◎ The Game Launch Event ◎

The grand prize for *The Chivalric Romance* launch event had originally been set as a 29-inch color television, but after returning to Beijing, Gu Qiao changed all the prizes to computers.

Luo Peiyin’s comment that software specialty stores in America were falling behind hardware specialty stores in every respect had left an impression on her. Of course, Gu Qiao wouldn’t abandon software for hardware just because of that. Last year, the “Paris Coordinating Committee” had dissolved, and famous foreign computer brands had poured into the domestic market all at once, leaving domestic computer dealers mired in a price war with little to show for it.

Gu Qiao said to Xiao Qin, “Help me get 500 membership cards printed.”

Xiao Qin reminded her, “We just had a batch printed the day before yesterday.” With the launch ceremony for the game software approaching, the store manager had been run off her feet all day — she must have forgotten about this in all the commotion.

“I have other uses for them.” People who bought computers always needed to stock up on floppy disks. If customers could see advertising for her specialty store when purchasing a computer — rather than seeing ads for some other shop — that would be ideal. There was still one promotional channel missing from the game launch event: computer companies.

Luo Peiyin had shared with her a set of domestic computer growth data, and the rate at which computer ownership was increasing in the second half of the year had clearly surpassed previous years. Even without seeing that data, it wouldn’t have affected Gu Qiao’s judgment at all, since the number of individual customers purchasing software at her store was growing steadily. The most useful piece of information in that report for her was that Wenda Computers had shown the fastest sales growth among emerging brands the previous year.

Her approach to software was to achieve big results through modest means — and she applied the same philosophy to computers, specifically partnering with little-known but promising domestic brands.

Gu Qiao took her proposal and headed straight to Wenda Computer Company. Pretending she had an appointment with the boss, she simply sat outside the office and waited. While waiting in the corridor, she caught sight of a photograph of General Manager Wen — the standard appearance of a middle-aged cultured businessman. After one look, she felt inexplicably familiar with him, yet no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t remember where she had seen him before.

The moment Gu Qiao’s eyes caught a glimpse of General Manager Wen’s shadow, she immediately rushed forward. She was dressed in yellow — her favorite color — standing out more vividly than everything around her, like a moving billboard that couldn’t fail to catch the eye.

After Gu Qiao introduced herself, General Manager Wen looked her over. “You worked at the housing maintenance office at Z University, didn’t you?”

Gu Qiao was taken aback. “How did you know?” She hadn’t been any kind of notable figure at Z University.

Back when Gu Qiao worked at Z University’s housing maintenance office, General Manager Wen had been cramped into a small room in the faculty dormitory building. Compared to the building where the university leaders lived, their ordinary faculty building felt mediocre in every way — even when a corridor light broke and needed repair, you had to endure an endlessly long wait. But ever since Gu Qiao took charge of their faculty building, everything seemed to shift into overdrive, as though she were running a paid premium service where every minute faster meant she could charge more.

At that time, General Manager Wen lived on the top floor — whenever it rained or snowed, the room would start dripping. His wife had gone to America, and when snow fell, icy water dripped down, and he lived alone in that cold little room. His wife had always urged him to come to America so they could reunite, but his visa kept being rejected for reasons he couldn’t fathom. After the final rejection, he suddenly unleashed a torrent of English profanity right there at the visa office: *Even if you get down on your knees and beg me to go, I damn well won’t go anymore!* Like so many couples separated across oceans, once the possibility of reunion grew increasingly remote, separation became inevitable. That was the most desperate winter of his life — his wife had specifically hired a divorce lawyer to come find him for his signature. There was virtually nothing in the way of joint assets, almost nothing to divide, just a signature and it was done.

In the past, it would always take several days of dripping before anyone came. But that one time, he reported the repair in the morning, and someone arrived that very afternoon. Gu Qiao came together with the repairman — she was about the age of a university freshman, like one of the students sitting below his lectern. His first impression of her was that she was simultaneously vivacious and steady, a combination very few people managed to pull off. He thought to himself then, if only all the staff at the housing maintenance office were like this.

But at the time, he had only assumed Gu Qiao’s drive came from youthfulness.

What truly moved him was seeing Gu Qiao selling gloves outside the neighboring school’s gates in the dead of winter. Beyond her job at the university, she sold gloves with infectious enthusiasm — though smiling in the biting cold meant the winter wind blew into her open mouth, she smiled and gave her pitch to every single person who might possibly buy her gloves. Then he looked at himself: a man in his thirties, well-read, dragging through each day with a dead sort of listlessness — he truly had let down all the books he’d ever read.

Not long afterward, he resigned from Z University, and never saw Gu Qiao again. Truthfully, he had long since forgotten what she even looked like — she was just a stranger, after all. But whenever he faced difficulties, a blurry silhouette would flash through his mind.

