Chapter 84: 082 Departure (5k)

On November 11, Pengcheng experienced a light rain, and temperatures dropped slightly.

Yu Xing booked a flight back to Shencheng that day and finally made up his mind to move from the guesthouse to a hotel—a final luxury before his return.

This was because the guesthouse had terrible soundproofing; at night, when no one was asleep, the noises from the neighboring room… listen, it was inappropriate; don’t listen, and they drilled into his ears—resulting in restless tossing and turning.

There was nothing left to do in Pengcheng; Yu Xing submitted his identity information and became a co-beneficiary of the trust with Liu Wan, and signed multiple targeted clauses to control the shell company.

Honestly, being a co-beneficiary gave him the illusion that their relationship was more stable than a romantic one.

Yu Xing had originally planned to visit Xiangjiang, but without a Hong Kong and Macao pass, he could only sigh at the border.

At seven p.m., he tentatively sent Liu Qiangdong a text message, again expressing his confidence in JD’s future—but received no reply.

After a while, Yu Xing idly turned on the TV and called his father.

“What? Fired?” Yu Guosheng knew about the three-month ordeal and understood it was just procedural, but he was still surprised by the early termination.

Yu Xing said calmly, “It’s fine—salary’s still being paid. Today, while I’m still here, I bought you two gifts.”

“Oh, you’re still getting paid? Good.” Yu Guosheng’s attention shifted to the gifts. “Did you buy me cigarettes in Pengcheng? What do they smoke over there?”

“I saw they smoke ‘Hao Rizi,’ but I didn’t buy any—I usually buy ‘Furongwang.’” Yu Xing answered, “I didn’t buy you cigarettes. My mom called me a couple days ago and said she’d help me keep you committed to quitting smoking. So I bought you the Pengcheng Evening News—today’s issue has an article on Pengcheng’s development spirit. I thought it’d make a nice keepsake.”

Yu Guosheng praised: “That’s good. Such a city doesn’t really have local specialties—bringing back a newspaper is actually meaningful.”

He then asked, as was his habit: “So what did you buy for your mom?”

Yu Xing replied: “I bought her a gold necklace.”

Yu Guosheng: “...”

Silence. Silence was the gold necklace tonight.

“Hey, hey, is the signal bad?” Yu Xing was puzzled. “Dad, Dad, say something.”

Yu Guosheng took a deep breath and questioned: “You treat your father and mother so differently?!”

“You’re a public servant—I could buy you a big gold necklace?” Yu Xing laughed. “Besides, in my heart, my dad has never been materialistic.”

Yu Guosheng insisted: “This one can be materialistic!”

“No, I won’t reduce my dad to an object!” Yu Xing held firm to his principle. “I’m bringing the spring breeze of Pengcheng to my old man at the rural machinery bureau.”

Yu Guosheng fell silent for a moment: “Don’t make it too materialistic—just bring one pack of cigarettes. Just one. Can’t you even do that?”

Yu Xing finally agreed: “Alright, I’ll buy one tomorrow and put it in my bag.”

Seeing his son agree so readily, Yu Guosheng guessed: “How much did you spend on your mom’s necklace?”

“Don’t ask—it’ll upset you,” Yu Xing advised.

After a few seconds of hesitation, Yu Guosheng quietly ended the call, comforting himself: At least he got one pack of cigarettes—and besides, there was the spirit of the special zone.

Yu Xing had just happily put down his phone when Liu Qiangdong, who hadn’t replied to the text, called directly.

“I heard you went to Zhen’ai.com?” Liu Qiangdong’s opening line stunned Yu Xing.

“How did you know about this?” Yu Xing was surprised—he was just an unknown nobody.

“Last week I met JD’s investor Xu Xin. We talked about different stages of the internet, and she agreed with me,” Liu Qiangdong explained directly. “I mentioned it was a medical student’s speech at an internet conference, but he created this weird Zhen’ai.com. She said her husband bought your company and you stayed on.”

Yu Xing laughed: “Yes, I was at Zhen’ai.com before, but I left just a few days ago.”

