Chapter 7: 006 Understanding the Law (4.9K)

Whether you believe the 1.5% or the 6%, both figures are extremely low; if you instinctively accept them without reviewing the survey report, it means everyone doubts the future of college student couples.

Did the dating contract emerge because people believe in the future of couples?

On the contrary, its profitability stems precisely from the lack of confidence in couples’ futures.

But judgments made by oneself, to some extent, are deeper and more convincing than mere passive observation of data.

Liu Wan’s mind turned the thought over in an instant and understood this point; she grew even more convinced that her brother’s student possessed maturity beyond his years.

Yu Xing observed her expression and, sensing that Sister Ying truly grasped his meaning, continued to elaborate: “First, we consider whether this project and this business are viable, then whether they’re good. Sister Ying, though I haven’t done any research, my intuition tells me this data is better than the 1.5% I initially mentioned.”

“Our shared consensus on the trajectory of couples determines whether this is a viable business; the actual probability—possibly under 1.5%, even 1%—determines whether it’s a decent business at a certain scale.”

Listening to the college student’s logical exposition, Liu Wan paused to consider the precision of “at a certain scale,” and genuinely developed an interest in discussing it with him.

She asked two questions: “Do you have a rough target user base? This project clearly cannot be limited to students alone; if you expand from students to society, even if your 1% figure is accurate, the overall data after mixing may decline, costs will inevitably rise, and this business may quickly lose its appeal—and could hit a bottleneck.”

If it runs well, early user growth will show a promising curve, but once it reaches a certain point, you must increase investment to sustain growth—yet then, whether it can still be called “good” becomes debatable.

Yu Xing couldn’t answer Sister Gu’s probing, because just as he was about to speak, the front door opened.

He could only temporarily halt the topic with one sentence: “That’s a problem we can only refine after we’ve got some money.”

Yu Xing stood up to greet Teacher Liu Jingrong and his wife Yan Lirong.

At thirty-seven, Liu Jingrong was already an associate professor at Nan Medical University, in the prime of his career, yet he seemed… rather lax in his work, more content with his current life and seeking daily pleasures.

Liu Jingrong carried a large bag of groceries; upon entering, he saw his two disciples had already arrived and grinned enthusiastically: “Come, come, today taste my cooking—we’re not eating out.”

“Big brother, your cooking…” Liu Wan offered a small objection, “we’re fine, but we should treat Sister Rong well.”

Liu Jingrong’s wife Yan Lirong was pregnant with her second child and visibly swollen; she was unsuited to the exertions of the kitchen.

“Don’t worry,” Liu Jingrong said confidently, “I’ve learned a lot of new dishes lately.” He called out, “Zhong Zhiling, come here—help me in the kitchen, and tell me how your cardiomyocytes are doing.”

Zhong Zhiling’s heart jolted; he looked helplessly at his senior brother but received no response—this, this…

What was there to say? The cardiomyocytes in the petri dish had been thoroughly ruined by his own hands!

He shuffled to the kitchen door, glanced back at his senior brother chatting merrily with his wife and sister, and truly wished he could swap places with him…

Zhong Zhiling endured ten minutes of drenched sweat; soon he realized Teacher Liu’s frantic energy was mostly spent just handling the food, so he calmed himself and joined in the chaos.

About twenty minutes later, Yu Xing poked his head out of the kitchen, chatted briefly, noticed their disarray, and volunteered: “Teacher, let me take over—you’ve never tasted my cooking.”

Liu Jingrong, drenched in sweat, stubbornly insisted for a moment before making the right decision.

“Zhong Zhiling, you go out too—there’s nothing left for you to do; I’ll just make something simple,” Yu Xing rolled up his sleeves, ignoring the poor guy’s pleading gaze, and casually dismissed him to the living room.

“Alright, Zhong Zhiling, come here—I’ll send you a few papers to read these days,” Liu Jingrong called out the reluctant Zhong Zhiling.

Zhong Zhiling stepped out of the kitchen, glanced back at his busy senior brother, then at Teacher, Sister Rong, and Sister Ying in the living room… what was going on? Suddenly, he really wanted to swap places with Brother Xing again…

But he couldn’t swap—he couldn’t even cook…

With worries on his mind, Zhong Zhiling sweated more the more he answered Teacher and Sister Rong’s questions, and the more he sweated, the more he stammered—this continued until dishes began arriving from the kitchen.

Liu Jingrong’s cooking had failed; everyone had mentally prepared for a mediocre lunch—but unexpectedly, Yu Xing’s dishes tasted quite good.

“Not bad, Yu Xing—next time you come over for dinner, you’re in charge of the kitchen,” Liu Jingrong praised his senior disciple with genuine surprise.

“No problem,” Yu Xing smiled warmly. “I’m always available. My culinary progress will depend entirely on this kitchen from now on.”

Liu Jingrong was delighted, thinking his disciple seemed unusually cheerful today; he looked at the tense Zhong Zhiling and felt he was far too nervous.

