Chapter 60: A Battle Without Gunpowder
Dai Wei detailed their financial plans: they intended to invest 1 million yuan in building a factory.
With that, they could reduce the production cost of each bike to below 300 yuan. Their goal was to expand beyond campus within a month and reach a market size of 10,000 bikes within two months.
To et the demand of 80,000 daily rides, they needed a minimum inventory of 10,000 bikes, ideally 15,000, to ensure reliability.
By building a factory, they could stretch their 2 million yuan in funds to act like 6 million or more. Paynts to suppliers could be deferred, and deposits could be temporarily utilized. The overarching strategy was clear: expand aggressively.
“I look forward to your performance,” Lu Liang said with a smile, feeling as if the sound of a battle horn echoed in his ears.
Yet whether these yellow bikes could beco the main characters of this war remained uncertain.
By noon, the contract was signed.
At the elevator, Lu Liang saw Dai Wei and his group off, just as ng Changkun happened to be coming downstairs.
“Brother Kun, when did you get back?” Lu Liang greeted him warmly.
“This morning,” ng replied, glancing curiously at Dai Wei.
“Mr. ng, hello,” Dai Wei said, surprised but not lingering, before leading his team away.
Watching them leave, Lu Liang turned to ng, asking, “You know Dai Wei?”
“We t briefly in Beijing.” ng nodded, his gaze growing peculiar. “Don’t tell you invested in OFO?”
“You’ve heard of them?” Lu Liang admitted readily.
ng nodded, his expression a mix of confirmation and complexity. “Let’s head upstairs for so tea and a chat.”
Lu Liang agreed with a smile.
ng’s spacious office on the upper floor boasted nearly 100 square ters, brightened by large floor-to-ceiling windows with a panoramic view of the city. Two lush money trees in the corners added vitality to the space.
Unlike Zhejiang bosses with their preference for leather sofas, ng’s solid wood furniture was distinctly Chaozhou in style.
As he brewed traditional Gongfu tea, ng recounted a personal story from several years ago:
“Groupon, also known as the group-buying site, was founded in 2009 with a re $500,000 in capital. Within seven months, it beca profitable, with an A-round valuation of $1.4 billion.”
“When news spread to China, investors went crazy. A 280-fold increase in seven months? It was like printing money.”
“Investors pounced like sharks slling blood. At the ti, any group-buying site, even without a solid plan, could secure funding just by presenting an idea.”
“The entire industry anticipated the replication of Groupon’s high-profit miracle dostically. By April of the following year, China’s first group-buying site erged. Within ten months, 5,000 more had sprung up.”
“Big players like Tencent, Alibaba, and others also entered the fray, making group-buying a standard feature of internet platforms. Fierce competition led to endless rounds of funding battles, advertising wars, and territorial disputes. The airwaves and streets were saturated with promotional campaigns.”
“It was a war without gunpowder. By the end, everyone was battered and bruised—no one escaped unscathed.”
“Retreat wasn’t an option. No one wanted to see their investnts go down the drain, so they had no choice but to endure. Until they couldn’t anymore…” ᚱ𝓪ΝǑβÈŝ
ng’s hand trembled slightly as he puffed his cigar, evidently still haunted by the mory.
That year, he had invested in several group-buying sites, enduring 15 months of losses totaling 230 million yuan before reluctantly cutting his losses.
In just three years, the industry burned through billions, and to this day, no clear winner had erged.
If there were winners, it was likely the consurs who reaped the benefits, along with the GDP boost the industry brought.
ng admitted he had glanced at OFO’s business plan but dismissed it imdiately. The similarity between shared bikes and group-buying sites was chilling.
Many who survived the group-buying wars had yet to recover and lacked the courage to venture into sothing so similar.
This, ng explained, was why OFO had to co to Magic City to seek investors—Beijing’s VC firms wouldn’t touch it.
ng didn’t want Lu Liang to think he had struck gold, only to discover he had fallen into a pit. If the industry failed to take off, the losses would be limited to the initial investnt. The real danger lay in false hope—when you see a glimr of success, no amount of money seems enough.
It was just like the group-buying wars years ago.
“What if they make it to the end?” Lu Liang asked, lighting a cigarette to steady his nerves. The mories of that golden age stirred a yearning in him—he had lacked the qualifications to participate back then.
ng smiled wryly, knowing further persuasion was futile. Investors were stubborn, unwilling to turn back until they hit a wall. Even then, they would attempt to break through until bloodied and defeated.
“It’s getting late. Let’s grab lunch,” ng suggested.
“Sure.”
Over lunch, Lu Liang ntioned his interest in visiting the MCN (Multi-Channel Network) agency ng had invested in.
ng generously agreed and personally took Lu Liang to the 15th-floor office afterward.
The agency operated more like a guild, divided into three main categories: gaming, beauty, and shock content.
The shock content creators left Lu Liang stunned. For tips, they would slap themselves, pour hot wax on their arms, or even bite live chickens. There seed no limit to their antics, earning the label “extre entertainnt.”
“Besides audience tips and platform contracts, there aren’t many monetization options yet,” ng remarked. “The investnt isn’t huge, so I’m letting them develop freely. Who knows? They might explode soday.”
Lu Liang nodded thoughtfully. Returning to his office, he instructed Tang Caidie to establish a new dia subsidiary, with a studio under it exclusively for Li Manli. He allocated 300,000 yuan to help her improve content quality and manage accounts across multiple platforms.
ng’s investnt strategy resonated with Lu Liang. With sufficient capital, the cost of trial and error was manageable. If even one out of ten investnts succeeded, it would be worthwhile.
This reinforced the principle: wealth begets wealth. For ordinary people, a single failed venture could be a lifelong burden, an unbearable weight.
At 1 p.m., the stock market reopened.
The turnover and trading volu of TeLi A increased sharply, suggesting an imminent breakout. Lu Liang remained on the sidelines, wary of the unknown scale and intentions of Zhongxin Fuying and another institution.
He preferred letting others take the lead. At least until the state policy was formally announced, he planned no new moves.
At 3:30 p.m., Su Wanyu arrived half an hour early, as was her habit.
Since Lu Liang hadn’t traded during the afternoon session, there was no need for analysis. Instead, he called her into his office for their English lesson.
Yet Su seed distracted, her brows furrowed with worry. Her lancholy gaze hinted at unresolved troubles, and she made several mistakes during the lesson, which Lu Liang had to correct.
“Miss Su, are you alright? You seem out of it today. Is sothing bothering you?” he asked.
“Sorry, Mr. Lu. It’s a personal matter. I’ll adjust quickly,” she replied, apologetic as she refocused on teaching.
Seeing her reluctance to share, Lu Liang refrained from prying. They resud practicing listening, speaking, reading, and writing for two more sessions, totaling 120 minutes.
Two days passed in the blink of an eye.
On Wednesday, June 10, at 10 a.m., a press conference was held to announce the “Guiding Opinions on Deepening State-Owned Enterprise Reform,” also known as the New Five Provisions.
The key point was redefining the boundaries between state capital ownership and enterprise managent, granting managent greater autonomy and easing restrictions on state-owned enterprises (SOEs).
In layman’s terms, the governnt was relinquishing so control, giving SOE managent more authority and flexibility.
The stagnant A-shares market rallied again. A wave of SOE stocks hit their daily upper limits, driving the broader market upward.
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