The seed capital for Wenda Computers had come from money he made in the stock market. He eventually pulled out of the market and founded Wenda Computer Company.

The moment General Manager Wen heard the name “Gu Qiao,” he immediately connected it to that blurry silhouette.

Gu Qiao had changed considerably from back then, but her bearing and appearance weren’t the kind you needed to study carefully to remember — always bold and sweeping, always blazing forward with boundless energy.

Gu Qiao didn’t immediately play up their connection in order to get Wenda to sponsor her. She had always believed that if you wanted a business relationship to last, it had to be built on mutual benefit.

Smiling, Gu Qiao mentioned that her store was currently using Wenda computers, and that for this game software launch event, she would be purchasing Wenda computers out of her own pocket to use as raffle prizes. If the game software launch event was a big enough sensation, it could indirectly raise Wenda Computers’ profile as well.

“I want to promote products I believe in to more people.” As she finished speaking, Gu Qiao reached into her bag and produced a stack of cards offering an 18% discount at Gu Jia Software Specialty Store. “I’ll provide these discount cards to you free of charge. This is a privilege normally reserved for customers who spend over five hundred yuan at our store — but anyone who buys a Wenda computer can enjoy it immediately. At the same time, I’ll also put up posters in my store advertising the membership card promotion with Wenda purchases.” Gu Qiao went on to discuss her store’s foot traffic — in a major store at a prime location, this represented significant advertising exposure. Moreover, her store would eventually expand to cover East China and South China, and she hoped Wenda would offer her equal promotional treatment in return.

General Manager Wen studied Gu Qiao. Her eyes were large and bright, radiating absolute sincerity. She possessed the fundamental quality of a successful businessperson: she looked nothing like a swindler. In business, the worst thing you could have was a face that looked like it was always trying to pick pockets — yet her business acumen was fully intact.

People who bought computers naturally needed to stock up on floppy disks, and they generally didn’t just buy one or two — spending several hundred yuan was perfectly normal. Accepting her cards was effectively free advertising for her software specialty store, and an 18% discount wasn’t a bad deal either. But…

General Manager Wen voiced his “but”: “People buying computers will naturally need software, but people buying software already have computers and won’t need to buy new ones. I’m afraid the promotional benefit won’t be equal between us.”

Gu Qiao had prepared for this question long in advance. She had memorized the personal computer growth figures from that report with perfect clarity, and she recited the numbers to General Manager Wen. “The number of personal computer users is going to grow dramatically in the future. Some of my store’s customers are institutional users — that group will soon be acquiring their own personal computers as well. And computers are no longer lifetime purchases. I have great faith in Wenda’s future potential. When people upgrade their computers, the advertising in our store will also play a role.”

Gu Qiao also brought up her launch event: “Raffling off Wenda computers at our launch event is also excellent brand exposure for you. If you read the industry newspapers, you should have seen our advertisements.” Steeling herself against the pain to her wallet, Gu Qiao had run three consecutive days of large-format ads in the industry’s top-selling newspaper.

General Manager Wen had seen those ads, and found them quite interesting — he had even specifically asked his marketing department colleagues to study them.

“Are you planning to partner with other manufacturers as well?”

Gu Qiao didn’t answer right away. One computer manufacturer’s promotional reach wouldn’t be enough for her purposes.

“I’d prefer this to be an exclusive partnership.” General Manager Wen expressed considerable sincerity about the collaboration. “The raffle computers — we’ll sponsor them all.”

Gu Qiao hesitated for just one second, then smiled and said, “Then it’s a pleasure doing business with you.”

In addition to leaving her business card and discount cards at Wenda Computers, Gu Qiao also left behind the several large promotional posters she had brought along.

Just as she rose to leave, General Manager Wen suddenly asked, “Why did you switch to the software business?” When he had first encountered her, she was managing housing maintenance and working a side job selling pigskin gloves.

Gu Qiao thought for a moment and smiled. “I felt it had good prospects.” The Chinese word she used was a homophone — it could mean either “financial prospects” or “career prospects” — and to General Manager Wen’s ears, it sounded like she meant “a bright future.” Even she herself couldn’t quite say which meaning she had originally intended.

In the days before the launch event, Gu Qiao made a decision that wasn’t easy: for the first week, software would be sold at a 20% discount, and members with cards could stack the discount to get 30% off.

Even Qiu Shuang, who had always been supportive of Gu Qiao, tried to talk her out of it: “Even at 30% off, it’s still far cheaper than pirated copies — people who want pirated software won’t buy yours just because of a 30% discount. In the end, sales won’t go up and you’ll have just lost money for nothing. What you’ve invested in this software is enough to open a whole new store in Shanghai.”

Gu Qiao fully agreed with Qiu Shuang’s initial point: “But my target isn’t the people who are willing to wait for pirated software. The customers I’m aiming for are the ones who want to play this game right now.” This software had used the latest encryption methods — even if pirates cracked it and got it into production, they would need some time. What she was betting on was how many people would want to play the game before the pirated version hit the market.