This time, Liu Qiangdong was surprised: “You’re not there anymore?”

“Yeah, I’ve started a small team to build a career-focused website,” Yu Xing said openly. “When it’s ready, I hope JD employees will join.”

Liu Qiangdong sighed: “I think your judgment of the internet is insightful—e-commerce has huge potential.”

Yu Xing still declined: “We’ve already contacted angel investors. If we succeed, I hope you’ll recommend me to more investors.”

“No problem—as long as your website has value,” Liu Qiangdong smiled. “If something’s valuable, investors will commit.”

Yu Xing sensed the implication: “So I should congratulate JD on getting through its crisis. Honestly, when I sold my company, I was most worried about my team—only after getting Zhen’ai.com’s promise of good treatment did I finally breathe easier.”

Though he couldn’t remember some of their names, the fact remained.

He added: “Liu Zong, I’m also a JD user, but whenever I use JD or Taobao, I feel their payment system is severely flawed—JD needs its own payment system.”

Yu Xing genuinely used JD, but with his later maturity, he saw that JD still had no payment system of its own—online payments relied entirely on third parties like online banking and Alipay, which felt strange and awkward.

Liu Qiangdong dismissed it: “Payment isn’t useful. You know JD strongly supports cash-on-delivery—that’s how we built trust with users. That’s our main thing. Do you know what percentage that is?”

“80%,” Yu Xing replied.

Liu Qiangdong froze—he’d guessed right.

Yu Xing hadn’t guessed randomly; in fact, the criticism that JD was too late to build its own payment system came from Liu Qiangdong himself—he later listed it as his biggest mistake in eleven years at JD.

Liu Qiangdong swallowed his words, calmed himself, and said seriously: “Many of our products are high-priced, which naturally makes customers wary. I think online banking, Kuaiqian, Tenpay, and Alipay are enough.”

Yu Xing was happy to stir up these giants and future giants. He offered his view: “Liu Zong, from a competitive standpoint, Taobao has launched Taobao Mall, targeting B2C—it aims to dominate China’s e-commerce market. If you’re still using your competitor’s interface, and Taobao Mall starts offering subsidies or discounts on payment channels, users might just drift away.”

“From an industry perspective, online and mobile payments will inevitably grow faster. Payment isn’t just a tool—it’ll become an account system.”

“From the competitor’s perspective, Alibaba built Alipay, Tencent built Tenpay—do you think those two are easy opponents?”

“Liu Zong, I’m not telling you to start tomorrow—just try it when you have even a little spare capacity.”

Yu Xing spoke at length, hoping to intensify competition among these players.

Liu Qiangdong thought for a while, not looking down on the college student entrepreneur, and said: “I’ll discuss this. Right now we have no capacity, but your point is valid—I’ll think about it. I need to think more.”

“Yeah, oh, one more thing I wanted to ask you—it’s related to my current career website.” Yu Xing asked, “Has JD frozen its management trainee program this year?”

Liu Qiangdong chuckled: “Yu Zong, you’re really paying attention to JD. This year’s situation is tough—we’ve scaled back.”

“I’m working on this exact information now. I’m especially focused on college graduate employment—I want to give them accurate updates.” Yu Xing said seriously. “Liu Zong, since JD is about to ease its financial pressure, how many management trainees will you hire? I really think your program is excellent.”

Liu Qiangdong was pleased to receive outside recognition.

JD’s management trainee program had only started last year. The first thing he did after securing $10 million in funding wasn’t logistics—it was launching the trainee program, aiming to continuously cultivate talent.

He paused briefly, then said: “Once this funding round is finalized, we’ll restore the training scale. Last year we hired only two people. This year we planned for twenty, but due to financial pressure, we’ve reduced it to eight.”

Internally, JD called the program “Jingyinghui,” and took it seriously.

“The internet develops too fast—even a financial crisis can’t stop it,” Yu Xing smiled. “I just graduated. My last project’s staff were all students, and even our customers were mostly on campus. I know how lost and anxious they feel stepping out of school. Liu Zong, if JD, despite its crisis, still insists on training twenty talents, that might one day become a celebrated story.”

