Late at night in Hangzhou, Alibaba headquarters still blazed with light.
After delivering his report, Zhang Yong shifted the topic. "There's growing discontent below. Even Hu Zhilong is looking for excuses to block FoxTao's CPS interface and accounts."
He shook his head, clearly opposed.
"What does 'East Evil' from YiTao think?" Ma Yun turned, referencing the nickname of Wu Ming, head of the rival shopping guide platform YiTao.
YiTao and FoxTao shared the same model—shopping guide e-commerce. One was Alibaba's favored son, the other its ambitious foster child.
Juhuasuan and YiTao had been copying FoxTao's profit models and marketing strategies while simultaneously badmouthing it. The hypocrisy was galling.
"Their stance aligns with Hu Zhilong's." Zhang Yong chuckled dryly. His subordinates weren't stupid—just self-serving. They wanted to stifle FoxTao through alliance policy.
"How much GMV did FoxTao drive to Taobao last year?" Ma Yun asked thoughtfully.
"620 million. But they just secured 560 million in funding from Tencent, IDG, and ThinkTao Capital. Given Chen Yansen's aggressive style, he could double their daily active users in six months. I predict their 2011 sales will exceed 6 billion."
Zhang Yong closed his eyes, recalling the data.
"That's 0.15% in 2010, and by your estimate, 1% in 2011. Not huge alone, but as more players enter the shopping guide space, their collective share will grow." Ma Yun's words revealed his stance.
"The Alibaba Alliance drove 17% of group sales last year. We shouldn't suppress shopping guides—we should support them strongly." Zhang Yong smiled.
He knew that if Alibaba abused its power as referee to restrict shopping guides, capital would push them toward their own platforms. Even a giant understands the principle of "many ants killing an elephant." The choice between allies and enemies was obvious.
For Ma Yun and Alibaba, having allies like FoxTao meant better stories for Wall Street and higher valuations for their eventual IPO.
Wu Ming and Hu Zhilong objected because FoxTao was eating their lunch. These employees cared only for their own KPIs.
"Tell Hu Zhilong to fully cooperate with FoxTao's channel operations from now on," Ma Yun decided. In 2011, he wanted to back shopping guides and push the group's annual GMV past one trillion within two years.
"Understood." Zhang Yong nodded. On this, they were aligned.
The next morning, Chen Yansen drove Chen Guobin to Beishan Cemetery, the trunk loaded with joss paper and firecrackers.
Kneeling before his mother's tombstone, Chen Yansen muttered, "If you have time, haunt Dad's dreams. Tell him to find a stepmother while he's still young, or I'm not taking care of him when he's old."
"Now that I'm making money, I'll pick an auspicious day after New Year's and buy you a bigger plot—river in front, mountain behind, pines and cypresses on both sides..."
Chen Guobin listened to his son's rambling eulogy, his eye twitching.
"We've never met, so I don't know what kind of daughter-in-law you'd like. Don't worry—I'll date one of every type. Just appear in my dream and point to the one you prefer."
"Get out! Stop bothering your mother!" Chen Guobin finally snapped, kicking his son in the rear to shoo him away. He was genuinely worried his wife might climb out of the grave.
Chen Yansen patted his backside, tossed down a stack of joss paper, and called to Old Chen, "Burn plenty for Mom."
Chen Guobin shot him a glare, then began burning the offerings bundle by bundle, murmuring, "Huizhen, don't listen to this brat. In this life, I'll only love you."
Chen Yansen cringed at the sappy words and took several steps back.
He knew the routine. In ten minutes, Old Chen would start sniffling. In thirty, he'd be weeping. In an hour, he'd wipe his tears and urge them to leave. Over a decade of this. He was tired of it.
Seeing Old Chen was in his zone, Chen Yansen returned to the car, turned on the heater, and pulled out his phone to text his girls.
Brother Yansen, when are you coming over for dinner?
In a few days, he replied casually, then switched to WeChat.
He'd dragged both Meng Jie and Song Yuncheng onto WeChat. He couldn't help it—Lei Jun had poured all his money into Xiaomi's R&D, and MiTalk's constant network issues were ruining his flirting experience.
An hour later, Chen Guobin, emotionally spent, silently got into the passenger seat.
Chen Yansen dropped him at the bookstore, then drove to Dongjindu Bridge.
In the distance, he saw Wang Zihao and his father, Wang Zhanjun, bundled in thick jackets, sitting on small stools by the bank, fishing rods in hand, eyes glued to their floats.
"Uncle Wang! Long time no see—you've gotten rounder!" Chen Yansen called out as he approached.
"Wow, you've shot up again! Half a head taller than Zihao now. Not bad!" Wang Zhanjun turned and grinned.
Chen Yansen and Wang Zihao were childhood friends. He'd eaten at their house countless times. That kind of history either makes you brothers or rivals. Chen Yansen was clearly the former.
In his past life, he'd almost succeeded in stealing Old Wang's precious daughter away.
Wang Zhanjun was an army veteran who'd seen combat. He didn't care about a few meals and even gave Chen Yansen red envelopes during holidays.
"Zihao says you've made a fortune together. I don't understand business, so I can't advise much. Just be cautious in everything, but bold when opportunity strikes." Wang Zhanjun patted Chen Yansen's shoulder.
"Got it. Don't worry." Chen Yansen smiled, took a fishing rod from the gear box, and joined them.
