February 18th, Monday.
Pei Qian arrived at his office as usual, and Meng Chang was already waiting for him.
“Mr. Pei, here’s the plan you assigned before the Spring Festival. It’s ready now. There was a slight delay due to the holiday, but we’re still on time,” Meng Chang said as he handed a plan to Pei Qian.
Pei Qian took it and nodded. “Yes, not working during the Spring Festival is the right thing to do. This deserves encouragement.”
“As for the timing, you don’t need to worry too much. Tenda’s work philosophy is that as long as you complete it before the deadline, it’s fine—being late is not acceptable, but being too early isn’t good either. Your timing is just right.”
For Pei Qian, if employees worked too slowly, it would affect the settlement, which was unacceptable; but if they worked too quickly, it meant employees had a very positive work attitude, and he would have to assign them new tasks, which was annoying.
Therefore, completing work at a moderate pace, just before the deadline, was perfect.
However, Meng Chang interpreted these words quite differently.
“Too slow isn’t good, too fast isn’t good either?”
“If it’s too slow, it either means the work allocation is unreasonable and employees have been assigned too much work, or it means the employees’ work efficiency is poor; if it’s too fast, it suggests the work was completed too hastily and carelessly, which could lead to hidden problems.”
“Blindly pursuing speed is not advisable. Only by arranging work plans appropriately based on the specific circumstances of each task, and always following the plan, can these tasks be completed in an orderly manner.”
“Mr. Pei is truly deserving of his position. Even a casual remark contains such profound meaning!”
Meng Chang couldn’t help but marvel inwardly.
Pei Qian was unaware of Meng Chang’s rich inner dialogue. He took the plan and quickly scanned through it.
This time, Meng Chang was responsible for the publicity plan for a charity activity. Pei Qian had two requirements for him: First, to incorporate some commercial elements into this charity activity to burn more money; Second, the publicity plan needed to achieve the goal of “good publicity effect in remote rural areas, poor publicity effect online and in other unrelated fields.”
After much contemplation in seclusion, Meng Chang had finally produced his answer.
“The Chu Ji Plan?” Pei Qian first noticed the name of the plan.
Meng Chang nodded and explained, “Yes. The name comes from the mission I established for this charity plan.”
“Stay true to our origins as we grow, help all under heaven once we succeed.”
“Splitting the characters of ‘Tenda’ (腾达) also reveals the historical mission and social responsibility that Tenda bears.”
“Additionally, ‘Ji’ (济) means to aid, rescue, or relieve—to help the poor or save the world. ‘Chu’ (初) has two different meanings: The first is ‘beginning,’ suggesting this is the starting point for Tenda’s large-scale charity activities; the second meaning is ‘elementary’ or ‘primary,’ which aligns with our focus on primary and secondary school students as the main targets of our support.”
“These two characters together not only conform to the mission of ‘Stay true to our origins as we grow, help all under heaven once we succeed,’ but also reflect the nature and goals of our activity.”
Pei Qian nodded slightly.
Well, not bad. Employees like Meng Chang who came up with names while creating plans were truly good employees!
He was annoyed by those employees who were terrible at naming things, requiring Pei to personally name everything each time. How ridiculous!
The name “Chu Ji Plan” sounded a bit unnatural at first, but after hearing Meng Chang’s explanation of its meaning, it immediately became impressive.
This is why many good names aren’t necessarily good because they sound nice or use rare characters, but because they contain beautiful meanings and a complete sense of artistic conception, making people naturally think of a special context when mentioned—that’s why they sound good.
The mission Meng Chang came up with was also very good.
If you’re fortunate enough to get ahead of others, don’t become arrogant, thinking you’re so excellent or brilliant. You should look back at those who fell behind and clearly understand that your success might simply be due to the benefits of the times and society. You have a responsibility to help others.
The only pity was that the name and mission didn’t express the wonderful wish of losing money.
But after all, this was just a charity plan with a bit of commercial attributes, so it was fine without it.
Pei Qian continued reading, focusing on the specific measures of the Chu Ji Plan.
First, how to add some commercial elements to the charity.
The plan clearly stated that the Chu Ji Plan was a confidential plan, and any participant was not allowed to actively advertise or show off. Before participating in this plan, participants must first sign a confidentiality agreement, and only then could they participate.
The way to participate in the Chu Ji Plan was: individuals or companies could freely donate to the Chu Ji Plan. These funds would, according to Tenda’s charity plan arrangement, be transformed into various supplies to help the target groups.
At this stage, it would be transformed into meat, eggs, milk, and some food ingredients to help poor students and their families. As for what the next stage would be, it wasn’t determined yet, but regardless of how the specific form changed, the rules would remain the same.
