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

Hangzhou, June 2013.

The air was already filled with the humid heat of the pre-rainy season.

HRG office, third floor of Huaxing Times Square.

The HRG across the street is called Sister Zhang.

The orange name tag around his neck was heavy, covered with commemorative badges for the "Double Eleven Campaign" and "Iron Army Culture".

Leaning forward, the metal badges clinked together, making a soft, tinkling sound.

"Lin Che, President Xiao thinks highly of you and has specially approved your P7 rank."

Sister Zhang pushed over a sheet of A4 paper.

The clauses were densely packed, with a bright red oval official seal stamped in the lower right corner, so red it was almost glaring.

"According to P7 standards, your salary structure is cash plus stock options. The stock options will vest over four years. There are no options in the first year, and 50% will vest after two years."

His fingers, painted with crimson nail polish, traced the terms, his tone carrying the sacredness of a preacher.

"At Alibaba, stock options are the real deal. You have to believe in the future value of these few pieces of paper. It's not just about money, but also about the company's recognition of your status as an 'owner' of the company."

Lin Che looked down at the offer.

In everyone's eyes, this is a golden ticket to financial freedom.

If you can hold out for two years, the stock options can be converted into millions of dollars in cash after the company goes public on the US stock market.

But he didn't want to endure it.

He came here to be a hunter, not a believer.

"Sister Zhang, I don't want stock options."

The voice was very soft, yet it pierced the sacred atmosphere like a needle.

Sister Zhang froze, her finger hovering in mid-air.

The calculator beside me is old and worn, with the keys and numbers worn and illegible.

"What did you say?"

"I don't want to wait four years."

Lin Che gently pushed the offer back.

"I want to convert these options into cash as a one-time signing fee. As long as the money is in place, it doesn't matter if I don't take the options."

Sister Zhang frowned, as if looking at a monster.

"Lin Che, do you even know what you're saying? The company is about to go public, and to give up stock options for cash at this time is simply..."

"Buying the box and returning the pearl, right?" Lin Che chimed in.

I know exactly what Sister Zhang wants to say.

But he knew all too well how many uncertainties lay ahead during those two years of waiting.

What's needed now are bullets that can be used immediately.

"I'm a very materialistic person; I only care about having money in my pocket. I'm short on cash since I just returned to China and need a settling-in allowance."

He doesn't even blink when he lies.

Sister Zhang stared at him for a long time, trying to find regret or hesitation on the young man's face.

All I saw was a still, stagnant pool.

Finally, he sighed, picked up the worn-out calculator, and pressed the reset button repeatedly.

"Without stock options, based on the current valuation... I can only apply for a pre-tax signing fee of about 20 yuan, which is a huge loss."

"20 it is." Lin Che didn't hesitate. "As long as it's a one-time payment, I'll sign."

Sister Zhang shook her head, her eyes conveying the sentiment that "young people these days are so short-sighted."

Watching her revise the terms and conditions and reprint them.

When the bright red official seal was stamped again on the line "Signing fee: 200,000.00 CNY", I felt relieved.

HRG thought he was selling off his future at a loss.

Little did they know that this 200,000 yuan in cash would be the first lever to unlock Alibaba's 1 billion yuan budget.

.......

In the west of the city, there is an open-air barbecue stall in Laoyuhang.

The plastic windbreak smelled of cheap charcoal mixed with cumin.

Bamboo skewers were scattered all over the ground, some of them stained with solidified red oil.

Fatty Wang sat at a wobbly folding table, clutching a green Snowflake beer bottle covered in condensation.

The whole person looked like a moldy lump of dough.

His hair was greasy and stuck to his forehead, and his T-shirt with the GG logo was soaked with sweat.

"Brother Che, I really can't take it anymore."

Fatty Wang gulped down a mouthful of wine, his voice trembling with tears.

"That bastard from the client revised the plan eight times, and finally told me that the budget had been cut. The landlord came to collect the rent again yesterday. If we don't pay soon, we'll have to sleep on the streets."

