Chen Yansen dismissed the ridiculous idea of asking the candidate if they could sing, dance, or rap. This wasn't an idol audition.
Xu Kun, however, was impressive. His delivery was smooth, his logic razor-sharp. A graduate with an e-commerce degree? Chen Yansen didn't hesitate.
"Start tomorrow. Welcome to FoxTao." A firm handshake, a genuine smile, and he saw the first recruit out.
The next candidate walked in, and Chen Yansen almost laughed. It was Zhang Yifeng, the guy from last night's basketball court, now scratching his head with an overly earnest look.
"Cut the act," Chen Yansen said, waving him to a chair. "The guy who trash-talked on the court yesterday is gone. FoxTao needs sharp minds, not just 'honest' faces."
Zhang Yifeng dropped the pretense instantly, sitting straighter. "Right. Zhang Yifeng, E-commerce '07. Did a two-month stint at Zunbao E-commerce, handling standardized products. I know Taobao's backend. I'm here for the product selection specialist role…"
His confidence was back, his introduction crisp.
"With Zunbao on your resume, you could land a job at a brand or even a mid-tier platform," Chen Yansen pressed, leaning forward. "Why us? Why FoxTao?"
Zhang Yifeng met his gaze. "I want to make real money. At a big corporation, I'd be stuck in junior roles for years. FoxTao is taking off. Here, my growth can match the company's speed." A frank, hungry smile.
Money. A motive Chen Yansen understood perfectly. People who chased money had clear goals and the drive to reach them. "Welcome aboard."
Zhang Yifeng left, practically buzzing.
The morning blazed by. By the end, Chen Yansen had snapped up several more final-year e-commerce students. He mock-complained to Xu Xingxing, "They're using us as a warm-up for the fall recruitment season!"
The next 48 hours were a whirlwind of interviews. He hired an HR major to lead that department, officially promoted Xu Xingxing to Office Admin Lead, and brought on a commercial law professor for legal. Teams filled out.
Forty-two people. The FoxTao crew now sprawled across nearly half of the startup park's second floor.
Then, on November 5th, the fuel hit the tank: Tencent's 10 million RMB investment landed.
With capital, ambition grew. Chen Yansen tapped Zhao Maolin's channels for another batch of iPhone 4s. The "0-Yuan Flash Deal" page exploded with new options—refrigerators, TVs, ovens, bikes, e-scooters.
User registrations from the daily check-in link skyrocketed, peaking at nearly 200,000 in one day.
Wang Zihao's ad team was firing on all cylinders, burning through their 100,000 RMB daily budget.
Afternoon, Startup Park Room 206.
"Zihao, coordinate with Zhao Maolin. We're using the telecom SMS channel. Before 11.11, every FoxTao user gets a link to the 'Super Red Packet,'" Chen Yansen ordered, perched on the edge of a desk.
"On it, Brother Sen. Zhao's rate is 0.08 RMB per SMS. We can launch as soon as Hu Yun exports the user data," Wang Zihao confirmed.
Chen Yansen's gaze shifted, his tone turning serious. "Zhuang Rui. Double, no, triple-check the activation thresholds for the Super Red Packet. If this fails, we're finished."
This was their big play. While Alibaba hadn't yet invented the "Super Red Packet" in 2010, their 11.11 promotion was live. Chen Yansen wouldn't let this cash-grab opportunity slip by.
He'd designed a brutal, simple incentive called the "Ten Billion Subsidy": tiered cash-back coupons on top of existing rebates. Spend over 10 RMB, get an extra 2 off. Over 100 RMB, an extra 8. It scaled up ruthlessly to purchases over 5000.
The mechanic was devastatingly simple for the era: buy an 11.9 RMB item through FoxTao, get the usual rebate, plus a 2 RMB cash kickback. A decade later, it was old hat. In 2010, it was a cannon aimed at the heart of hesitant shoppers.
"Brother Sen, we've got it locked down," Zhuang Rui affirmed, giving a thumbs-up. "Wenbo and I are launching a filter tomorrow. If a product's commission can't cover both the rebate and the subsidy red packet, it simply won't show to the user. No negative margins."
Chen Yansen gave a sharp nod, then turned his laser focus to the operations team—Chen Xu, Hu Li, Xu Kun, Zhang Yifeng.
They chorused their understanding before he could speak. "Gross margin requirements are law. No loss leaders, Brother Sen!"
Lastly, he placed a hand on Xiang Pengfei's shoulder. "Pengfei. You and Wenbo finalize the dev specs. That gross profit filter must be on every search result page. We can break even, but we do not bleed money. Clear?"
Xiang Pengfei's jaw was set. "It won't happen again, Brother Sen." Another failure, and he'd have to resign out of sheer shame.
Chen Yansen surveyed the room, the air crackling with tension. "Next week is FoxTao's first major campaign. We feast, or we famine. It's on all of you. Let's go make some noise!"
A unified, energetic shout answered him. Eyes shone with the fire of a big score.
Young teams are easier to motivate, Chen Yansen mused. No jaded cynics here. Of course, the Tencent funding had let him bump salaries across the board. Zhang Wenbo and the core tech team were now earning well above the provincial average. The promise of fat bonuses didn't hurt morale either.
