Chapter 106: The Business Opportunity in a Madcap Adventure

No matter what kind of trick was hidden beneath, the sight of alcohol was enough to tempt Qi Huanchang’s appetite. However, it was clear that his tolerance for drink paled in comparison to Wang Xunfei’s; his speech had already started to slur, while Wang Xunfei remained jovial and composed throughout the evening.

As usual, Qi the Fatty succumbed to the wine as soon as it was offered.

“Xiwen, this guy has been like this since university—it’s what trained me to have strong arms,” Wang Xunfei chuckled. “Every time, I was the one carrying him back to the dorm.”

“Brother Xunfei, you haven’t carried him for a year now. Your shift’s been taken over by me,” Jiang Xiwen replied, lifting Qi Huanchang effortlessly onto his back without breaking a sweat. He then descended the seafood restaurant’s stairs, hailed two taxis, stuffed the fat man into the back seat, and climbed in himself.

Wang Xunfei followed and took the front seat. The more he observed Jiang Xiwen, the more mysterious the young man seemed. Beyond his programming skills, that kind of strength was not common for someone his age.

The more curious Wang Xunfei became, the more Jiang Xiwen succeeded in testing his patience. The car arrived at their rented office building beneath the secondary school.

This time, Wang Xunfei insisted on carrying Qi Huanchang himself. Jiang Xiwen didn’t refuse, having achieved his purpose. Inside the office, Jiang Xiwen returned to the computer while Qi Huanchang was tossed onto the bed by Wang Xunfei, fast asleep.

“Brother Xunfei, I still have some work to do. I have classes during the day tomorrow, so no time then. You can use Qi the Fatty’s computer—there’s a novel called ‘The Legend of the Mist’ on it. Feel free to read it to pass the time,” Jiang Xiwen said politely before settling in at the desk. He booted up a small program resembling an early version of QQ and fully opened the code, slowly reading it from the start.

Wang Xunfei had nothing pressing either. This trip was partly leisure, partly to recruit Qi Huanchang as a business partner. He knew Qi’s programming skills well—they were good friends. After quitting his job, Wang’s first thought for a partner was Qi Huanchang.

Jiang Xiwen was right beside him, having already made clear the software was confidential. Wang Xunfei resisted the urge to click on the panda icon on the screen and instead opened ‘The Legend of the Mist,’ though his eyes kept drifting toward Jiang Xiwen’s screen, curious about the programming language used.

But just as he glanced, Jiang Xiwen closed the code window and launched a game instead, turning to smile, “Brother Xunfei, I’m done for now. I’m just going to play some games…”

“Oh…” Wang Xunfei quickly masked his embarrassment at wanting to sneak a peek. Following Jiang Xiwen’s lead, he said, “By the way, I heard from Qi the Fatty that you’re planning to start a game company? There aren’t many game companies here in China; most games come from abroad. We don’t have many game developers, and the market is still immature. So, just my opinion, but starting a game company is pretty tough. Didn’t I mention I’m starting a company too? I have some projects on hand. How about you and Qi the Fatty join forces...”

Mid-sentence, Jiang Xiwen suddenly slapped his forehead and sighed, “Ah, I died again. Brother Xunfei, do you play Xuanyuan Sword? Those games are made by companies from Taiwan. They’re really interesting. Maybe we can hire some talent from there to join us.”

Jiang Xiwen’s words were clear: don’t bother trying to sway him—he was determined to start a game company.

Taiwan? Wang Xunfei shook his head with a smile. This kid had some programming skills but lacked awareness of the bigger picture. Let him be. Without funding or solid operations, even the best instant messaging software would struggle to gain market traction. He’d hit a wall eventually and realize the truth. Then it would be easy to invite him to join his company.

“I say, Brother Xunfei, you’re well-traveled and knowledgeable. Tell me, does this little software of mine have a future?” Jiang Xiwen suddenly shifted the topic just as Wang Xunfei was pondering the question, startling him. It was as if Jiang Xiwen could read his thoughts.

