Chapter 94: 092 Fermentation

Not all industries are suited for internetization.

This is a conclusion I reached after deeply engaging with the internet dating industry.

I launched a project in June this year and sold it to a well-known company in the internet dating industry by early October, then joined the company until my de facto resignation in November.

I will reveal everything I observed and subsequently investigated.

First, false information is rampant in the industry.

Second, websites deliberately conceal or even deceive.

Third, mainstream brands manufacture and sell anxiety.

Fourth, flawed performance metrics force employees to sacrifice customer interests.

Fifth, customer data is severely leaked and frequently traded within the industry.

Yu Xing’s pinned article on Baixiaosheng lists the industry’s five sins—not merely listing them, but providing concrete cases and evidence for each point.

“In November, I met a female client who came to our headquarters in tears; she had signed a contract for 19,800 yuan, valid for four months, with a promise of at least six arranged dates.”

“Yet among the four men she had already met, one intended to get pregnant before marriage, another hinted he didn’t want children after marriage, and the other two were utterly unreliable—yet her response was that she hadn’t explicitly stated she rejected premarital pregnancy or childlessness.”

“This is the exact opposite of the promised high-quality resources and high success rates.”

“Similar cases are numerous—see the attached document at the end of the article.”

“If you’re a potential client drawn in by dazzling success stories, filled with longing for love and fantasies of family, you register an account—then you’re bombarded with online spam, encounter salespeople masquerading as ‘teachers,’ get harassed by phone calls into offline one-on-one manipulation, and face opaque, exorbitant packages.”

“You think the person across from you is a refined, returnee beauty or highly educated youth—but in reality, they may already be married; see Case #18 in the document.”

“You’re 25; they’re 52; see Case #31 in the document.”

“When you finally regret it, the salesperson pulls out the contract, crosses their legs; see Case #8 in the document.”

“When I learned these things—and more—I couldn’t help but wonder: can this business model in the internet dating industry truly be sustained?”

“I believe the answer is obvious—extremely obvious.”

But before that messy answer arrives, as someone who once barely counted as part of the industry, I’m willing to lay the problems bare for everyone to see.

“Perhaps, not all industries are suited for internetization.”

“Note: All cases use pseudonyms, but many clients can come forward to verify.”

The article actually written by Song Yufeng lacked excessive emotion, because beneath it were solid, real-world cases as footnotes.

The article was posted at 9 a.m., and within five minutes, it already had many comments.

After nearly two months of effort, Baixiaosheng still had a large proportion of student users, but workplace employees were no longer rare—this time of morning was precisely when they arrived at work and had a moment to slack off; some idly clicked in to check out new employee experiences, only to spot the “Five Sins.”

Then the post was passed from colleague to colleague, friend to friend, and shared across forums.

Many had never interacted with the internet dating industry, but they knew exactly how it worked—and knew how to pass the time on a boring morning.

Baixiaosheng currently allows visitors to browse, but commenting and downloading attachments require registration—yet the detailed cases were all in the document, so many people, eager to watch the spectacle, registered anyway.

Bai Xiaosheng’s current setup allows visitors to browse, but commenting and downloading attachments requires registration—and Pianpian , the detailed case studies in the article are all in the documents, so many people registered just to enjoy the spectacle.

Holy shit—a plain text TXT file was 120KB in size!

Those familiar with TXT encoding immediately realized: this document contained roughly 40,000 to 50,000 Chinese characters!

Those familiar with TXT encoding immediately knew the document contained roughly forty to fifty thousand Chinese characters!

I don’t bother opening work documents—I study gossip documents word by word!

As of Baixiaosheng’s post release, the website had 26,587 registered users; within three hours after posting, that number increased by 4,258—nearly equivalent to a week’s worth of growth.

Song Yufeng forced a smile: “Xing Ge, I saw our post on the campus network…”

Yu Xing nodded: “That’s not surprising—we already have many student users.”

Student users spread the post to the larger campus network, and it’s safe to assume workplace users would do the same.

“Why aren’t they reacting?” Song Yufeng worried—the target of this attack, though unnamed, clearly pointed to the three mainstream brands, and everyone knew whose company had been acquired.

“We’re just a small site—the effect needs time to ferment,” Yu Xing guessed. “Right now, it’s probably just a small PR meeting. Wait. For us, this is both a sprint and a validation.”

The sprint aimed to reach Baixiaosheng’s goal of 50,000 registered users; the validation tested whether Baixiaosheng’s platform prototype was viable.

Baixiaosheng’s positioning was workplace topics—negative topics naturally drew louder responses, but that was theory; practice would prove whether this validation held.

Perhaps lunch break offered more time to watch the show—by 2 p.m., with more comments flooding in, Baixiaosheng’s registered users rose another 2,000.

At 2:30 p.m., Yu Xing received a call from his former boss at Zhen’ai.com.

He answered the phone, left his office, and headed toward a better-soundproofed meeting room.

