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

The screenshot showing 100,000 items being cleared in seven seconds was posted on Weibo at 00:01.

The person who posted it is called "Digital Old Wang Review," a small account with less than 20,000 followers. It usually posts reviews of phone cases and power banks, and its most popular post has never exceeded 3,000 views.

The accompanying image on this Weibo post is a screenshot from the live stream—he captured four screenshots of the inventory dropping from 100000 to 0, and then stitched them together. The last image shows an inventory number of "0", and the timestamp in the upper right corner is seven seconds different from the first image.

The caption was simple: "??? What's going on???"

At 12:03, the number of reposts exceeded 500.

At 00:05, it broke 3,000.

At 00:08, 12,000.

No one promoted this Weibo post, no influential figures retweeted it, and no marketing accounts stirred up trouble; it just grew on its own, like a drop of ink falling into water and spreading in all directions.

Because every single comment was asking the same question: "Really?"

Then someone posted a screenshot of their order—9.9 yuan, free shipping, Weiguang Mall, order status: shipped.

Really.

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This Weibo post climbed to fourth place on the trending topics list at 12:15 AM.

Ahead of it are #Double12GrandPromotionOpeningSuccess#, #TaobaoBreaks10BillionRMBInOneMinute#, and #JD.comHomeAppliance50%Off#.

Following it is #Microlight Capital Chain Broken#.

Two completely opposite trending topics: one saying Weiguang is going to die, and the other saying Weiguang just sold 100,000 units.

They stood side by side, like two parallel universes hurling insults at each other.

In the live stream, Lin Che had already delivered the second batch of goods.

Black hoodies, same style but different colors, 100,000 pieces, 9.9 yuan.

"Link above."

Seven seconds again.

Zero.

The number of online users increased from 140,000 to 280,000.

The third batch, navy blue, 100,000 pieces.

"Link above."

Eleven seconds. It was a little slow because there were too many people online at the same time, causing a brief server lag. Some people took screenshots saying they had to click three times to get a spot.

370,000 online.

The style of the bullet comments has completely changed.

No one is laughing at me anymore.

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"Nine dollars and ninety cents! It really is only nine dollars and ninety cents! I just received the shipping notification!"

"This fabric is really good. I checked the product details page; it's 280-karat cotton. The same fabric from Uniqlo costs at least 79 yuan."

"Brothers, come quick! Is this livestream room crazy?"

Share this! Everyone should see this!

Traffic is exponentially increasing.

It's not addition, it's multiplication.

The link to Weiguang's live stream was posted in WeChat groups, QQ groups, Baidu Tieba, Hupu, Douban, Zhihu—people were forwarding it everywhere a link could be posted.

My WeChat Moments feed started flooded with posts in almost the same format: "Believe it or not, go watch this live stream! A hoodie for only 9.9 yuan with free shipping! I've already snagged one!"

450,000 online.

620,000.

810,000.

The number of online users is like a vertical line that keeps going up, showing no signs of slowing down.

But here is the problem.

When Lin Che was loading the fourth batch of goods, a new type of content started appearing in the live chat.

I managed to snag the item, but I can't pay!!!

"Insufficient balance! I only have 3.4 yuan left in my bank card!"

"I'm doomed, guys, I've paid the full deposit, and I'm out of money in my account."

"I've run out of credit on Alipay and JD Pay Later, I've used it all up tonight."

more and more.

The barrage of comments changed from "frenzied buying" to "frenzied wailing".

"Mr. Lin!! I can't even afford 9.9 yuan!! I paid a 1200 yuan deposit on Taobao tonight!!"

"Someone help me! I want to buy it, but I really don't have a single penny left."

"I only have 2.7 yuan left, I'm 7.2 yuan short, can anyone lend me some?"

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The problem occurred three hours ago.

BAT's pre-sale red envelopes and deposit system have completely drained users' money—those who have paid deposits dare not get them back because deposits are non-refundable; those who have received red envelopes have already linked their purchases to products, and their balances have been used up; the credit limits of Alipay's Huabei and JD.com's Baitiao have been released tonight to pay the final payment for various bundled orders.

By midnight, these users had empty pockets.

Completely empty.

They have the desire to buy, and there's a link for 9.9 yuan with free shipping in front of them, but they can't afford it.

I can't even afford 9.9 yuan.

The scene was so absurd that it made you want to laugh, but you couldn't.

The live stream had 930,000 viewers, and the chat was filled with variations of the same phrase: "Want to buy, but no money."

Xie Yu stood at the door of the storage room, looking at the two diametrically opposed curves on the back-end data panel—the number of online users was soaring, while the transaction volume was stagnating.

Traffic has come, but it can't be monetized.

Because the user's money is locked up.

He glanced at Lin Che's retreating figure.

Lin Che was still standing in front of the camera, holding the fourth batch of goods in his hand—a burgundy sweatshirt.

He was reading the comments section very carefully, his lips expressionless.

The comments section is filled with tears.

"Mr. Lin, please give me a discount. I really can't come up with nine yuan and ninety cents."

"I'll show you a screenshot of my Alipay balance of 72 cents, do you believe me?"

"Waaaaah, I really want to buy it, but I really don't have any money."

1.03 million online.

Lin Che put down the burgundy hoodie.

He did not access the link.

He faced the camera, said nothing, and just stood there for about three seconds.

Three seconds is a long time in a live broadcast.

The comments kept flooding the screen, until the person was no longer visible; it was all text and wailing.

Then he raised his right hand.

With a light flick of the finger.

Snap of fingers.

The sound was crisp; the microphone was retracted, and 1.03 million people in the live stream heard it.

The comments section paused for a moment.

It didn't really stop; it just slowed down the scrolling speed because everyone was waiting for him to speak.

Lin Che spoke up.

His voice wasn't loud, and he spoke much slower than before, as if he were asking a genuine question.

No money?

The live chat exploded again.

"Yeah, I don't have any money!"

Not a single penny!

"You'd better think of a solution, Mr. Lin!"

Lin Che looked at the camera, his right hand fingers still in the position after snapping.

"Who said you can buy things in Weiguang—"

He paused for a moment.

"Do you need money?"

The live stream, which had 1.03 million viewers, fell silent.

It's not that the live chat stopped.

Everyone's fingers stopped at the top of the screen at the same time.

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