Liu Qiangdong said: “You’re… surprisingly considerate of others. Would you like to join? Come discuss the future of electronic payments.”

“If my project fails, I’ll come to JD,” Yu Xing laughed. “Liu Zong, one more question—what’s Xu Xin’s management style?”

“She has great vision and boldness. This trainee program was my idea, but I adopted her suggestion,” Liu Qiangdong said slowly. “But she’s very forceful—she likes to interfere in the operations of her invested companies.”

Yu Xing was surprised: “She interferes in JD’s operations?”

“No,” Liu Qiangdong said, a hint of pride in his voice. “She’s forceful—but I’m more forceful. If you’re going to seek more funding, let me give you a small tip.”

He paused two seconds, then gave advice: “Be careful of investors—they’re all cunning.”

Yu Xing asked bluntly: “Including Xu Xin?”

Liu Qiangdong smiled but didn’t answer.

But the answer was obvious.

Yu Xing sketched out a few investor archetypes, then asked: “Liu Zong, can I publish your trainee program details? I’d use them on the website—talk about JD’s bright future, but also mention past pressures.” Liu Qiangdong laughed: “Is that okay?”

“A warrior’s scars are medals,” Yu Xing said. “JD facing pressure isn’t shameful—after overcoming it, looking back, it’s something everyone should see. It might even attract more talent.”

Liu Qiangdong didn’t care—he agreed: “Fine.”

“One last thing, Liu Zong—do you have Ma Zong’s number? I’d like to get some campus recruitment info.” Yu Xing didn’t hide his intent.

Liu Qiangdong thought: “Which Ma Zong?”

“Any one will do—better if you have both,” Yu Xing smiled.

“I’ll send it to you,” Liu Qiangdong said finally. “If your project fails, come to me.”

Yu Xing laughed: “If it fails, I’ll definitely come—but don’t forget to introduce me to investors!”

The conversation with the future tycoon ended.

Yu Xing put down his phone and carefully wrote down all the information he’d gained from the call. Besides using the internet dating company scandal to attract traffic, his plan for Baixiaosheng was to provide valuable information on corporate campus recruitment.

This year was unusual—the financial crisis had caused many companies to lay off staff, and campus recruitment and internships for students were similarly affected.

Yu Xing was familiar with the campus sector and wasn’t about to miss its value—he was willing to act as an information bridge between schools and companies, fully committing to vertical segmentation.

When he put down his pen and reviewed his conversation with Liu Qiangdong, he picked it up again and wrote a few words on his notebook.

—The limitations of tycoons.

Tycoons are undoubtedly powerful—sharp-eyed, skilled, decisive—but they’re also bound by the limitations of their era. Like Liu Qiangdong—he currently believes payment has little value.

Yu Xing felt that beyond stirring up the situation, exploiting these tycoons’ current limitations could reveal greater profit opportunities.

He drew several circles with his pen and fell into deep thought.

Shortly after, his phone received a message from Liu Qiangdong—containing the phone numbers of Alibaba’s and Tencent’s two Mas.

Yu Xing created a new contact in his address book and recalled the famous six degrees of separation theory: “You’re separated from any stranger by no more than six people—meaning you can reach anyone through at most six connections.”

So, how to obtain information on companies after the financial crisis?

Six degrees of separation—mobilize everyone possible.

He could not ignore the anxiety of his juniors and seniors!

That anxiety was one of Baixiaosheng’s growth drivers!

Yu Xing still had the alumni client data from Zhen’ai.com—he’d originally planned to redeem roses for them once he succeeded. Now, they were probably already employed by various companies.

Customer follow-up!

Customer assistance!

…

On November 13, Yu Xing flew back to Shencheng.

This time, instead of taking the airport bus, he was picked up by Song Yufeng, chairman of Baixiaosheng.

“Where’d you get the car?” Yu Xing asked curiously.

Song Yufeng grinned: “An employee’s.”

Yu Xing chuckled in amazement: “Not bad—you’ve done well here.”

