The richest man started taking advantage of loopholes after joining Alibaba.

It's 2 AM, late at night.

The top-floor operations room of the Weiguang Building was filled with smoke.

A dozen high-performance laptops were running simultaneously, the hum of their cooling fans mixed with the frantic clatter of keyboards, creating a chaotic atmosphere.

Product Director Lao Zhang stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray filled with corpses, his brow furrowed in a deep frown.

"President Lin, this logic doesn't hold water."

He pushed a thick user behavior analysis report to the center of the table and emphasized it twice with his finger.

"The moats of WeChat and Alipay are too deep; it's a habit built on hundreds of billions of dollars of capital."

Old Zhang's voice was hoarse, conveying a deep sense of powerlessness.

"Users aren't stupid. No one will download a new app and go through the cumbersome process of binding their bank card just for a few dollars in red envelopes."

The meeting room was deathly silent.

Everyone had their heads down, staring at the glowing screen in front of them.

This is the truth.

Faced with behemoths like BAT (Baidu, Alibaba, Tencent), their current struggles are like trying to pierce a tank's armor with a stick.

Lin Che didn't speak.

He leaned back in his chair, toying with the red whiteboard marker in his hand, his gaze sweeping over every tired and fearful face in the room.

Fear is contagious.

Especially when the opponent is so strong.

"Old Zhang, you're right."

Lin Che suddenly stood up, the chair scraping against the floor with a sharp, piercing sound.

He walked up to the huge whiteboard and uncapped the pen.

The pungent smell of ink spread.

"If I directly distributed 200 million yuan in cash to all the people of China, it would only amount to a few cents per person."

He wrote a huge "200,000,000" on the whiteboard and then drew a big X.

"No one will bend down for five cents."

He turned around, the red pen tip pointing directly at the crowd below the stage, his eyes looking at a pack of hungry wolves waiting to be fed.

"But what if I don't give them money directly, but instead let them **gamble**?"

bet?

Old Zhang was stunned, and subconsciously pushed up his glasses.

Lin Che turned around, his wrist moving rapidly.

The pen tip scratched against the whiteboard, making a rapid and rhythmic squeaking sound.

He quickly sketched out the outlines of five rectangular cards on the whiteboard.

"Prosperity. Harmony. Friendliness. Patriotism."

He wrote and read aloud at the same time, his voice deep and powerful, as if he were chanting some kind of incantation.

Finally, his pen stopped on the blank card in the middle.

"Dedicated."

The two large characters are powerfully written, penetrating the paper.

"This is our nuclear weapon, codenamed 'Collecting Five Blessings'."

Lin Che turned around and slammed the pen he was holding onto the table.

"Tell users that as long as they collect all five cards, they can split the 200 million yuan on New Year's Eve."

"Two hundred million, that sounds like a lot, right?"

Fatty Wang listened in stunned silence, forgetting to put the Snickers bar he had just peeled into his mouth.

"But brother, isn't it still the same? In the end, everyone still only gets a few cents."

No, they're not the same.

Lin Che walked up to Fatty Wang, his eyes flashing with an eerie light, and directly and crudely implanted this concept into everyone's minds.

"Because some people couldn't gather all the members."

He returned to the whiteboard, picked up a red pen, and wrote a breathtaking string of numbers below the "Dedication Blessing" character.

0.001%.

"I want to make the first four cards as numerous as waste paper, so numerous that users can find them even when they go to the toilet."

Lin Che's voice suddenly lowered, becoming sinister.

"But this one, I want to make it rarer than a diamond."

"That's the gap."

He clenched his fist tightly, as if he had crushed some invisible barrier.

"When someone has four cards and is just one card away from receiving 200 million, he'll go crazy."

"He would harass his extended family, pressure his classmates and colleagues, download our app, and add countless strangers as friends, all just to get this damn 'Dedication' card."

The meeting room was eerily quiet.

Only Lin Che's voice remained, striking everyone's head like a heavy hammer.