“Trust me — I’ve already estimated the outcome. What we need to do is make sure nothing goes wrong on the day of the event and that we have enough software in stock.” Smiling, Gu Qiao added, “You haven’t played this game yet, have you? It’s quite fun.”

Gu Qiao called Shen Zheng, the person in charge at the game company, to ask about stock levels. Shen Zheng’s projected sales figure was ten thousand units — he assured her not to worry and that supply would be delivered on time.

“Didn’t I already tell you? Ten thousand isn’t enough — I need twenty thousand sets. Contact the manufacturer tomorrow to start production. The outer packaging and instruction booklets are flexible, but the floppy disk production line absolutely must be contacted tomorrow.” The game company wasn’t large — it operated out of a room behind the Yibin Hotel. The employees only handled development; production of the software, including outer packaging and instruction manuals, was all outsourced. Without a dedicated production line, failing to prepare in time would definitely cause problems.

“Twenty thousand?” Projecting ten thousand units in sales was already an expression of sufficient faith in their own product and in Gu Qiao’s promotional abilities — twenty thousand exceeded the imagination of a first-time game company founder.

“Twenty thousand.”

“If we print that many and they don’t sell, and we end up with a stockpile — what then?”

“That’s for me to worry about. I’ll pay the full contract price for every single unit produced.”

In front of others, Gu Qiao spoke with absolute conviction, as if a bestseller was a foregone conclusion. But the night before the launch event, she lay awake through the entire night. At first, she was mentally running through the upcoming event one last time, checking for gaps and blind spots — even though she had already prepared contingency plans. After a while, she wanted to sleep but found she couldn’t. She picked up the watch to check the time: two in the morning. This watch was Luo Peiyin’s.

On the first day of 1995, he had unclasped his watch and fastened it onto her wrist, taking her watch in return. Now the watch she had bought in Erenhot was on his wrist, showing American time.

Gu Qiao climbed out of bed and walked to the window to look at the stars. On a night like this, catching a glimpse of her constellation was impossible — but in her imagination, she could see it with perfect clarity.

The next day, Qiu Shuang used her extraordinary skill with makeup to conceal the dark circles under Gu Qiao’s eyes. She also wanted to cover up a pimple that had erupted on Gu Qiao’s lip from stress, but Gu Qiao had already risen from the chair, giving her no opportunity to perform any further cosmetic miracles.

Xu Ling came to cover the game launch event half out of friendship. At first, she had treated it as just another ordinary piece of news — until she saw the long queue of people waiting for the raffle. Before the launch event, Gu Qiao had blanketed every available surface with promotional posters, even hiring people to carry them on public buses. On media advertising, she had steeled herself and spent a large sum of money — unlike some manufacturers who spread their budget thin by buying small spaces in every paper, she concentrated all her advertising budget on one major industry newspaper and ran large-format ads for three consecutive days.

Of all the journalists who had come to cover the launch event, every one of them except Xu Ling had come for the appearance fee. Although Gu Qiao wouldn’t have shorted her on the appearance fee either, Xu Ling genuinely hadn’t come for the money — she wanted to see for herself what the first software market promotion of 1995 could actually achieve.

Xu Ling had seen every promotional trick in the book. At first, she assumed the people in line were hired plants — not that she distrusted Gu Qiao, only that she’d seen this kind of thing too many times, and a line this long on the street was an easy recipe for problems. But Gu Qiao had prepared contingency plans for this too, as though she’d known all along that this many people would come today. As the line grew longer and longer, Xu Ling finally realized that the people queuing were genuinely there to buy software.

Xu Ling found herself genuinely impressed by Gu Qiao — what a razor-sharp business instinct, to have predicted the software would be a hit even before today.

Today’s sales figures exceeded even Gu Qiao’s own estimates — she hadn’t expected to sell nearly four thousand sets on the very first day.

Madam Luo returned home from an outing and was sitting in the backseat with her son when they spotted a very long queue on the other side of the street.

“Which fast food place is having a grand opening?” The fourth young master of the Luo family wondered aloud. The fried chicken chain he used to love had drawn just this kind of wall-to-wall crowd when it first opened. Though he was older now and had actively started cutting back on fast food, his face was still pressed against the car window — and then he spotted the seven characters reading “Gu Jia Software Specialty Store.” The crowd in front of this store made every other nearby entrance look deserted by comparison.

“Now I remember — it’s the game software Cousin is distributing, going on sale today. Why are there so many people?” Some of Luo Fourth Young Master’s classmates had also seen the advertisement in the newspaper — some of them might even be in that queue right now.

“Mom, let’s get out and take a look,” he said. He had some curiosity about the game and was thinking of going to show some support for his cousin’s business.

