany.”

Yu Xing slowly inhaled and exhaled, as if completing a perilous leap in his mind.

He ventured: “I didn’t reply to your text because I was thinking on the way—NetEase, such a giant, did indeed fluctuate. That fluctuation can be exploited. If we can foresee such fluctuations—or even better, make them happen when they don’t—then we’ll definitely profit.”

“Short selling,” Liu Wan yawned. “Not bad. I can already see you’re about to jump into another pit. When you sell Guiai.com and want to start another project to pay off debts, don’t come begging me for loans again.”

Yu Xing fell silent for a few seconds, then asked: “It’s late. Sister Ying, what’s your dream?”

“Me? I want to work hard and buy a mansion in Xiangjiang.” Liu Wan laughed. “Why suddenly ask about my dream? Are you trying to control me now?”

Yu Xing’s dangerous thought had receded; now he spoke sincerely: “Yeah, I really want to control you.”

The other end of the line went silent. The night air seemed to turn deadly.

Yu Xing quickly said: “Get some rest, Sister Ying. I need to go upstairs.”

“Pfft.” Liu Wan hung up, tossed the phone under her pillow, and closed her eyes.

Yet, the words she’d just heard seemed to echo in her ears: two reporters who liked each other, using people to control people, treating others with sincerity…

Compared to her dull job, what was happening over there was far more exciting.

Just as Liu Wan was about to dispel the thoughts, something struck her.

She pulled out her phone and scrolled through the MMS she’d sent Yu Xing earlier—but she’d casually deleted it.

Still, the photo metadata remained.

She’d eaten at her roommate’s twice recently. The first visit’s photo showed only a white cat; the black cat she’d just sent was taken two days ago.

The white cat was photographed on her lap; the black cat was on the table.

Liu Wan studied the earlier photo closely, snorted, locked her phone, and set it down.

Deep night returned to silence.

Liu Wan yawned, curled her long legs.

She murmured work-related thoughts—and fell asleep in under a minute.

…

Guiai.com’s offline expansion was extremely difficult, but it still had to continue.

Yu Xing wasn’t the type to retreat; he was willing to lead by example, joining college students to offer the most beautiful blessings to society’s couples.

Unfortunately, the difficulty lay in the fact that most people rejected blessings.

Fortunately, the work had many facets. Guiai.com had new hopes this month: waiting for Tencent’s decision on publication, and waiting for Song Yufeng to secure a spot at next month’s Internet Conference.

Also, Yu Xing was still replying to interactions on CampusNet.

CampusNet was a uniquely special social platform since the dawn of China’s internet—it was now wildly popular among college students and brought Guiai.com’s online store substantial traffic.

Yu Xing knew CampusNet’s achievements: after its IPO, its market cap once reached several billion U.S. dollars, ranking just behind BAT.

But that was its peak. Times changed rapidly; neither CampusNet nor Renren managed the perilous leap.

Ironically, Guiai.com’s struggle to expand from campus to society mirrored CampusNet’s own fate: it rebranded as Renren, attempting to broaden its user base and transform into China’s version of Facebook—but the difficulty exceeded imagination.

The line between college students and society wasn’t just present in Guiai.com’s business—it had become a rope, directly choking CampusNet’s attempt to become “Renren.”

Still, CampusNet’s current user quality remained high. Though many came to offer chaotic advice, some genuinely enthusiastic users gave serious suggestions.

“Yu Xing, I think Guiai.com shouldn’t rush into society. Since you’ve already started here, you should root yourselves on campus.”

“Campus market brand recognition is relatively easy to build. If Guiai.com can develop steadily on campus, your revenue will grow steadily, establishing a soft moat.”

“Brands like Century Love and Zhenai have stronger resources, but they only have influence in society—they’re extremely weak on campus. You should leverage your strengths, not pit your weaknesses against their strengths.”

Yu Xing felt Ni Man, whose campus was verified as “Shoujingmao,” spoke with good sense.

But Guiai.com was never designed for longevity.

He still carried yesterday’s dangerous thought—and now, encountering such sincere advice, he merged the two into his thinking.

“Have you read Liu Cixin’s ‘Hearing the Dao’? It says—just as a primitive man looked up at the stars, the Risk Eliminator’s warning system activated.”

“The Risk Eliminator is the alien entity tasked with eliminating threats that could destroy the universe.”

“People wondered why the warning system triggered, but the Risk Eliminator explained: when life becomes aware of the universe’s mysteries, it stands one step away from unraveling them.”

“If that primitive man’s minutes of gazing at the cosmos were seeing a gem, all subsequent human civilization was merely bending down to pick it up.”

“Though difficult, though dangerous, once we take this step, success will come eventually.”

Yu Xing replied with a romantic tone—but in his mind, he was thinking of the giants’ fluctuations.

The way of controlling sincerity allows foreknowledge. When he began contemplating profit from giant fluctuations, he was already close to claiming such profits.

Much later, Ni Man from Shoujingmao replied: “You’re awesome! I’ll wait for you to bend down and pick it up! Don’t forget to tell me!”

Yu Xing chuckled, didn’t reply.

But after a while, Ni Man seemed still annoyed and sent another message: “You’re really awesome!”

Yu Xing burst into laughter, accepting the praise.

His laughter immediately infected the third-in-command walking into the office.

Zhong Zhiling arrived with his lunchbox, smiling: “Big Brother Xing, did Tencent give news? Or did Century Love or Zhenai respond?”

“Nope. I just thought how romantic I am as a college student.” Yu Xing beamed.

Zhong Zhiling internally raised an eyebrow—did his senior sometimes go crazy?

Then again, the company was under heavy pressure. This online traffic surge might hit a turning point anytime, and once gone, it’d be nearly impossible to recapture.

He handed over the lunchbox, muttering: “We’re just waiting for Tencent’s reply. I used to trash them, but this time, please give us coverage.”

“The company is like a bride-to-be, looking for a matchmaker.” Yu Xing picked up his chopsticks. “Huh, using a matchmaker to find a ‘matchmaker company’—how ironic.”

Zhong Zhiling clasped his hands: “Matchmaker, bless us and help us find a perfect husband!”

But no matter how much they chanted or clasped, Tencent remained silent—even Song Yufeng’s urging had no effect.

This continued until August 12. Offline orders were abysmal; online traffic had turned downward. Yu Xing grew restless and considered releasing a sensational rumor on CampusNet to grab attention.

That night, Song Yufeng finally delivered good news: the article would be published tomorrow.

Yu Xing, Zhong Zhiling, and Lu Haiying—who learned the news over the phone—were all energized.

The next day, Tencent published as promised: an article titled “From Medicine to Business: A College Student’s Ambition Targets Millions.”

Yu Xing immediately read the interview and found many sections deleted; what remained was even more arrogant.

Hmm. Acceptable.

Now we’ll see if it stirs up any waves.

Unexpectedly, the article was still hot. That same night, Yu Xing received a call from Zhenai—and received an offer with lightning speed.

“Your project’s interesting. 450,000 yuan. What do you think?”

Guiai.com, operating for less than two months, received its first offer: 450,000 yuan.

Yu Xing firmly declined, then calmly hung up—like a primitive man gazing at the stars, or already beginning his perilous leap.