This is not giving out red envelopes.

This is clearly exploiting human greed to create a nationwide social media virus.

Old Zhang stared at the "0.001%" on the whiteboard and shuddered uncontrollably.

A sense of dread, originating from the depths of my soul, crept up my spine and spread throughout my body.

It's too cruel.

This is practically putting humanity on the fire.

"This is a dimensional reduction attack."

Old Zhang muttered to himself, the dejection in his eyes vanishing, replaced by a fanatical terror.

"Once this feature is introduced, we can break through WeChat's social network overnight. Users will actively help us build a network of relationships in order to exchange for lucky cards."

"This is social fission."

Lin Che put the pen cap back on.

Click.

A crisp sound rang out in the deathly silence of the night, like the sound of a starting pistol.

"What we need to do is light the fuse and watch it ignite the entire Chinese internet."

Fatty Wang swallowed, feeling his throat go dry.

"Bro, this... is so despicable. But I like it!"

His eyes lit up, as if he could already see the BAT executives looking furious on New Year's Eve.

................

"There's a problem."

Suddenly, CTO Lao Zhou raised his hand.

His face was pale, and he pointed to a line of data on the computer screen, his voice trembling.

"Boss, if we follow your fission model, our QPS (queries per second) will exceed 200,000 at midnight on New Year's Eve."

Two hundred thousand.

For Weiguang Group at present, this is undoubtedly an astronomical figure.

"Our servers can't handle it."

Old Zhou gritted his teeth and spoke this cruel truth.

"Even if we activate all the backup units, they will all melt down the moment the results are announced. At that point, we won't even need BAT (Baidu, Alibaba, Tencent) to block us; we'll just collapse on our own."

this is the truth.

No matter how good the idea is, without computing power, it's nothing but a castle in the air.

All eyes were once again focused on Lin Che.

The flame that had just been lit seemed about to be extinguished by this bucket of cold water.

Lin Che did not look at the data.

He walked to the window and looked at the dark night sky outside, as if fireworks were already blazing there.

"It exploded?"

He gave a cold laugh.

"Then let's go buy it."

He turned around, his tone as calm as if he were talking about buying a cabbage, not hundreds of millions of computing resources.

Contact Alibaba Cloud, contact Tencent Cloud, contact Kingsoft Cloud.

"Rent all the idle servers on the market for me."

Old Zhou's eyes widened, thinking he had misheard.

"Boss, that's a cloud service from BAT (Baidu, Alibaba, Tencent)... Will they sell it to us?"

"The devil will sell his soul for money."

Lin Che took out a black card from his pocket and threw it on the table.

The card spun and slid down to Old Zhou's face.

"Tell Shen Nan that there is no upper limit to the budget."

"If you can't buy it domestically, then buy Amazon's AWS or Microsoft's Azure."

"Even if it means burning the submarine fiber optic cable red-hot, I will ensure that for that one second on New Year's Eve, the server of Weiguang is as solid as a rock."

Lin Che leaned down, placing his hands on the edge of the table, his imposing aura making it hard for Old Zhou to breathe.

Listen.

"This is not just a red envelope war."

"This is a war. In war, there are no costs, only wins and losses."

Old Zhou looked at the black card in front of him and took a deep breath.

He grabbed the card and stood up abruptly.

"Understood."

"I'll contact them right now. Even if it means working in the server room, I'll do everything I can to provide you with the computing power!"

Lin Che nodded and waved.

"Meeting adjourned. Get back to work."

As if given a shot of adrenaline, everyone dispersed instantly and returned to their respective workstations.

The sound of keyboard clicks rang out again.

More urgent and more frantic than before.

Lin Che stood alone in front of the whiteboard, looking at the red "Dedication Blessing".

He reached out and gently stroked the "0.001%".

In its past life, Alipay used this trick to make hundreds of millions of people in China suffer from "card collecting compulsion".

This lifetime.

This card is mine.