But on the way, Wei Jialan’s angry voice had already drawn the staff’s attention.

“Yu! What the hell are you trying to do?!”

Yu Xing didn’t answer immediately; he waved his hand at the staff, signaling them to get back to work.

Song Yufeng, at his desk, rolled his eyes, picked up a file, and muttered: “I’ve got something to report.”

He walked into the meeting room.

Nearby, Lu Haiying noticed the boss’s movement and stood up, heading toward the meeting room too—she wanted to see what the boss was reporting.

Other employees didn’t have such freedom, but heated discussions erupted quickly.

“Wei Zong, what’s going on?” Yu Xing pulled out a chair and asked casually.

Wei Jialan snapped: “Yu, what do you mean by this?!”

“What do you mean ‘what do I mean’?” Yu Xing saw Song Yufeng and Lu Haiying enter, flipped on speakerphone, and started recording. “I’m just pointing out problems in the industry—I didn’t name your company.”

Wei Jialan laughed bitterly: “You didn’t name us? Should I thank you? You stole our users’ data—that’s illegal!”

“I didn’t write any company names—all names are pseudonyms,” Yu Xing replied firmly. “How is this your users’ data?”

Wei Jialan grew even more confident: “I can tell at a glance whether these cases came from our company!”

Yu Xing was about to retort when he suddenly felt something was off.

Lu Haiying nearly burst out laughing.

Wei Jialan hadn’t noticed the anomaly yet; seeing silence on the other end, she pressed harder: “Do you know what you’re doing? You’re creating trouble—and bringing trouble on yourself!”

Yu Xing asked sincerely: “Wei Zong, if you identify my pseudonymized cases as your own clients, doesn’t that reveal a problem? Is this how you treat your customers? Who’s really the root cause of the trouble?”

Yu Xing asked sincerely: “Wei Zong, you’ve classified my pseudonymous case as your company’s client—don’t you see a problem here? Is this how you treat your clients? Who’s truly the root cause of the trouble?”

She immediately brushed off the anomaly and snapped: “Yu Xing, delete the post immediately and apologize—or your website won’t survive!”

“Even if I wanted to delete it or apologize, someone in the company wouldn’t let me,” Yu Xing said calmly. “Our chairman, Song Yufeng, won’t allow it.”

Song Yufeng opened his mouth but made no sound.

He thought: Xing Ge didn’t need to bring me up right now…

Wei Jialan frowned: “Who’s Song Yufeng? Are you a gang? What are you after? Public relations money?”

“Song Yufeng used to be a reporter at NetEase—he’s a hardliner,” Yu Xing presented the chairman’s resume. “He couldn’t stand NetEase doing the same thing as Guiai.com, so he quit in protest.”

Wei Jialan had been too angry to think clearly, but now she remembered where she’d heard the name.

She sneered: “Whether it’s Song Yufeng or you, Yu Xing, I advise you to stop now—don’t make this any uglier than it already is!”

“Wei Zong, how can you not understand?” Yu Xing sighed. “You’re the ones who made the industry ugly. If I don’t speak up today, someone else will tomorrow.”

Wei Jialan, seeing he wouldn’t back down, coldly said: “Wait for the lawyer’s letter. Wait to be sued.”

Yu Xing hung up and turned to the chairman: “Get ready for the lawyer’s letter. Later, set up a special section on the site to post them.”

Song Yufeng felt uneasy: “Wei Jialan’s reaction seems fast.”

Silence had been worrying—now that there was reaction, it was worrying too.

Yu Xing shook his head: “We’ve already done it. The hard bones stand at the front.”

Song Yufeng: “…”

Yu Xing warned: “Don’t hesitate—you’ve got your girlfriend watching.”

Kong Huilin from Tencent had joined Baixiaosheng and was currently learning the ropes.

Song Yufeng could only nod silently.

Yu Xing hadn’t finished speaking when the chairman’s phone rang.

“Unknown number,” Song Yufeng glanced at the screen and didn’t answer immediately.

Yu Xing said succinctly: “Speaker.”

Song Yufeng cleared his throat, answered, and turned on speaker: “Hello, this is Song Yufeng.”

“Hello, hello, Chairman Song, this is Chu Xiaoxia from Zhen’ai.com,” came a soft, gentle female voice introducing herself. “I noticed your website published an article about the online dating industry—could you please remove it?”

“Hello, hello, Song Zong, I’m Chu Xiaoxia from Zhen Ai Network,” came a soft, gentle female voice over the phone, introducing herself. “I noticed an article on your website discussing the online dating industry—could you please remove it?”

Chu Xiaoxia patiently continued: “Chairman Song, we believe the article contains some inaccuracies, but it did give us a wake-up call. Our company is already conducting internal reviews, and today’s noon meeting issued clear instructions to protect user interests.”

She added plaintively: “Chairman Song, we’re just workers too—please understand us. We’ve truly started fixing things. Isn’t your post meant to help the industry?”

