Stronger by Paying Salaries and I Have 1 Billion Employees

"The main reason is that Pony wasn’t impressed with his startup project," Liu Zhiping explained with a smile.

Penguin had organized the summer startup camp to find exceptional talent and invest in commercially viable projects.

The guy didn’t want to join Penguin, and Ma Wenteng wasn’t willing to invest, so Liu Zhiping remembered Chen Yansen’s request and decided to recommend him to Senlian Capital.

"I trust your judgment, President Liu. Have him come to Xucheng," Chen Yansen agreed readily.

The implication was clear: he planned to interview the candidate himself.

"Alright, I’ll have Zhang Xiaolong inform him," Liu Zhiping replied.

"Thanks, Martin," Chen Yansen added.

"That’s all for now. Come over for tea when you have time." With that, Liu Zhiping hung up.

Throughout the entire conversation, neither man mentioned the candidate’s name or background.

Liu Zhiping didn’t offer, and Chen Yansen didn’t ask.

Since the recommendation came from him, Chen Yansen would at least grant an interview, no matter the candidate’s capabilities.

「Meanwhile.」

「In a café in Hu City’s Pudong New District.」

Mao Chaorong put down his phone, his face lighting up with excitement. He turned to Qu Fang, who was sitting across from him. "That was Zhang Xiaolong. President Chen from Senlian Capital wants to see me."

"Congratulations!" Qu Fang replied lightly, a faint smile on her face.

They were both from Jiang City and had met by a chance encounter on a street in the Lighthouse Country.

At the time, she was the head of the planning department at Bertelsmann, and he was an MBA student at Stanford University.

When Mao Chaorong graduated, Qu Fang quit her high-paying job at Bertelsmann and returned to China with him.

The young man before her, twenty-six or twenty-seven years old, was always dressed in a sharp suit. With his handsome features and the constant smile that played on his lips when he spoke, he had made her heart flutter.

Their relationship was somewhere beyond friendship, but not quite romance.

But they were both intelligent people. Qu Fang quitting her job to accompany him back to China and help him start a business spoke volumes.

What troubled Qu Fang, however, was that Mao Chaorong seemed to have no intention of taking their relationship to the next level.

’So, was I just getting ahead of myself?’

Qu Fang gave a bitter smile. She was happy that Mao Chaorong’s career was advancing, but at the same time, she regretted her own reckless decision.

"I’m booking a ticket right now. I’ll head to Xucheng today." Mao Chaorong picked up his phone and began tapping away frantically.

"You go ahead," Qu Fang said, her tone placid. "I’m not going."

Hearing this, Mao Chaorong froze on the spot, his fingers halting over his phone. He looked at her, confused. "But you contributed to the product plan for Red Skirt. How can I go without you?"

"I’m not that interested in starting a business. I’m sure you know perfectly well why I came back to China."

Qu Fang took a deep breath. She didn’t want to beat around the bush any longer; it was time to be direct.

Mao Chaorong’s expression faltered. After a silence that stretched for over ten seconds, he said with a troubled look, "I thought you came back to start a business and make money with me."

Qu Fang let out a choked laugh. Now she understood. You can’t wake a person who’s only pretending to be asleep.

"Is it because you think I’m not pretty?" Qu Fang demanded, unable to let it go.

"No," Mao Chaorong said, shaking his head.

"Goddamn it! You really are a fucking bastard." After spitting out the curse, Qu Fang snatched her handbag and stormed off without a backward glance.

Mao Chaorong was taken aback. He never would have imagined that Qu Fang—a graduate of Beijing Foreign Studies University who’d spent six years abroad—would ever curse so viciously. It was the first time he’d heard anything like it from her.

But the truth was, he just wasn’t interested in her.

In his heart, the only things he yearned for were his career and financial freedom.

And so, in less than a minute, he had composed himself and was methodically booking his ticket.

Two hours later, he was at Hongqiao Railway Station, boarding a train for Xucheng East Station.

Liu Zhiping had made it very clear: Chen Yansen needed a project lead in the Lighthouse Country.

As for the business plan for Red Skirt, Chen Yansen would naturally look at it, but whether Mao Chaorong could convince him to invest would depend entirely on his own abilities.

Of course, it was also possible that Chen Yansen, like Ma Wenteng, would dismiss his project.

The opportunity was right in front of him. Even if the chances were slim, Mao Chaorong decided he had to take it.

For him, just getting to meet and speak with Chen Yansen would make the trip worthwhile.

After all, Chen Yansen’s business acumen was undeniable. He had entered the industry only two years ago and had already amassed a net worth of over 50 billion US Dollars.

If a man like that offered him even a few words of advice, he was sure to benefit immensely.

「Meanwhile.」

Huang Zheng was giving Li Guoqing a tour, leading him through the various office areas of the Pinbei headquarters.