He kindly comforted the nervous disciple, chatted a few moments, then heard his sister Liu Wan and his senior disciple begin discussing topics he couldn’t quite follow.

“The dating contract is basically a bet, right? I just thought about it for a bit—it’s actually quite interesting. But besides operational issues, it has a major flaw: it’s easy to copy, with no barriers to entry,” Liu Wan took a bite of lotus root, finding it crisp and fragrant.

“Sister Ying, that’s true—but that’s a problem only worth considering once you’ve reached a certain scale,” Yu Xing said seriously; unlike the bewildered junior, this sister was someone who could genuinely discuss the project’s merits and feasibility.

Liu Wan shook her head, disagreeing: “Too optimistic. What exactly do you mean by ‘a certain scale’? If you don’t consider it now, won’t it be too late when you finally do?”

“Sister Ying…” Yu Xing’s pause was interrupted by the teacher.

Liu Jingrong suddenly realized something was off: “Wait, Yu Xing, you’ve mixed up the seniority. You call her ‘sister,’ but what do you call me?”

Yu Xing looked at his teacher with innocent confusion.

Liu Wan spoke up: “Then what should I be called? Aunt? Uncle’s wife? Grandma? Must you make me sound old? You stick to your system, I’ll stick to mine.”

Zhong Zhiling stared longingly at his sister and senior brother, wanting to climb the seniority ladder too—but no one noticed.

Liu Jingrong glared at his sister, but he was ten years older than her, and she’d always had her own mind—so the glare had zero effect.

“Eat,” Liu Wan said, impressed. “Your cooking isn’t much worse than Rong’s. Your senior disciple is really good.”

Liu Jingrong had no choice but to tacitly accept everyone using their own system.

Yu Xing waited for Sister Ying to settle the seniority issue before returning to the previous topic—but now with a different answer: “I think instead of worrying about those things, we should focus first on how to build scale.”

Liu Wan nodded in agreement; for a startup, without now, there is no future—but failing to consider the future would inevitably spawn new problems.

“If the logic of the project at a certain scale is viable, then the next step is how to execute it,” Yu Xing proposed. “Students will be the initial base, especially over the next month; after that, we must quickly break into society.”

Liu Wan frowned, considering the timeliness in the young man’s words, and shook her head slightly: “Expanding upward is necessary, but I think expanding downward from graduates is also good—for example, a freshman couple who marry upon graduation; that narrative could attract many young clients, and student acquisition is naturally easier.”

Yu Xing’s eyes lit up—he hadn’t considered that.

But he corrected himself: “Not manipulation—growing alongside young users.”

Liu Wan smiled and nodded—yes, that was the right tone.

She didn’t elaborate on the idea, merely mentioned it before continuing: “A project must first be assessed for feasibility; if feasible, then how to execute it—operational costs, ROI, none of these can rely on passion alone. Have you considered… say, a city like Xiangjiang or a region like Huadong—how large a team would be needed?”

Seeing Yu Xing pause his chopsticks and listen intently, Liu Wan continued with a concrete example: “Though revenue from clients and final design payouts leave room for profit, actual operations may quickly be eaten away by costs.”

“If you hire one new employee, and this month he’s lucky and wins over ten couples, he brings in only 5,000 yuan monthly revenue.”

“After covering his salary and subtracting necessary expenses like rent and transportation, how much profit remains?”

“And how difficult is it to acquire ten clients? Given Zhong Zhiling’s performance, could he even get five in a month?”

Zhong Zhiling was suddenly named; he felt a petty sting, silently humiliated.

Liu Wan’s voice remained calm: “Each new employee requires new clients every month—not for one or two months, but continuously. This demands constant expansion, implying an underlying market foundation.”

A project running doesn’t guarantee profit; team size determines most operational costs, and the dating contract is a novel concept—how many people will accept it remains uncertain.

Perhaps it can rapidly attract a batch of clients, but after growth slows, you face the dilemma of balancing increased investment with stimulation—and long-term, you must consider fulfilling promises to clients.

As for market foundation, it defines the upper and lower limits—a holistic perspective.

Liu Wan reevaluated the entrepreneurial vision she’d just heard and smiled: “Looking at it this way, the project still has many flaws. After all, demand for dating contracts isn’t truly rigid; in a sense, it’s an artificially created demand—with limited ceiling and imagination. The longer it runs, the greater the pressure—unless…”

She casually offered a judgment: “Unless we only focus on its early and mid-stage development—it might be a decent plan.”

Liu Wan suddenly had an insight; she studied Yu Xing’s calm face and Zhong Zhiling’s anxious one, paused for a few seconds, then smiled: “But entrepreneurship is hard—you can’t just grab the money and run.”

Yu Xing took a sip of soup, and after hearing Sister Ying’s rapid analysis and this remark, couldn’t help asking: “Sister Ying, what do you do in Xiangjiang?”