Good—Wang Xunfei wanted to know what technology the software used, and Jiang Xiwen had avoided the topic until now. He smiled and said, “Xiwen, stop calling me ‘Brother Xunfei.’ You call Qi Huanchang ‘Fatty,’ so just call me by my name. As for this software, I don’t fully understand its principles yet, so it’s hard to judge.”

“Xunfei…” Jiang Xiwen was no longer formal. This wasn’t like his earlier rudeness to Yang Wei; he wanted Wang Xunfei to gradually stop seeing him as a kid. The ambitious young man was full of drive. To make Wang Xunfei his assistant, he needed to assert leadership so that Wang would admire and willingly follow him.

“This was developed in C language, just a prototype. When Microsoft’s new Windows system launches, it’ll need improvements, mainly to adapt to future networks. I have a vision—networking will become widespread in a few years, and computers will get cheaper. Many people will be online at home. Using pagers or phones will be inconvenient, so communication—whether chatting or working—will need real-time messaging software. If it’s free to use, it will spread rapidly.”

“Free?” Wang Xunfei was drawn in by Jiang Xiwen’s idea and no longer hid his thoughts. “If it’s free, how do you make money? Every commercial software aims for profit. To maximize it, software must be convenient for users.”

“You’re right. That’s why it has to be free—to make all users dependent on it…” “Then charge fees later? Does that work?” Wang Xunfei’s face showed doubt. He asked deliberately because hearing ‘dependency’ reminded him of many possibilities. Qi Huanchang had said couples might meet through this software; they could send gifts to each other. He’d also heard of online shopping abroad. With this software’s popularity, it could become a channel for mail-order gifts.

This was the software’s peripheral revenue potential. Given the era’s limitations, Wang Xunfei hadn’t yet considered virtual clothing, avatars, or online gaming.

Now he was increasingly interested. Even if Jiang Xiwen didn’t join his company, Wang wanted to cooperate—perhaps as an agent for the software. He was confident he could find venture capitalists willing to invest in its future.

His questions sought to probe Jiang Xiwen while concealing his own plans, to temper Jiang’s expectations. Whether they cooperated or Wang bought the source code outright, it would save trouble later.

Wang Xunfei didn’t feel this was betraying his friend Qi. The software’s value was a personal judgment. If it didn’t live up to expectations, it might be worthless junk. So partnering or purchasing involved risk.

If Jiang Xiwen insisted on independent operation and venture capital, he’d bear the risk alone. Selling or cooperating with Wang would lower that risk—a fair trade. Wang was simply easing the difficulty of collaboration with a subtle tactic.

“Of course!” Jiang Xiwen couldn’t tell if Wang was testing him, but he didn’t need to. He knew Wang Xunfei, no matter how capable, couldn’t imagine QQ’s full potential.

After affirming this, Jiang’s tone softened. “At least I believe it can make money—not through charging for the software itself, but through related products. Users buy virtual currency cards with RMB, exchange them for virtual currency, and purchase virtual clothes online. They can change their avatars’ appearances…”

As he spoke, Jiang Xiwen leaned over Wang Xunfei’s computer, closed ‘The Legend of the Mist,’ launched the panda icon software, and pointed to a corner. “Here, you can place different avatars. Later, with online shopping, games, and other services relying on this software…”

Having said this, Jiang Xiwen quietly watched Wang Xunfei, who was clearly stunned and deep in thought. This only deepened Jiang’s respect for him. An ordinary person would have dismissed talk of virtual clothes, avatars, and currencies as madness. In the age before Windows 95, images were always blurry and crude. No one would imagine paying to change a virtual appearance, much less envision online gaming.

Wang Xunfei’s mind raced. Jiang Xiwen’s ideas nearly made him see the boy in a new light. At first, it sounded absurd, but soon he understood. Though virtual, changing one’s avatar was like decorating a wallet or accessorizing a handbag in real life. The same applied online. Though unsure if it was the right idea, Wang saw a wildly daring business opportunity.