Reborn in 2000, starting from the university website

Chapter 160 Perspective (5K)

Bai Yuhang casually closed the office door, reducing the cheers outside to a muffled buzz.

He sat in the boss's chair, not in a hurry to look at any documents, but instead brewed himself another pot of tea.

I added a pinch of Longjing tea, and the water temperature was 80 degrees Celsius. It can't be too high, or it will taste bitter.

His hand holding the purple clay teapot was steady, but the thoughts swirling in his mind were even more intense than the decibels of the people celebrating outside.

Five million five hundred and fifty thousand.

The numbers are impressive.

beautiful.

In his past life, he had seen far too many impressive numbers.

At its peak, Wanda's annual revenue exceeded 200 billion yuan, and Wang Jianlin sat in the position of the richest man in China. Everyone thought that this empire was unbreakable.

The results of it?

With a single document, hundreds of billions of assets collapsed like playing cards; overseas hotels, cinemas, and yachts were sold off at discounted prices, but no one dared to take them.

The situation is even worse for Shide Group.

When Mr. Xu was at the height of his power, local officials lined up to invite him to dinner, and bank presidents would personally deliver loans to his door.

Later, the person died, the group disintegrated, and the multi-billion dollar empire sank to the bottom without a trace.

And there's Yuanhua.

During the years when Lai was involved in smuggling, containers were being shipped into the port one after another. Customs officials turned a blind eye, but when they finally took real action, there were too many loopholes, and nothing could be plugged, implicating a large number of people.

These people have one thing in common—they run too fast when they're making money, so fast that they forget to fix their brakes.

Bai Yuhang put down the teapot, got up, and took out a hardcover notebook from the drawer.

He brought this notebook from Harbin to Beijing. The cover was worn and frayed. The pages inside did not contain code or logic flowcharts, but a hand-drawn equity structure diagram.

Qihang Technology's current equity structure is very simple.

He personally holds 70% of the shares, China Venture Capital holds 20%, and the core members of the Qihang team hold 10%.

Clean, focused, and efficient.

But it's also dangerous.

Having one person hold a large percentage of shares is an advantage when the company is small; it allows for absolute control, high efficiency, and avoids disputes.

However, once a company grows to a certain critical point, this highly concentrated shareholding structure becomes the bullseye.

The bullseye isn't for the competitors to see; it's for others.

Some people don't like wearing suits or sitting in office buildings. Instead, they sit behind their desks, drinking specially supplied tea and flipping through internal reference materials.

They won't directly ask you for shares; sometimes they'll have other family members hold shares in the company in exchange for seemingly reasonable care and maintenance from them.

Otherwise, they will have all sorts of ways to force you to submit.

A company that has been built up through hard work still has to deal with tax audits, industry regulations, policy adjustments, and even a sudden media storm. Black swan events are likely to happen frequently, and the consequences may be unacceptable to you.

Bai Yuhang opened his notebook, drew a few lines next to the equity structure diagram, and wrote down a few names.

Zhang Lei, Liu Xin, Wang Jingbo.

These three lines represent the cards he currently holds.

Zhang Lei's venture capital investment came early and had a high level of mutual trust. However, as a single investment company, China Venture Capital Fund had limited size and social resources. It had been established in China for less than a year and could not withstand any major storms. Direct investment in the startup also reflected Zhang Lei's desire for quick success.

Liu Xin and Wang Jingbo have extensive connections and resources, but they each have their own agendas and will not be unconditional allies.

Bai Yuhang needs more cards.

He certainly didn't want to dilute his shares; he just wanted to put more chairs at the poker table.

The more chairs there are, the more people who want to overturn the table will have to think twice before doing so. After overturning one, how many more are left, and who is sitting on them?

Bai Yuhang picked up a pen and wrote four words in the blank space of his notebook: "Make many friends."

This is a saying from a great figure in a past life: make many friends and few enemies.

For thousands of years, there has been no fundamental difference between the marketplace and the battlefield in human society.

He then listed three more points:

First, we need to introduce diversified capital sources. There shouldn't be just one venture capital fund; we need industrial capital, strategic investors with state-owned backgrounds, and even overseas institutions.

There is a natural balance of power among these people, and none of them will allow the other to become dominant.

Second, tax compliance must be watertight. This isn't just for the tax authorities; it's for everyone who might cause trouble.

Clean books, transparent profits, and complete tax records are a shield, more effective than any lawyer's letter.

Third, going public. An IPO is not the end, but the beginning. After going public, the company becomes a public company with a transparent shareholder structure. Anyone who wants to manipulate things must do so under the spotlight, which actually protects the company.

With retail investors, institutions, media, and regulators all watching, the cost of operating in the shadows would be prohibitively high.