Madam Luo gazed at the crowd through the car window, her eyes settling on the character “Gu” in the store’s signage. After a long silence, she said to her son, “There are so many people — let’s not go and add to your cousin’s chaos.”

The fourth young master sighed inwardly. How was it adding to chaos? It was clearly adding bricks and mortar to his cousin’s enterprise.

The one who appeared happiest that day was Lin Haichuan. In his heart, he privately attributed the sales success to his own widespread fame. He felt genuinely sorry for the advertisers who had earlier balked at his asking price and missed this opportunity. Of course, Gu Qiao’s efforts also deserved credit — primarily for possessing such a discerning eye, having spotted him among a crowd years ago to shoot that leather jacket advertisement, enabling her to pick his brains at a bargain price now.

At the first-day celebration dinner, Lin Haichuan sat waiting for Gu Qiao to shower him with praise. But before the dishes had even arrived, Gu Qiao’s phone started ringing one call after another — somehow the news had spread all the way to Tianjin, and people were calling to ask how much stock she could supply to them.

Gu Qiao called Shen Zheng at the game company. “You have to come to the celebration dinner. The twenty thousand we discussed isn’t going to be enough — I think total sales might reach thirty thousand or more… but we can talk about that tomorrow, there’s still time.” If they could sell thirty thousand copies, she could open stores in Shanghai and Guangzhou simultaneously. Gu Qiao’s desire to build a chain was growing more and more urgent — if she had locations across the country, she could sell her exclusively represented software entirely through her own channels. But right now, in order to expand into other regional markets, she still needed other stores to help distribute for her. Not only did this eat into her profit margins, but the efficiency was also poor, and both shipping logistics and outstanding payments were constant headaches.

Gu Qiao heard the reply from the other end of the line, and her brows knitted together. It was the first time Lin Haichuan had ever seen Gu Qiao look like this — in his mind, Gu Qiao was a cunning businesswoman who wore a perpetual smile, always laughing before she spoke. His first instinct was that something had gone wrong.

“What? You only prepared ten thousand?”

“Who could have imagined today’s sales would be this high?” Gu Qiao had imagined it — but he had thought Gu Qiao was out of her mind. Initially, when the sales figures kept climbing, Shen Zheng had been delighted. But as they climbed higher and higher, he started to panic. The first-day sales in the city alone had reached nearly four thousand — at the latest by the day after tomorrow, between the store inventory and distribution to various distributors, the stock would be wiped out. But in two days, there was absolutely no way to fulfill the twenty thousand sets Gu Qiao had demanded. One set contained two floppy disks. To manufacture them, you’d need 3.5-inch blank floppy disks — but he had contacted every manufacturer he could reach, and even combining them all, they could only scrape together just over ten thousand.

Although Gu Qiao had said to prepare stock for twenty thousand, game software surpassing ten thousand units in sales was already rare in the market. When Gu Qiao had said sales might reach twenty thousand, he’d been convinced Gu Qiao had lost her mind. And even though Gu Qiao said she would cover all losses regardless of sales volume, if she really lost money and couldn’t pay the balance, that would still be a problem. So Shen Zheng had decided to play it by ear — if the day’s sales were good, he would accelerate production, and there would still be time. But he hadn’t anticipated the first day’s sales being this high.

“Didn’t I already tell you to prepare stock for twenty thousand?” Of course, it had only been a verbal agreement — the sales volume had also exceeded her own projections, and she hadn’t anticipated the risk of stockouts arriving this quickly, so she had never committed the agreement to writing.

Gu Qiao lowered her voice, but her dissatisfaction was seeping through anyway. She suppressed her emotions and began thinking through how to resolve the production issue before they ran out of stock. The outer packaging and instruction booklets were the easy part — the floppy disks were the real problem. She glanced at her watch: less than an hour remained before the factories closed for the day.

Lin Haichuan watched as Gu Qiao conjured up her smile again and said into the phone: “Director Shen… How many 3.5-inch blank floppy disks do you currently have at the factory?”

“One thousand?… Thank you, thank you.”

She ended one call and made the next.

Nobody knew how many calls she made, but eventually the tension in Gu Qiao’s face eased slightly. She said to Qiu Shuang, “There still aren’t enough floppy disks — when I negotiate over the phone, the other side always holds something back. I need to go and talk to people in person. Stay here and make sure you take good care of our big star for me.” Gu Qiao knew Lin Haichuan loved to be praised and didn’t mind indulging him at triple the usual dose.

Lin Haichuan couldn’t help asking, “What happened?”

Gu Qiao smiled. “Sales are so good we’re about to run out of stock. I need to go handle it.”

“You’re completely money-obsessed. Running out of stock means the product is good — the more it’s out of stock, the more people want it. If you sell it a little later, the money just comes a little later, that’s all. What’s the rush?”

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