Chapter One

In every industry, there are people who make a fortune, some who just get by, and others who lose money. In truth, people's intelligence is much the same—some simply put it to use while others let their minds idle away.

The summer was unusually hot. For newcomers to this city, it might seem impossible to go outside during the day, with air conditioners running twenty-four hours a day. Yet, as with all things, it’s relative: the streets were never quite empty—just more or less crowded, depending on the hour.

After so many years in this city, Xiao Tianci still hadn’t grown accustomed to the summer heat, especially when stepping out of the office at midday. He always felt as if a wave of hot air surged into his eyes, ears, nose, and mouth, scorching his very lungs. He had no choice but to pause and adjust, otherwise, despite his decent health, he might easily collapse in the swelter.

“No way, you’re still like this after all these years?” A plump, fair hand landed on Xiao Tianci’s shoulder. Its owner, Tong Cong, followed him out, weighing well over two hundred pounds—a true heavyweight.

Xiao Tianci glanced at his dorm mate and friend, Tong Cong, and shook his head helplessly. It wasn’t just that Tong Cong didn’t understand—he himself couldn’t figure it out. He was half a head taller than Tong Cong and a hundred pounds lighter, yet every time, he seemed to suffer more from the heat. It made no sense.

“Hey!” Xiao Tianci knocked Tong Cong’s hand away. When Tong Cong leaned on him, it was as if half his body’s weight pressed down; if not for Xiao Tianci’s sturdy build, he might have been flattened. Tong Cong was a character—unlike others who lamented their weight and endlessly vowed to diet, he remained unfazed. He’d been over one-eighty pounds at the start of college, and after three years, he’d gained another notch.

Their other dorm mates couldn’t take it anymore and tried to persuade him to lose weight. But at the mere mention of dieting, Tong Cong would get annoyed. “Why should I? Eating well is a blessing; being fat is a blessing. You all wish you could put on weight but can’t. Besides, it’s my own body—what’s it to anyone else?”

They tried reasoning with him from a health perspective, but since Tong Cong had represented the university in international debate competitions, his eloquence could overwhelm five opponents at once. In the end, everyone gave up, letting the “deadweight” do as he pleased—even if it meant “eating himself to death.”

After about a minute, Xiao Tianci finally caught his breath. Tong Cong, knowing his habit, waited until he looked better before asking, “Fifth, have you really decided to quit?”

Xiao Tianci nodded resolutely. After three years together, Tong Cong knew him too well—once he made up his mind, he never wavered. With a sigh, Tong Cong pulled an envelope from his pocket and handed it to him. “Here, this is from my dad.”

Judging by its thickness, Xiao Tianci guessed there was about twenty thousand yuan inside. He pushed it back. “Third Brother, Uncle Tong has taken such good care of me these past two years—I can’t accept this now. Please tell him I appreciate his kindness, but I really can’t take the money.”

Tong Cong pouted and laughed. “You give my old man too much credit. Haven’t I told you? He’s the stingy type, especially in business.” He weighed the envelope. “Even though you only worked during the holidays, you’ve closed quite a few deals for him over the past two years. Do you know what he said to me?”

“What?”

Ever since his freshman year, Xiao Tianci had worked part-time at Tong Cong’s father’s company every holiday. In three years, he’d only met the boss a few times—all matters were handled through the department manager.

Tong Cong tugged him along. “Let’s find somewhere cooler to talk, before you faint.”

“Ha, I think you’re just tired of standing.” The two of them headed for a familiar corner ice cream shop. Tong Cong was the type who’d always rather sit than stand, and rather lie down than sit—unless tied down, he wouldn’t stand to chat.

No matter what the food was, Xiao Tianci had never seen Tong Cong refuse it—meat or vegetables, hot or cold, he devoured everything as if his stomach opened onto another dimension.

After busying himself at the table, Tong Cong wiped his mouth and said, “My old man is very impressed with you—he wants to win you over so you’ll work for him straight after graduation. Based on your performance these past years, you could go straight to being a department manager. As for the twenty thousand, it’s your bonus. You’ve helped the company a lot, but since you were only part-time, he couldn’t promote you or pay you too much.”

Looking at the money, Xiao Tianci smiled faintly but said nothing. Tong Cong’s father’s company was sizable, worth hundreds of millions. In this metropolis, he might not be a tycoon, but he was certainly among the early rich.