Bai Yuhang closed his laptop, leaned back in his chair, and closed his eyes for a few seconds.

An IPO is inevitable, but we can't rush it.

When you're in a hurry, it's like Chen Yizhou starting to run before he can even stand still, with holes everywhere under his feet.

He wanted to lay a solid foundation, deepen the moat, and raise the city walls.

When they finally stand on Nasdaq or the Hong Kong Stock Exchange to ring the bell, they will be setting sail from a fortress that no one can easily shake.

The internal phone on the table rang.

Bai Yuhang opened his eyes and picked up the receiver.

"Mr. Bai, a call came in from outside. It's from the Zhongguancun Science Park Management Committee, and they want to see you." Jiao Liwei's voice was tinged with nervousness.

Management Committee?

Bai Yuhang tapped his finger twice on the table.

The Zhongguancun Science Park Administrative Committee is a sub-provincial-level unit under the HD District Government, responsible for the registration, taxation, policy support, and industrial planning of high-tech enterprises in Zhongguancun.

Qihang Technology is registered within the Zhongguancun Science Park.

"Bring them in."

The call switched, and a middle-aged man's voice came through, unhurried and with a sense of propriety honed from years of working within the system.

"Excuse me, are you Mr. Bai from Qihang Technology? My surname is Zhou, and my name is Zhou Weimin from the Industrial Development Department of the Zhongguancun Science Park Management Committee."

"Hello, Director Zhou, I'm Bai Yuhang."

"Mr. Bai, I apologize for bothering you. We've recently been conducting visits and surveys of key enterprises in the park and have learned that Qihang Technology is developing very well. We'd like to find some time to visit your company, take a look around, and also discuss any needs the company may have, and see if the management committee can provide any policy support."

The words were spoken politely, with no hint of pressure in the tone.

But Bai Yuhang could tell that this was not a routine visit.

The data from Mobile Dream Network is reported to Mobile headquarters, and someone in the leadership at Mobile headquarters will communicate with them.

The SP rankings hadn't even been updated when the management committee called.

This indicates that someone is paying attention to the launch, and it's not just people on the move.

"Welcome, very much welcome." Bai Yuhang's tone became twice more enthusiastic. "Director Zhou, whenever is a convenient time for you? I'll be waiting for you anytime."

"How about the day after tomorrow? Wednesday morning, I'll bring two colleagues with me, it won't take up too much of your time."

"No problem, I'll be waiting for you at the company the day after tomorrow morning."

After hanging up the phone, Bai Yuhang held his purple clay teacup and stared at a gray office building not far from the Hailong Building outside the window, his gaze darkening.

When government officials come to conduct research, it can be with good intentions or not.

The key is what you show them.

Bai Yuhang picked up the internal phone and dialed Jiang Shuo's extension.

"Shuo, someone from the management committee is coming the day after tomorrow. Prepare everything you can, including tax returns, daily financial reports, and revenue structure analysis. Make sure it's clear at a glance that every penny of Qihang's money is clean and every tax has been paid in full."

Jiang Shuo paused for a moment on the phone: "President Bai, what's the management committee doing here?"

"They said it was a field visit and research."

There was a two-second silence on the phone.

Jiang Shuo's voice rang out again, but the relaxed tone he had when he announced the good news was gone, replaced by a layer of alertness that only someone in finance would have.

"Understood. Mr. Bai, there's one more thing I was just about to tell you—this afternoon, the tax officer called me back and said that the district bureau noticed a significant increase in our prepaid tax amount for July and would like to schedule a time to review the accounts."

Bai Yuhang put down his teacup, a slight smile appearing at the corner of his mouth.

It came faster than he expected.

"Make an appointment," he said. "The sooner the better. Take the initiative to invite them to check. Let them know that Qihang's accounts are always open to the public, and we're not afraid to let anyone see them."

Jiang Shuo responded and hung up the phone.

Bai Yuhang opened his notebook and added another line below "Make many friends"—

Government relations: proactive, transparent, and cooperative.

It's not about kneeling to cooperate, it's about standing to cooperate.

Let them see a healthy, compliant, high-tech company that makes a significant contribution to local tax revenue.

Make them feel that protecting Qihang is protecting the reputation of Zhongguancun.

Turning themselves into their achievements is more effective than any public relations tactic.

He closed his laptop and was about to get up to go to the small conference room to check on Wang Xiaochuan's progress when his phone vibrated in his pocket.

A short message.

The sender was Liu Xin.

"Mr. Bai, the Taihe Rye Music deal is done. The offer was 30% lower than expected. Also, there's some news you might be interested in: Sohu's Zhang Chaoyang just returned from Nasdaq. The roadshow didn't go very well, and Wall Street significantly lowered Sohu's valuation due to the lackluster performance of its social media business. Sohu's underwriters, through friends in investment banking, asked me if Qihang would be interested in acquiring the social media assets spun off from Sohu."