Later, needing a break, Chen Yansen wandered down Xuehai Road. He'd considered checking on Song Yang's packing chaos but thought better of it.
His mind drifted. Shopping guide e-commerce wasn't the most glamorous tech play, but in 2010, the alternatives weren't ripe yet. News apps, short video? The infrastructure wasn't there. Group-buying was a bloodbath, food delivery a logistical nightmare. So, he'd circle back to the reliable cash cow: skimming traffic from the e-commerce giants. Build a war chest first.
Ma Wenteng's 10 million was a gift, compressing six months of grind into a signing bonus. Tencent's backing was a magnet for more VC and free publicity. The "18-year-old prodigy" narrative the media loved didn't hurt either.
In the niche cashback world, FoxTao was now the name to beat. Some sites were older, but in the race for users and daily activity, FoxTao left them in the dust.
In a niche, everyone only remembers number one.
Passing Dorm 8, he noticed a light on in room 8302 and headed up.
The door was unlocked. Inside, Tang Zhenzhe was glued to his computer, headphones on. On screen, a lecturer droned about macroeconomics.
Chen Yansen cleared his throat. "Since when did you become so studious, Zhe?"
Tang Zhenzhe jumped, yanking off his headphones. "Brother Sen! How'd you get in?"
"Flew in through the window," Chen Yansen deadpanned, grabbing a handful of sunflower seeds from the desk.
"I locked that door..." Tang Zhenzhe muttered, then flushed, realizing he'd forgotten. "Professor Guo dumped all the department's scut work on me. I'm drowning. Finally stole a moment to watch this lecture and…" he gestured vaguely.
"Song Yang's courier station is swamped. Not lending a hand?" Chen Yansen cracked a seed.
After a pathetic attempt at being a library regular, Wang Zhengqiang had given up the act. Books couldn't compete with the thrill of a startup. He and Song Yang had shared a look and dove into the parcel business together.
"Help? I wish!" Tang Zhenzhe groaned. "I'm the class monitor, vice-minister of the student union… it's all meetings and paperwork. Meanwhile, Meng Xibo is a team lead at your place, pulling in over two grand a month!" The envy was poorly concealed.
He'd tried, subtly and not-so-subtly, to get close to Su Meiling for a month. Her response was lukewarm at best. Rumor had it she only had eyes for the other freshman entrepreneur.
Compared to "Chen Yansen, CEO of Senhai Tech, Founder of FoxTao, Xucheng's Wunderkind," a class monitor title was pocket lint. He'd even heard the department was planning a "Model Student" award and a first-class scholarship for Chen Yansen. The guy who shows up to class three times a month! The injustice burned.
"Professor Guo must see great potential in you," Chen Yansen said, a teasing glint in his eye.
He knew Tang Zhenzhe's caliber. In another life, the man had been a Channel Director for a timber firm, conquering the Southeast Asian market from a base in Vietnam. He had a knack for deal-making.
But FoxTao didn't need a salesman right now. The recruitment pitch could wait.
"Hey, is Song Yang coming to the class barbecue at Delta Park tomorrow?" Tang Zhenzhe changed the subject. "I borrowed a DV camera and three digital cameras from the equipment room. Gonna get some great shots."
Chen Yansen winced internally. He'd promised a class movie trip to help Tang Zhenzhe's campaign, a promise now buried under a mountain of work.
"Can't make it. 11.11 prep. We're on overtime," he said, shaking his head.
"Oh… right." Tang Zhenzhe paused, then blurted out the question that clearly haunted him. "Brother Sen… why even come to university? To study, or to run a business?"
Chen Yansen countered, "What's the point of university for most people?"
"To get a good job. To make money," Tang Zhenzhe replied automatically.
"Then I just chose the shortcut. Cut out the two-year middleman," Chen Yansen said, his tone matter-of-fact.
"Then why enroll at all?" Tang Zhenzhe pressed, confused.
Chen Yansen stood up, brushing shell dust from his hands. A faint, unreadable smile touched his lips. "Because university life… has its charms."
With a casual wave, he left. His mindset was far from that of a typical teenager, but there were certain flavors of youth—fresh, vibrant, alive—that were best appreciated here.
Shanghai. A modest apartment.
A man with a slicked-back vintage hairstyle stared at his laptop, the blue light etching worry lines on his face. He looked at his partner across the small table.
"Brother Zhong, FoxTao's growth is insane. Our strategy of focusing on search and B2C… it might be a dead end."
Gu Yaozhong, a pioneer in China's cashback scene who had been mimicking Ebates for four long years without a whiff of venture capital, rubbed his tired eyes. "You want to pivot? Copy FoxTao's model? We don't have their war chest."
The injustice tasted bitter. Four years of grinding versus an 18-year-old who waltzes in and gets tens of millions from Tencent. How?
"My old classmate works at Thinking Capital. He's heard of our project," the slick-haired man said, a new desperation in his voice. "I have to try. One last pitch."
If the funding didn't come this time, the dream was over.
(End of Chapter)
Read Next: Chapter 64: The Shopping Storm – A Ten-Million-Day