On the table sat a plate of charred chives, sprinkled with cheap, dark red chili powder.

Lin Che remained silent and listened quietly.

Wang Pangzi was my best friend from college.

He has no talent or great ability in business, but he has one major advantage: he is tight-lipped and stubborn.

It's hard to find a smart person in the world who would entrust their life to you, but it's even harder to find an absolutely obedient and honest person.

"Fatty, just shut down that lousy company of yours."

He pulled the still-scented offer letter from his briefcase and slapped it onto the greasy table.

"Huh?" Fatty Wang was stunned for a moment, almost spilling his drink. "Cancelled the service? Are you going to starve?"

I lowered my head and, using the dim light, managed to read the words on the document.

Alibaba, P7 technical expert, annual salary...

The fat man's eyes widened instantly, and he forgot to swallow the beer in his mouth.

"Holy crap! Che-ge, you... got into Alibaba? P7? That must be a million-dollar salary a year, right?"

"This is mine," Lin Che said, withdrawing the offer. "But I have a business deal that's yours."

Fatty Wang looked completely bewildered: "What kind of business?"

"I want you to cancel your current company and register a new one. I've already thought of a name for it: 'Weiguang Interactive'."

Lin Che picked up a charred leek with his chopsticks, but didn't eat it; he just twirled it in his hand.

"This company doesn't have to do anything; it only has one task: to collect money for me."

Fatty Wang let out a burp, his eyes glazing over: "Whose money are you taking?"

"Alibaba's money."

Lin Che took out a napkin and laid it on the oil-stained table.

Take out a ballpoint pen and draw a simple structure on the paper.

The paper was too thin, and the pen tip tore through the paper, leaving several dark blue ink marks.

"In a few days, I will receive a signing fee of 20 yuan, which I will transfer to you in full as start-up capital."

The sound was very low, drowned out by the surrounding noise of people playing drinking games.

"You should use this money to buy a batch of 'dormant accounts' on the market—Weibo accounts and social media accounts that have been registered for a long time but haven't been used much—or find the black market and buy a script that can automatically post updates."

Fatty Wang's hands trembled as he listened.

The smoke burned down to the filter tip, and the pungent smell of burnt sponge filled the air.

"Brother Che, why are you buying all this?"

Lin Che took out his phone and turned on the screen.

A rudimentary app launch screen – the beta version of "Laiwang".

"I was in charge of traffic procurement for 'Laiwang' at Alibaba."

Pointing to the arrow on the napkin, it went from "Alibaba" to "Weiguang Interactive," and then to the offshore account.

"If the company needs users, we provide 'users'; if the company needs activity, we provide 'activity'."

"As long as the data looks good, no one cares whether these users are real people or scripts."

Fatty Wang finally realized what was happening, his face turning deathly pale amidst the swirling smoke.

"This...isn't this faking it? Brother Che, if we get caught, we'll go to jail, right?"

Lin Che looked into the fat man's terrified eyes, his gaze remaining completely unmoved.

"Fatty, the company pays for the traffic, we provide the traffic. The contract says 'technical service,' and the acceptance standard is 'daily active user data.' Every single piece of our data works perfectly. Where is the fraud?"

"This is called... a quality defect."

I crumpled the napkin with the architectural diagram on it into a ball and threw it into the trash can at my feet.

"Are you in or not? If not, you can stay here drinking Snow Beer and wait for the landlord to kick you out."

Fatty Wang looked at the crumpled paper in the trash can, then at the cheap beer in his hand.

A few seconds later, he stubbed out the cigarette butt hard on the plate full of ash.

"Damn it!" the fat man gritted his teeth. "As long as I don't go in, whatever you say, Brother Che, goes! I've had enough of this lousy life!"

Lin Che picked up his wine glass and clinked it against the fat man's bottle.

"Don't be afraid, there's still a long time until Ali discovers we've drained its blood."

The sound of glass colliding is crisp and pleasant.

That's the sound of capital flowing.