Bai Yuhang stared at the words on the screen, his thumb hovering over the keyboard, motionless.

Sohu's social assets.

5Q Campus Network, ChinaRen Community, and Sohu's campus user database accumulated over several years.

In Wu Tao's hands, these things were a bad hand.

But what if someone else plays?

Queen's Road Central, Hong Kong Island.

Hong Kong Island in July is even more humid than Beijing. The air is thick with moisture, and your shirt will stick to your back after just a few steps.

When Liu Xin came out of the Peninsula Hotel, Wang Jingbo had already been waiting downstairs for ten minutes.

Without exchanging greetings, the two got into the taxi one after the other and gave an address—Tsui Wah Restaurant on Wellington Street.

It's not that I didn't want to go to a more respectable place, it's just that the person I was meeting specified this place.

Duan Zhongtan, the Asia-Pacific copyright director of Rolling Stone Records, is in his forties with long hair. He only buttoned three buttons on his shirt from the bottom up, revealing a patch of sun-reddened skin on his chest.

He sat by the window in the tea restaurant, a bowl of cart noodles in front of him. He had eaten half of it, and his chopsticks were resting on the rim of the bowl.

"Mr. Liu, Mr. Wang, please sit down." Old Duan raised his chin slightly but did not get up.

Liu Xin pulled out a chair and sat down, glancing at the cart noodles on the table without saying anything.

Wang Jingbo sat down next to him, poured herself a glass of iced lemon tea, and took a sip first.

"Mr. Duan, how's your thinking about what we discussed on the phone?" Liu Xin went straight to the point.

Old Duan picked up a noodle with his chopsticks and put it in his mouth. After chewing it a couple of times, he said, "Mr. Liu, it's not that I'm being disrespectful. To be honest, we've discussed Rolling Stone's digital rights in internal meetings three times, and the conclusion is always the same—we don't know how much this stuff is worth."

Wang Jingbo adjusted his glasses: "So that's why your price is so high?"

"What do you mean by 'high'?" Old Duan put down his chopsticks, leaned back in his chair, and said, "You offered 100 RMB per song for exclusive digital licensing, which I thought was quite reasonable, but the board of directors didn't approve it. 500, a fixed price. To be honest, MP3s are everywhere now, pirated copies. Who's going to pay for the real thing? Our CDs aren't even selling well anymore. What's the difference between holding digital rights and just holding onto waste paper? We'll get whatever money we can."

Liu Xin's expression didn't change, but she rolled her eyes inwardly.

Five hundred yuan a song.

Rock Records has thousands of Chinese hit songs and platinum singles. In 2000, the number of popular singers alone included Sylvia Chang, Lo Ta-yu, Jonathan Lee, Chen Sheng, Chyi Yu, Jeff Chang, Emil Chau, Sandy Lam, and many more. The total value of these songs was less than two million RMB.

According to Bai Yuhang, this price will be practically free ten years from now, but it's already considered a high price now.

"Mr. Duan, we're very sincere." Liu Xin pulled a contract from her briefcase and pushed it over. "Exclusive digital licensing, a one-time buyout covering online streaming and download rights on all internet platforms in mainland China. Let's not calculate it song by song; let's get straight to the point: the entire Rock Records catalog packaged together for a total price of 1.8 million."

Old Duan took the contract, flipped through two pages, and didn't even frown.

"One million eight hundred thousand, fine. But I have one condition—the payment method has to be changed. It has to be paid in two installments within three months. If it's too slow, I won't be able to explain it to the group's board of directors in Taipei."

"Pay in full at once," Wang Jingbo interjected casually from the side.

Old Duan stopped flipping through the contract and looked up at him.

"Our client has ample funds; the 1.8 million will be received in one lump sum, without delay or arrears." Wang Jingbo's tone was as calm as if she were giving an academic presentation at Cornell. "President Duan only needs to sign and stamp the contract, and the payment will be transferred to Rolling Stone's corporate account within three working days."

Old Duan stared at Wang Jingbo for two seconds, flipped the contract back to the first page, picked up the pen next to him, and quickly signed his name.

"Great." Old Duan pushed the contract back, picked up his cart noodles and continued eating. "Mr. Liu, Mr. Wang, who did you buy this for?"

Which company in mainland China?

"Don't worry about that. You'll know when the payment arrives." Liu Xin put the contract into her briefcase and stood up.

After leaving Tsui Wah, the two walked side by side for a few steps on Wellington Street.

Wang Jingbo spoke first: "Warner is at 3 PM, and EMI's people will fly over tomorrow morning. I've asked a friend to help me with Emperor Entertainment; we can talk about it over dinner tonight."

