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

On Monday morning, the printer spit out the last page.

The paper, warm and static-filled, adhered to the back of Lin Che's hand.

The title is in bold: "Strategic Cooperation Agreement on Introducing a Third-Party Vertical Traffic Matrix".

Lin Che took the stack of papers and walked to the administrative department's workstation.

Xiao Zhang, who is in charge of supplier warehousing, was applying hand cream. When he saw someone coming, he took out a tissue to wipe his hands and took the application form.

My gaze swept over the four characters "Weiguang Media" and stopped.

"Manager Lin, this company is not in the annual supplier database."

Xiao Zhang placed the form on the table and tapped the "Purchase Amount" column, which was blank. "Moreover, according to the financial red line, non-standard purchases exceeding 500,000 yuan require price comparison from three companies and a bidding process. If you directly apply for entry into the warehouse, I can't explain it to the audit department."

Several colleagues who were filling out expense reports looked up and glanced in their direction.

Lin Che did not speak.

He pulled a photocopy out of the folder and gently pushed it over.

The sharp edges of the photocopy pressed down on the white application form.

In the very center of the paper was a bright red seal, below which was the signature of Lao Xiao, the head of the wireless business unit.

The document header read: "Special Case Handled."

"This is the decision made at last night's executive meeting."

Lin Che's voice wasn't loud, just loud enough for those around him to hear: "During the 'Laiwang' promotion campaign, all channels involved in traffic acquisition will be exempt from the regular access process, all for the sake of winning the battle."

Xiao Zhang stared at the red stamp.

The survival rule of administration is simple: fear of violating regulations, and even more fear of delaying the big boss's strategy. Violating regulations results in punishment, while delaying the strategy results in layoffs.

"Then... how do we fill in the contract amount?" Xiao Zhang picked up the company seal and held it in mid-air.

"Pay-per-performance, with no upper limit."

Lin Che looked at the red inkpad. "These are Lao Xiao's exact words."

"Smack."

The official seal was affixed.

Lin Che put away the documents and turned to leave.

Behind him, Manager Wang from the next group was yelling into the phone, begging his college classmate to help him register an account.

His voice was hoarse, revealing a desperate anxiety.

Lin Che didn't stop walking, his fingers tracing the still-dry ink on the document.

A funding channel worth tens of millions has been established.

During lunch break, the overhead lights in the office area were turned off.

The blinds weren't fully closed, and a pale white beam of light sliced ​​across Lin Che's Enter key on his keyboard.

All around were the sounds of breathing and the soft creaking of the hard bed.

Lin Che did not sleep.

He was wearing headphones, his fingers flying across his personal notebook.

Instead of the company's standard Java code, the screen displayed a crude HTML page. The color scheme was bright red and green, and the buttons had that embossed style popular a decade ago, making it look like a cheap phishing website.

"Price Comparison Assistant Across the Entire Internet"

This is the "Trojan Horse" worth millions.

"Hey, Che-ge, aren't you asleep yet?"

Da Liu, who works at the next desk, woke up, holding a half-finished carton of yogurt in his hand.

The straw was bitten flat, and he took a big gulp, making a hollow "glug" sound.

Da Liu leaned closer, squinted at the screen, and frowned deeply.

"What is this? Which township enterprise did this outsourcing for?"

Liu pointed to the huge "One-Click Price Comparison" button and said, "This UI is so ugly. It would be considered outdated even in 2000. We're Alibaba, after all. If we release something like this, our P9s will probably curse us to death."

"A plugin for external channels."

Lin Che's hands didn't stop; the cursor jumped between lines of code, "The uglier the better."

"Huh?" Da Liu threw the empty yogurt container into the trash can. "What kind of logic is that?"

"It's too exquisite, like an official product. If it were uglier, it would look like some kind of 'high-tech' work done by a third-party amateur crew."

Lin Che deleted a line of code.

That line of code is: // TODO: Hide rebate logic from audit interface.

This kind of thing can't be left in the notes; it can only be kept in your mind.

"I don't understand you strategists."

Da Liu shook his head, yawned, turned over and went back to sleep. "As long as Li Mo and his auditing gang don't see it, it'll be fine. Those guys have been like mad dogs lately, sniffing out our expense reports."

Lin Che closed the code window.

The screen went black, revealing his expressionless face.

Li Mo will definitely see it.

But by the time he understood, the soldiers inside the Trojan horse had already opened the city gates.

At 10 p.m., the wind along the Qiantang River was a bit strong.

Lin Che returned to his rented room.

The lights were off in the room, only the computer screen emitted a cold glow.

On the table sat a glass of cold tea, the tea leaves standing upright at the bottom, motionless.

He opened a QQ group that had been dormant for a long time.

The group name is simple: [All-Network Wool Party Headquarters (2000 people full)].

This is the sewer of the internet world, and also the underground river with the most turbulent flow.

The people here don't care about social experience or the aesthetics of the interface; they only care about two things: making money.

Lin Che logged into a new account named "This user has been deleted".

He included a link to "All-Network Price Comparison Assistant" along with a photoshopped screenshot of earnings.

Just one sentence:

"A new vulnerability has been discovered at Alibaba, leaking internal interfaces. Get 50% cashback on purchases. Hurry and grab it before it's gone."

Press Enter.

Two seconds of deathly silence.

Immediately afterwards, a series of rapid "beep beep" sounds burst from the speaker.

The sound grew louder and more urgent, like a lit firecracker being thrown into a septic tank. The message list scrolled wildly, the words illegible, filled only with greedy symbols.

"Holy crap? Really?"

"Tested! It really reverted! This must be a bug, right?"

"Brothers, let's go! Let's bankrupt Jack Ma!"

"Share this! Share it now! Don't let the technology fix it!"

Lin Che did not check the group messages.

He switched to the background monitoring interface.

The curve representing "new users" had been a lifeless straight line for the past hour.

Right in this very second.

The straight line suddenly broke, and at an almost vertical angle, it was pulled upwards frantically.

Like a needle piercing the sky.

The server load warning light started flashing red.

Lin Che picked up the cup of cold tea and took a sip. The tea was bitter, flowing down his throat into his stomach.

This is human nature.

You say "Laiwang" is a better social networking app, but nobody pays attention to you.

If you say there's a vulnerability in Alibaba that allows you to make money, half of China will help you spread the word.

Binjiang Industrial Park, Compliance Department.

Li Mo is still working overtime.

As the supervisor of this campaign, he held the company's entire data dashboard in his hands.

On the screen, the promotion data for each department is slowly climbing.

Those were the "attentions" that thousands of employees earned with their dignity.

Suddenly, the lower right corner of the dial flickered.

A gray data cable, which was originally lying at the bottom, suddenly started to spike in value as if it had taken some kind of drug.

Source indicated: Unknown channel.

Li Mo stopped twirling his pen and frowned.

"Check this interface."

He grabbed the internal phone, his voice icy, "This data doesn't seem real."