He went to Pengcheng, and Song Yufeng and the other two handled all the work on Baixiaosheng’s end: renting office space, finding apartments, hiring staff, running the internal test… everything was done exceptionally well.

“It’s all thanks to your guidance, Xingge,” Song Yufeng said sincerely. “I’m becoming more and more confident about the website’s future.”

Yu Xing nodded: “Mm. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have brought your girlfriend here.”

Song Yufeng smiled and casually shared how his romance was developing.

Yu Xing listened with deep emotion. Damn, everyone else was paired up, and here he was, all alone—this wasn’t fair at all.

As they chatted along, the car slowed as it neared Baixiaosheng’s headquarters, and the scenery outside made Yu Xing fall silent.

“Xingge, we asked about dozens of office buildings,” Song Yufeng said, keenly observing his boss’s expression—after all, he had his own value positioning in the company. “First, we checked out the HSBC Tower in Pudong. Guess how much a 200-square-meter office there costs?”

Yu Xing mused: “At least 60, 70, or 80 thousand?”

Song Yufeng replied: “One hundred thousand!”

Yu Xing shook his head: “We can’t afford that.”

“Lü Haiying, Zhong Zhiling, and I just wanted to see what the world was like. The HSBC Tower charged 16 yuan per square meter per day—that’s even after the financial crisis lowered prices,” Song Yufeng laughed. “Then we checked Century Commerce Center—also 100,000 yuan a month.”

“Henglong Plaza? 75,000.”

“Bank of China? 70,000. Xiansile Plaza? 60,000…”

“We kept asking around, and finally settled on Shuohe International in Yangpu—12,000 yuan a month.”

As Song Yufeng spoke, the car slowed to a stop—they’d arrived.

Baixiaosheng’s headquarters: the sixth floor of Shuohe International, Yangpu, Shencheng.

Shuohe International had seven floors. Though called “International” and labeled an office building, it was surrounded on all sides by residential neighborhoods—just a commercial development built by the developer.

Yu Xing stepped out of the car. Before him was a small supermarket on the first floor of the office building, with grilled sausages displayed at the entrance. He turned his head—the windows of the residential buildings across the street were filled with drying quilts and clothes.

He stood at the entrance of the residential compound. A few steps ahead, the ground was pitted and uneven. Further down the roadside stood an ancient tree, its bare branches drooping lifelessly, not a single leaf remaining.

Yu Xing looked up at the sixth-floor company and realized that if they opened a window, they’d see the power lines strung along the roadside.

“Sss…”

Standing below the building, Yu Xing felt only one thing: Shit. Shit.

“Xingge, our apartment’s inside the compound—super convenient for commuting,” Song Yufeng said, parking the car and hurrying over to explain. “There’s a fruit shop, a vegetable market, spicy hotpot, soup dumplings, and a Hualian Supermarket. Life’s pretty convenient.”

Yu Xing felt he’d made the mistake of raising his expectations too high.

He smiled: “It’s fine. Twelve thousand yuan is worth it.”

After all, this place was jokingly called Shencheng’s Siberia.

“How far is it from here to the financial center?” Yu Xing asked.

“Uh, about twelve kilometers,” Song Yufeng estimated.

Yu Xing perked up: “Before, from Songjiang University Town to the financial center, it was forty-two kilometers. Now, in just over three months, we’ve cut it down to twelve! That’s a big improvement!”

Song Yufeng nodded vigorously—improvement or not, it was cheap!

He took two steps forward, then added: “Xingge, you’ve got to show respect to our accountant.”

Yu Xing frowned: “Why? Did you hire some big shot from another company?”

Song Yufeng declared solemnly: “She’s our landlord. We rent our apartment from her—she owns the buildings in this compound.”

Yu Xing: “…”

He walked into the office building and sighed: “Then we definitely should show her respect. Did she give us a discount?”

“Of course she did—kind of bundled sales,” Song Yufeng explained the previous arrangement.

Yu Xing pressed the button for the sixth floor and stepped into the elevator with the chairman, entering the new headquarters of the new project.

Baixiaosheng welcomed its actual controller—and with him, the signal for its voyage began.

(End of Chapter)