The three sat on the bank, chatting in the cold breeze. Chen Yansen realized his 2.63-meter physique was remarkable—he barely felt the biting wind.
"I'm going winter swimming with some old buddies tomorrow morning. Want to come?" Wang Zhanjun asked abruptly.
"Dad, I'll join for the second round," Wang Zihao chuckled. He couldn't handle winter swimming. Only veterans like his dad enjoyed such brutal tests of endurance.
The "second round" meant going to Qipan Street for beef soup, snacks, and a little morning wine to warm up.
Seeing his son's lack of enthusiasm, Wang Zhanjun turned to his honorary godson. "How about you, kid?"
"Uncle Wang, you know I only doggy-paddle. Plus, I'm visiting a classmate tomorrow," Chen Yansen quickly excused himself.
"What a coincidence." Wang Zhanjun was skeptical.
"Planned it yesterday."
"Brother Sen, you're going to Meng Jie's, aren't you?" Wang Zihao's eyes lit up with gossip.
"Oh, a girlfriend?" Wang Zhanjun understood. "Bring her to see me next time."
"Dad, you've met her. That tomboy from our class." Wang Zihao grinned.
"Huh?!" Wang Zhanjun was stunned. He didn't remember most of their classmates, but he remembered that girl from one meeting years ago. She was… memorable.
Back then, Meng Jie had been chasing a boy while wielding a table leg.
"Xiao Sen, I told you to be more manly, but I didn't mean find someone so manly." Wang Zhanjun frowned, choosing his words carefully.
"Uncle Wang, that was then. Look at her now." Chen Yansen pulled up a photo of Meng Jie.
"Huh! This is that tomboy? Wow, she really blossomed. Girls change so much." Wang Zhanjun laughed heartily. "You should learn, kid. At your age, I'd already taken down several Annamese soldiers. And you—no girlfriend."
He then glared at Wang Zihao with disdain.
"Uncle Wang, you don't know—Zihao, he—" Chen Yansen began, ready to spill about Teacher Liu.
Wang Zihao moved with shocking speed, dropping his fishing rod to clamp a hand over Chen Yansen's mouth. His eyes screamed I'll call you Dad, just don't!
"What's wrong with Zihao?" Wang Zhanjun asked, amused.
"Nothing. He just likes someone a bit older." Chen Yansen gave a half-smile, being deliberately vague.
"Older? 'A woman three years older is a treasure.' Your aunt is two years older than me. It's fine—" Wang Zhanjun began.
Whoosh!
"Got one!" Wang Zhanjun felt a tug and happily reeled in a fish.
The afternoon passed. The sky turned cold and overcast. The three headed back with several palm-sized crucian carp.
"Want to drink at my place tonight?" Wang Zhanjun asked.
"Let's eat out. Have the restaurant cook the fish." Chen Yansen quickly suggested. He wasn't stepping into that house again.
"Fine." Wang Zhanjun stuffed his gear into his electric scooter, letting Wang Zihao ride pillion while he got into Chen Yansen's BMW.
They found a familiar restaurant in the old town, ordered hot dishes and dumplings, and ate heartily.
Chen Yansen glanced at Wang Zihao, a flicker of envy in his eyes.
His dad is different. Chen Yansen hadn't felt much fatherly love—just memories of being kicked as a kid. Wang Zihao might be a bit slow, but both his parents were alive, tolerant, and their home was warm.
Unlike Chen Guobin, whose life revolved around three things: running the bookstore, beating his son, and missing his wife.
The following days, Chen Yansen truly relaxed. He even went to Meng Jie's for a meal and joined Wang Zhanjun and his buddies for a few winter swims in the Dongfei River.
He was fine, but the old-timers were shivering. Not wanting to lose face, they muttered, "This winter's colder than last year," and "Back in my army days, when I was young..."
Chen Yansen just smiled.
Lunar New Year's Eve fell on February 1st. FoxTao's February salaries landed on time. Nearly a hundred notification messages flooded Chen Yansen's phone, blocking his screen.
In minutes, his Humanity's Flame points surged by 148—from salaries, commissions, insurance, housing funds, and allowances. This was the real reason he was so keen on employee benefits.
Spirit or Constitution?
He hesitated for a second, then dumped every point into Constitution. Max out the kidneys first.
The sensation was even more intense this time. His muscles and skin seemed to contract and expand like breathing. An illusion, perhaps.
When the reaction subsided, everything felt different. He could read price tags across the street clearly. He could hear subtle ambient sounds with pinpoint clarity.
A talent section on the panel means just adding points isn't enough. I need to make more money. Build a bigger empire.
The Constitution stat changed from 2.63 to 4.11.
Over the next few days, he tested himself.
Speed: 100 meters in 7.6 seconds. Leaving world records in the dust. Approaching the fastest land animals.
Vision: Could read couplets on the West Lake Gate 800 meters away. Could track the wingbeats of a hummingbird.
Stamina: Ten hours of high-intensity exercise used only half his energy.
Strength: Deadlift over 700 kg. Could drag a parked Chevrolet Spark with one hand effortlessly.
"4.11 is already this terrifying. What about 100? 1,000? 10,000? 100,000? A million?"
He recorded the data in a notebook, stared at it, then crossed it all out.
The human limit was just a starting point. He was already beyond it. The question was—how far could he go?