“Worked for the Big Four for years, now at Bain as a consultant,” Liu Wan smiled. “Perfectly aligned with my background.”

Yu Xing wanted to raise a toast—perfectly aligned!

The Big Four referred to the world’s four largest accounting firms; Bain was one of the world’s top three consulting firms. No wonder Liu Wan could so swiftly and precisely analyze the project.

“What exactly are you two talking about? What contract? What couples? What clients?” Liu Jingrong, finally catching up, voiced his confusion. “I don’t understand any of this.”

Yu Xing glanced at his teacher and decided to add one more point to this discussion: “I have an idea about cell proliferation via mitosis.”

Liu Jingrong adjusted his glasses and said seriously: “Oh? Explain.”

“Clients, direct sales elements, reduce operational costs,” Yu Xing listed a few terms.

Liu Jingrong: “????”

“She was explaining to me,” Liu Wan grinned, teasing her brother before praising: “If you incorporate proper direct sales elements, it could generate real momentum—this could improve evaluation—but I’ve seen many teams with solid business logic who still fail in execution.”

This was slightly diplomatic; “fail in execution” was a derogatory term—criticizing others, but also implicitly criticizing what had just been said.

Yu Xing caught the implication and asked: “Sister Ying, are you familiar with direct sales and pyramid schemes? What if we limit the hierarchy to under three levels?”

Liu Wan, seeing his frankness, replied directly: “Do you really think three levels are safe? The legal definition bases compensation on the number of people recruited directly or indirectly.”

Yu Xing’s gaze sharpened: “What if we limit hierarchy and give no compensation at all?”

Liu Wan froze—no compensation?

Yu Xing defended his design: “If we have Client A, and he helps recruit others, we don’t give cash splits—only increase the number of roses he can redeem upon marriage. As for whether Client A ever reaches that final 1% who marry? We’ll wait three years to find out.”

He spread his hands: “There’s no compensation during those three years. By probability, even if every client recruits others, 99% will never receive the final reward.”

Paying compensation counts!

But what if you don’t?

Yu Xing continued: “Even if we reach the three-year mark and someone claims our model is problematic, we’re willing to reform—only fulfilling the contractually valid roses for the 1% who truly hold onto love. Anything extra? We won’t count it.”

He said seriously: “In this way, we only borrow direct sales elements to spark some momentum, without ever delivering extra compensation. At worst, even under strict legal enforcement, we’d only be guilty of minor violations.”

Liu Wan, experienced and worldly, stared in disbelief—suddenly, the cook was reading military strategy instead of recipes? The doctor was holding a sickle instead of a scalpel?

Don’t fear a thug’s boldness—fear a thug with culture…

Yu Xing was not only discussing with the consultant but also organizing his own thoughts.

He noticed the growing relief in the poor guy’s eyes, paused a few seconds, then continued: “We don’t do insurance promotion, don’t covertly accept deposits, don’t engage in illegal possession—we’re just betting, purely commercial behavior under the Contract Law.”

He added one final line: “A novel commercial behavior.”

Liu Wan couldn’t help laughing—excellent, one sentence dodged three crimes: “illegal operation,” “illegal public deposit-taking,” and “fraudulent fundraising.” Rare indeed.

She laughed and asked curiously: “Do you have legal counsel? Did you consult a lawyer?”

Yu Xing shook his head slightly; though he hadn’t consulted one, with the business prototype, it was likely recognized or tacitly permitted.

He calmly stated his original intent: “We’re not trying to cheat people for profit. This is a business based on probability. If possible, I hope that in three years, for every single client, we deliver the roses promised at their wedding.”

The merchant is kind. Why clients don’t come to redeem? That’s their own question to answer.

Liu Wan looked deeply at Yu Xing, then smiled at the strangely excited Zhong Zhiling: “Your senior brother understands the law—that’s good. Good for your project, good for you.”

Zhong Zhiling didn’t know why he was excited, but blurted out: “Yes! My senior brother wants me to be the company’s legal representative!”

Liu Wan pursed her lips—hmm… retracted half her words.

He understands the law a little too well.

"Zhong Zhiling, come with me to the study." Liu Jingrong, having caught fragments of the three men’s conversation, stood up with grave seriousness.

Zhong Zhiling looked pleadingly at his senior brother.

Yu Xing shrugged and said, "If you want to be the legal representative, go quickly."

Liu Jingrong frowned, sensing a shadowy mastermind aura emanating from his senior disciple.

In the end, Zhong Zhiling rose reluctantly, stepping into the study where he was forced to confront an unavoidable showdown.

Liu Wan looked at the scene and shook her head, still speaking based on the project she’d heard: "I have two suggestions."

Yu Xing spoke at the same moment: "Sister Ying, I have a humble request."

"If it’s a humble request, then don’t bother saying it," Liu Wan said gracefully. "Still want to hear my suggestions?"

Yu Xing answered bluntly: "Yes!"

Why not listen to free advice from Sister Ying of Bain?