She said plaintively: “Song Zong, our work isn’t easy—please understand us. We’ve truly started working on this, and your post was meant to benefit the industry, wasn’t it?”

Yu Xing shook his head slightly.

Chu Xiaoxia received no reply and pleaded softly: “You can keep the post—I’ve been assigned to negotiate with you today. How about this: once our internal corrections take effect, I’ll report back to you?”

She continued: “Chairman Song, I’m just a worker too—have mercy on me. I need to show progress today. How about this: I’ll apply for a brand management fee this afternoon—you watch how we clean up our operations, okay?”

Song Yufeng looked again at his boss—his soft side was starting to surface. He opened his mouth—when Yu Xing suddenly reached over and snatched the phone.

Yu Xing hung up immediately.

Then he stared coldly at Song Yufeng: “What were you about to say to her?”

“Uh, I didn’t really plan to say anything—my mind went blank,” Song Yufeng admitted honestly. “Brand management fee is just PR money. Zhen’ai.com’s hard-and-soft tactic—I wonder how much they’re offering.”

“Uh, I didn’t mean to say anything—my mind felt blank,” Song Yufeng admitted honestly. “Brand management fees are just PR fees. Zhen Ai Network plays hard and soft—no one knows how much they’ll pay for PR.”

He turned to Lu Haiying, his second-in-command, and instructed: “Don’t engage. Don’t follow their rhythm. Maintain our stance. If we soften our tone even slightly, they’ll accuse us of extortion—and dare to ask for brand management fees?”

He looked at the second-in-command, Lu Haiying, and instructed: “Don’t respond to such talk, don’t follow the other side’s rhythm in negotiations—always hold our position. If our tone softens even a little, they might turn it into extortion and dare demand brand management fees?”

Lu Haiying nodded solemnly.

Song Yufeng only realized later, drenched in cold sweat.

“You used to be a journalist yourself—how could you have zero vigilance?” Yu Xing glared at Song Yufeng and warned, “Standing firm isn’t just about protecting the company—it’s about protecting yourself.”

Song Yufeng’s mouth was dry; he nodded vigorously. At this point, he had to stand firm—even if he didn’t want to.

He spoke with a hoarse voice: “Could there already be someone waiting downstairs right now?”

Yu Xing paused, thinking: “Probably not—but I’m sure they’ve recorded the conversation, and they even picked a girl with a pleasant voice. For now, we’re safe; they’re not Tencent.”

Zhen Ai Network was a big company compared to Baixiaosheng, but its influence paled next to true industry giants.

Still, you never know if they have local connections—better to be cautious.

“You can leave,” Yu Xing said with a serious expression. “I need to speak with Xiao Ying. Remember—the world is treacherous.”

Song Yufeng silently stepped out.

He still felt uneasy, walking specifically to the window to look down.

Song Yufeng licked his lips, feeling uncertain inside.

He sat at his desk, glancing between his phone and the website.

Clearly, the backlash was still spreading—evident from the rising comment count—and the key point was the concrete TXT document, which gave the public a fresh, shocking sensation.

Just as Song Yufeng was zoning out, he suddenly heard his girlfriend Kong Huilin’s voice.

“NetEase has reposted and reported it!” Kong Huilin came over, delighted. “NetEase reported it! Feng Ge, did you contact them?”

Baixiaosheng wanted to amplify this move through media.

As a former employee, Kong Huilin reached out to her old employer, Tencent, but got no response.

NetEase was also her boyfriend’s former employer. Though there had been some past friction, its rapid reporting this time was highly unusual.

Upon hearing this, Song Yufeng clicked into NetEase and saw the report right at the most prominent position.

He was stunned and delighted: “I didn’t contact them—why did NetEase report it?”

Song Yufeng immediately returned to the conference room to report the good news to his boss.

Yu Xing acknowledged the media’s response: “NetEase’s report is good—it expands our reach and provides a layer of public opinion protection.”

He pondered a moment longer, then slowly speculated: “Do you believe in morally driven reporting? If there’s no profit motive, NetEase probably wants to play the role of the heron waiting behind the crane.”

Lu Haiying immediately understood his meaning.

Song Yufeng grasped it a moment later.

NetEase had an online dating business, but its market share was negligible and couldn’t shake the industry’s status quo. Previously, it tried to find a new entry point with romantic contracts, even integrating its internal services for that purpose.

But that operation was sabotaged by Song Yufeng and Yu Xing together.

If the industry were to shift now, could NetEase seize the opportunity?

Lu Haiying looked at her senior: “Senior, do you think NetEase still has ambitions in dating? How might they act?”

Yu Xing reviewed the NetEase business he’d previously studied, then considered how their own backlash intersected with the online dating industry, and finally said slowly: “If I were the head of NetEase’s relevant business, I’d focus on real-name authentication this time.”

It was his guess—unknown whether it would be proven.

But regardless, NetEase’s prominent coverage was indeed fueling the fire, further expanding the impact of Baixiaosheng’s backlash.

(End of Chapter)