After Divorce, I Can Hear the Future

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 meet 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. Payments 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 become 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 Meng Changkun happened to be coming downstairs.  

“This morning,” Meng replied, glancing curiously at Dai Wei.  

“Mr. Meng, hello,” Dai Wei said, surprised but not lingering, before leading his team away.  

Watching them leave, Lu Liang turned to Meng, asking, “You know Dai Wei?”  

“We met briefly in Beijing.” Meng nodded, his gaze growing peculiar. “Don’t tell me you invested in OFO?”  

“You’ve heard of them?” Lu Liang admitted readily.  

Meng nodded, his expression a mix of confirmation and complexity. “Let’s head upstairs for some tea and a chat.”  

Lu Liang agreed with a smile.  

Meng’s spacious office on the upper floor boasted nearly 100 square meters, 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, Meng’s solid wood furniture was distinctly Chaozhou in style.  

As he brewed traditional Gongfu tea, Meng recounted a personal story from several years ago:  

“Groupon, also known as the group-buying site, was founded in 2009 with a mere $500,000 in capital. Within seven months, it became 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 smelling blood. At the time, 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 domestically. By April of the following year, China’s first group-buying site emerged. 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 investments go down the drain, so they had no choice but to endure. Until they couldn’t anymore…”  

Meng’s hand trembled slightly as he puffed his cigar, evidently still haunted by the memory.  

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 emerged.  

If there were winners, it was likely the consumers who reaped the benefits, along with the GDP boost the industry brought.  

Meng admitted he had glanced at OFO’s business plan but dismissed it immediately. 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 something so similar.  

This, Meng explained, was why OFO had to come to Magic City to seek investors—Beijing’s VC firms wouldn’t touch it.  

Meng 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 investment. The real danger lay in false hope—when you see a glimmer 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 memories of that golden age stirred a yearning in him—he had lacked the qualifications to participate back then.  

Meng 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,” Meng suggested.  

“Sure.”  

Over lunch, Lu Liang mentioned his interest in visiting the MCN (Multi-Channel Network) agency Meng had invested in.  

Meng 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 seemed no limit to their antics, earning the label “extreme entertainment.”  

“Besides audience tips and platform contracts, there aren’t many monetization options yet,” Meng remarked. “The investment isn’t huge, so I’m letting them develop freely. Who knows? They might explode someday.”  

Lu Liang nodded thoughtfully. Returning to his office, he instructed Tang Caidie to establish a new media 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.  

Meng’s investment strategy resonated with Lu Liang. With sufficient capital, the cost of trial and error was manageable. If even one out of ten investments 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 volume 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 seemed distracted, her brows furrowed with worry. Her melancholy 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 something 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 resumed 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 management, granting management greater autonomy and easing restrictions on state-owned enterprises (SOEs).  

In layman’s terms, the government was relinquishing some control, giving SOE management 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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