As noon approached, Huang Zheng invited Li Guoqing to a hotel downtown for lunch, but Li Guoqing insisted on eating in the employee cafeteria. Huang Zheng couldn’t change his mind, so he had no choice but to agree.

After lunch, Huang Zheng gave Li Guoqing a tour of the Orange Technology headquarters building before they finally settled in Chen Yansen’s office for tea.

While they talked, whenever the e-commerce industry came up, Li Guoqing’s references to Liu Qiangdong were consistently unflattering, calling him things like "that big oaf" and "Da Qiangzi."

It was clear just how deep Qingzi’s grudge against Handsome Dong ran.

The three of them didn’t leave the office until dusk, after the sun had set and the clouds had scattered, casting the sky in twilight. They were preparing to head to the Sky Garden for drinks.

Just as Chen Yansen reached the ground floor, the receptionist quietly informed him, "Boss Chen, a Mr. Mao just arrived. He’s in the waiting area for you."

’Mr. Mao?’

Chen Yansen turned to look. A young man, about twenty-six or twenty-seven and dressed in a dark blue suit, was sitting in the waiting area, looking around with curiosity.

Chen Yansen mused, ’This guy is certainly eager.’

"President Chen, please, you take care of your business. We’re in no rush," Li Guoqing said graciously, showing his tact.

"Mr. Huang, why don’t you take President Li to the restaurant first," Chen Yansen said to Huang Zheng.

"Yes, Boss," Huang Zheng nodded.

After excusing himself, Chen Yansen walked toward the waiting area.

Mao Chaorong heard footsteps and quickly turned, just in time to see Chen Yansen approaching.

He had seen photos of Chen Yansen and recognized him instantly. Not daring to hesitate, he shot to his feet and proactively approached him. "President Chen, hello! I’m Mao Chaorong. Here is my personal résumé and the business plan for Red Skirt."

"Mr. Mao, please have a seat," Chen Yansen said, gesturing to a chair.

"Thank you, President Chen." Mao Chaorong was a bit stiff, his breathing growing heavy.

Mao Chaorong was from Jiang City and a graduate of Jiaoda, which made him an alumnus of Zhang Xuhao’s. He had worked at two private equity firms for a total of four years before going to the Lighthouse Country for his MBA.

Judging by his résumé, he had no experience in the short-video or social media sectors.

But Chen Yansen didn’t place much importance on that. He was more interested in a person’s methodology and problem-solving skills.

As for the business plan for Red Skirt, he gave it a single glance before pushing it aside.

’This thing is just a localized version of Instagram, banking on information asymmetry.’

’No wonder Ma Wenteng wasn’t impressed!’

After WeChat launched its "Moments" feature, it had effectively integrated Instagram’s photo-sharing function, so it was perfectly normal for him to look down on a pure-play copy.

He shared Little Ma’s opinion: this kind of content-sharing social media app had some commercial value, but not a lot.

Ma Wenteng believed Red Skirt’s business model conflicted with WeChat’s. There was no reason to prop up an adopted son only to have him compete with your biological one.

Chen Yansen, however, felt the short-video business model had far more potential. If he couldn’t convince Mao Chaorong to pivot, he might as well just fund an angel round for his current project.

But he wasn’t about to show his hand.

Finding a reliable person to lead his short-video venture was more important than this potential investment.

When Mao Chaorong caught sight of Chen Yansen’s dismissive gesture, his heart sank, and all the confidence drained out of him.

Being shot down by two industry titans—Ma Wenteng and now Chen Yansen—made him start to wonder. Was it Red Skirt’s business model that was flawed, or was he the one who was lacking?

’Red Skirt’s prototype, Instagram, is a massive hit overseas,’ he thought. ’So why does it keep getting the cold shoulder back home?’

In his view, there was nothing wrong with bringing a successful foreign software model to the domestic market.

Ma Wenteng had done it. Ma Liyun had done it. Li Yanhong had done it.

And every single one of them had succeeded, now with fortunes in the tens of billions.

"Martin told you, didn’t he? Today Technology wants to get into the short-video space," Chen Yansen asked quietly.

"I’m aware. A product called Vine launched in the Lighthouse Country at the beginning of the year. It allows for six-second short videos and has gained some traction in North America, but frankly, its user base is small—nowhere near Instagram, Twitter, or Facebook," Mao Chaorong replied, choosing his words with care.

The subtext was clear: ’Vine’s business model is a dead end, Boss Chen. You’d be better off investing in my Red Skirt project.’

"My product is called Mimo, as in ’Moment in, moment out.’ The initial marketing budget will be no less than 20 million US Dollars a month," Chen Yansen said, holding up his fingers to emphasize the point.

’Twenty million US Dollars?’

’If only he’d give that money to me...’

Mao Chaorong swallowed hard, sighing to himself, ’He’s so damn rich.’