In this age, where PhDs and master’s degrees were as common as cattle, and college graduates abounded, landing a good job meant everything. Many people spent decades studying and working just for such a position. And starting as a department manager, with an annual salary over three hundred thousand—if this offer was publicly posted, thousands of graduates would fight over it.

Seeing Xiao Tianci’s ambiguous smile, Tong Cong pushed the money toward him. “I knew you wouldn’t take it—stubborn as ever. My dad thought this would clinch the deal. I told him you’d refuse, but he thought I was just being difficult. Anyway, take the money—think of it as separate from the job. I’m counting on you to treat me tonight. Now that you’re flush, let’s go out for some fun.”

This time, Xiao Tianci didn’t refuse. He accepted the money, weighed it, and said firmly, “No treat.”

“What? Come on, don’t be stingy—let’s talk it over.”

He tucked the money away. “If I treated you somewhere like that, I might as well hand you the cash. With your appetite, I’d probably end up paying extra.”

Tong Cong finished a Mexican fruit bowl, grinning. “Hey, am I really that bad? I’m a cultured, knowledgeable modern college student, you know.”

“Yeah, right.” Xiao Tianci shot him a look of disdain and sipped his juice. The air conditioning felt wonderful, but he knew he couldn’t stay indoors forever. Just thinking about stepping outside made his airways constrict.

“So… what are you planning to do?” Tong Cong mumbled through a mouthful of food, but his question was clear enough.

Setting down his juice, Xiao Tianci gazed out the window. Even in this heat, there were always people out—no one would willingly brave such weather, but survival and work demanded it.

“I’m planning to start something myself.” Over the years, he’d saved enough, and after careful research and analysis, he’d found his target.

Tong Cong wasn’t surprised. Living together for three years, they knew each other inside out. Despite his lazy appearance and hefty frame, only those who truly knew him realized how sharp-minded Tong Cong was.

But seeing him crane his neck and grin ingratiatingly, Xiao Tianci sensed trouble—he knew from experience that Tong Cong wanted something.

Still, he had nothing to hide from his friend. “I’m going to open a shop—something to do with mobile phones.”

Tong Cong slumped in his chair, nearly breaking it. “Hmm. The domestic mobile phone market is growing by thirty to thirty-five million users a year, and in the big cities, annual replacement rates top forty percent. With such a massive market, saturation isn’t an issue. But the market isn’t what it used to be—it’s no longer a ‘gold rush.’ Now it’s mature, and if you want to break in, I’m not sure…” He shook his head and called for another Brazilian fruit ice.

Xiao Tianci answered with confidence, “In a commercialized society, there are no set equations. When one person complains that business is hard, another is counting cash until he’s out of breath. The difference might be that you see one plus one as two, while he sees it as always greater than two. So there will always be people lamenting the difficulty of business, and always those making money—it depends on your approach.”

Tong Cong still doubted the mobile phone business but, trusting Xiao Tianci, pressed him. “So? Out with it—what’s your plan?”

“There are two main areas. First, selling mobile phones. My recent research and data point to a few conclusions. First, consumers’ motives have shifted from ‘necessity’ to ‘optional’ purchases—buying a phone is now more about impulse. Second, people—especially the young—are increasingly drawn to novelty and following trends, so the market is skewing younger. Third, as the market liberalizes, prices are more transparent—people shop less for the best deal and value convenience more. Finally, demand for value-added services is rising.”

Tong Cong nodded. “And then?”

“It’s simple. Phones are now a ‘fashion toy,’ and the trend will mirror foreign markets: eventually, the phones themselves will cost nothing, with profits coming from communication fees. So now’s the time to set up a chain of mini mobile phone shops—not big stores, but small, conveniently located like corner shops, where people can buy phones right at the door. What do you think?”

Tong Cong pondered. “Sounds familiar, I think…”

Xiao Tianci smiled. “It’s not exactly a new idea—someone mentioned it last year, but no one’s really done it on a national scale yet.”

“You think it’ll work?”

“The market potential is huge—very promising.”

“Are you going for it?”

Xiao Tianci shook his head. “Not yet. While it doesn’t require a ton of capital, it’s still beyond me for now. Besides, if you don’t do it big—nationwide—it’s not worth it.”

Tong Cong nodded. “You’re right—it’s a good idea. I’ll bring it up with my dad. But what are you planning, then?”

“Mobile phone accessories.”