Anyone who participated in the Chu Ji Plan could check the donation records of each individual or organization on the official website, and check where each donation went. For example, if someone donated one thousand yuan, they could check whether this money was still in the account or had already been transformed into supplies to help the target group.
Where the supplies were purchased, how much was purchased, which school and class they were given to—all these detailed information could be queried.
Just like orders on a shopping website, this feature wasn’t difficult to implement.
Participating in the Chu Ji Plan wasn’t completely without return, but the benefits were limited to certain preferential treatment when conducting economic activities with Tenda. However, there was no specific explanation of what kind of preferential treatment, just an empty promise.
Next was how to ensure that this plan had a higher profile in rural areas but a lower profile on the internet.
Meng Chang’s publicity method was to write slogans in remote rural areas!
Moreover, Chu Ji Plan publicity slogans would be interspersed among a large number of regular slogans unrelated to the Chu Ji Plan.
The publicity slogans for the Chu Ji Plan wouldn’t even mention the four characters “Chu Ji Plan,” but would use down-to-earth slogans like “Children happily go to school, rice, flour, oil, and salt come to your home,” allowing villagers to associate “going to school” with “rice, flour, oil, and salt,” objectively creating a publicity effect.
This created a double insurance.
The first insurance was that all individuals or organizations participating in the Chu Ji Plan could not deliberately emphasize, disclose, or promote the Chu Ji Plan to the outside world; the second insurance was that all publicity would be handled by Meng Chang’s team, but this publicity only included “writing slogans in villages,” and these would be mixed with many other slogans, perfectly hiding the Chu Ji Plan’s promotional language among other slogans.
This way, it could achieve Pei Qian’s requirement of “good publicity effect in poor rural areas, but almost no one knows about it on the internet.”
Of course, Pei Qian also knew very well that no wall is completely airtight.
No matter how low-profile and confidential the Chu Ji Plan was, someone would discover it someday.
But that was fine too. Being discovered didn’t mean it would immediately become popular, and becoming popular didn’t mean it would immediately lead to more profits.
As long as they could take advantage of this time difference and burn more money before the plan became widely known, his purpose would be achieved.
Pei Qian read through the entire plan and nodded, “Well, not bad! This is exactly the plan I wanted.”
“There are no issues. You can proceed according to this plan.”
It had to be said that Meng Chang was someone you could rely on.
Setting aside whether the plan was good or not, just his spirit of aiming to lose money made Pei Qian greatly appreciate him!
Meng Chang took back the plan but didn’t leave immediately, as he had other matters to attend to.
Charles, one of the executives of Finger Company, was going to great lengths to establish an investment company, clearly intending to take advantage of Dayark Group’s sale of Finger Company to swallow it whole and reap the benefits. Fan Xiaodong had spotted this opportunity and wanted to make money in the process, but the prerequisite was knowing whether Mr. Pei would get involved.
Meng Chang needed to slightly probe Mr. Pei’s intentions.
Although he had prepared his words before coming, when he actually faced Mr. Pei, he still felt a bit nervous.
Meng Chang felt a bit like Jing Ke assassinating Emperor Qin—before arriving, all preparations had been made thoroughly, but upon actually seeing Mr. Pei, he still panicked terribly.
Fortunately, Meng Chang had strong psychological resilience and quickly steadied himself.
After careful consideration, he said, “Mr. Pei, what are your thoughts on… Finger Company’s recent situation?”
Pei Qian didn’t think much and instinctively replied, “Finger Company? I hope they can hold on for a bit longer.”
Regarding Finger Company, Pei Qian had only two words: disappointing!
Look at what they did during the Spring Festival!
They went through so much trouble to organize so many activities, but it would have been better if they hadn’t done anything.
If they hadn’t done anything, they could have probably continued to muddle along, but after their activities, a large number of players quit the game! This directly led to Dragon Yu Group strategically abandoning the IOI project and turning to embrace “Bullet Hole 2.”
Pei Qian was also very upset. How many chances had he given Finger Company? Had they ever shown any backbone? Huh?
So now, Pei Qian had completely lost hope in Finger Company and just hoped they could hold on a bit longer, so that GOG would unify the MOBA genre a bit later.
But hearing this answer, Meng Chang was stunned.
What did Mr. Pei mean by this? Why would he hope that IOI would hold on longer?
No matter how pitiful IOI was, it was still GOG’s competitor. Shouldn’t he hope they would fail quickly?
Was he pretending to be humble? It didn’t seem entirely that way; Mr. Pei’s expression had some genuineness to it.
Could it be…
Meng Chang suddenly brightened up, understanding.
Mr. Pei had obviously seen the dramatic changes brewing within Finger Company, so he hoped that these dramatic changes would last a bit longer?