"Let's negotiate the film and television rights for Qin Hua as well," Liu Xin said, flipping through her phone's notes as she walked. "In Bai Yuhang's list, the digital rights to movies have a higher priority than music. The copyright holders of a bunch of films from the golden age of Hong Kong cinema are practically paying you to buy them now."

Wang Jingbo stopped and adjusted his glasses: "Old Liu, have you calculated the total amount of our purchases for this trip?"

"Preliminary estimate: acquiring the entire operation will cost no more than 15 million RMB."

The two looked at each other but neither spoke.

Fifteen million.

If this were put into the accounts of Morningside or IDG, it wouldn't even amount to a fraction of their total revenue.

But the items bought for 15 million might be worth more than a thousand times in five or ten years.

Liu Xin was certainly aware of this.

Having spent over a decade navigating the venture capital world, his intuition told him that Bai Yuhang wasn't asking them to scan copyrights, but rather for an entry ticket to a new era.

Digital music, online video, streaming media—these are terms that few people take seriously now, but once internet bandwidth picks up, content will be the hardest currency.

In the future, whoever holds the copyright will be the landlord who collects rent.

Now, land deeds are worth almost as much as worthless paper.

"Let's go." Liu Xin took a step forward, her tone carrying a hint of excitement only an old hunter could muster. "Before these record and film companies wake up, let's take as many as we can."

Wang Jingbo followed his steps, and the two turned into a narrow alley. Not far through, they reached the Central MTR station.

The afternoon sun on Hong Kong Island beat down relentlessly. Two men in handmade suits blended in unnoticed among the workers queuing to buy takeout outside a tea restaurant.

Who would have thought that these two financial tycoons, who together manage billions of dollars, are currently searching for discounted DVDs all over Hong Kong for an 18-year-old college student?

3 PM, Warner Music Asia Pacific Headquarters, Wan Chai.

Warner Bros.' people are more decisive than Rolling Stones.

They didn't even haggle much. After receiving the offer, the copyright director immediately made an internal call to consult with the New York headquarters, and returned twenty minutes later to say "deal."

Warner Music has a smaller library of Chinese music than Rolling Stone, but its library of copyrighted Western music is staggering.

Based on Bai Yuhang's list, Liu Xin added a batch of classic European and American albums from the 1980s and 90s, bringing the total price to less than 500,000 US dollars.

After signing the documents and coming out, Wang Jingbo looked at the increasingly thick contract folder in his hand in the elevator and suddenly said, "Old Liu, how did Bai Yuhang even think of collecting copyrights in advance? The bunch of people in the internet industry in China these days are only thinking about traffic, users, and Google. Nobody cares about content copyright."

95

Liu Xin, clutching her briefcase, stared at the floor number on the elevator door and jumped down.

"That's why I insisted on voting for him." Liu Xin's voice was very soft. "What this kid sees is on a completely different level from what we see. He's not chasing trends, he's creating them."

The elevator arrived on the first floor, the doors opened, and the two walked into the Warner lobby.

Wang Jingbo suddenly stopped and took out his phone from the inside pocket of his suit—it had been muted during the meeting.

Three missed calls were displayed on the screen, all from IDG's Beijing office.

He called back, and the phone was answered after one ring. On the other end was his assistant analyst, Xiao Wu, whose voice was trembling with urgency.

"Mr. Wang! The SP rankings have been updated ahead of schedule! Qihang Technology 7"

"How many?"

"Number one nationwide. Daily revenue is more than double that of the second place. No, Mr. Wang, that's not the point—" Xiao Wu took a breath, "Jim Breyer from AcceI just called our Beijing office, asking for Qihang Technology's contact information. He said they noticed a company called Facebook in Silicon Valley, and after investigating for a long time, all the clues point to China. He asked if IDG has any connection with this company."

Wang Jingbo tightened her grip on her phone.

Facebook.

He knew the name, but Bai Yuhang had never mentioned it to him.

Doug from Sequoia Capital has been scouring Silicon Valley for a while now, and the news has already spread throughout the industry.

A social networking site with a penetration rate of over 80% in Ivy League universities is registered in Delaware, and its shareholder information is kept strictly confidential.

Now AcceI has also come knocking, and they've even found IDG's Beijing office.

They were feeling their way back along the line.

Wang Jingbo glanced at Liu Xin, who was scrolling through her phone next to her, and lowered her voice to a whisper.

"Don't say anything, don't reply to anything. Just say we don't know."

After hanging up the phone, Wang Jingbo stood in front of the glass doors of Warner's lobby. The sunlight from Hong Kong Island shone through the glass onto his face, and he squinted.

He had a vague idea of ​​who was behind Facebook.

But he planned not to ask anything or say anything.

The less you know about some things, the longer you live, and perhaps the better you'll live.