Back to 17, My Brother is the Cult Leader

Chapter 106 Loan

"Mr. Fang, we have a guest."

Wu Wenhui was wearing a light blue short-sleeved shirt and dark trousers. His hair was shorter than when we last met, and he looked much more mature than he did two years ago.

He was holding a bulging brown paper envelope, its contents unknown.

"President Fang." Wu Wenhui stood at the door of the conference room and extended his hand.

Fang Yuan shook hands with him and gestured for him to sit down.

This was their second meeting.

The last time was at the symposium of the first Rongshuxia Online Literature Competition, when Wu Wenhui was a senior student in the Computer Science Department of Peking University.

The two exchanged contact information after the meeting.

More than a year has passed, and I have received a few emails from Wu Wenhui, most of which are greetings and some brief questions.

Wu Wenhui gave advance notice of the meeting, saying that he had important matters to discuss in person.

Xiaomei brought in two cups of tea, closed the door, and left.

Wu Wenhui pulled a stack of papers from the envelope—"Qidian.com Business Plan".

"Mr. Fang, there's something I've been thinking about for the past two years."

Wu Wenhui spread the paper on the table. "I thought about what you said at that symposium for a long time afterward."

Fang Yuan picked up his teacup without interrupting him.

"You said at the time that the best way was to write things down well, and that people would naturally come to you once they had written them down."

But I feel that simply waiting is not enough.

Writers need a platform, a platform where they can write with peace of mind and receive rewards.

Last year, a few friends and I created a forum on Xilu BBS called the Chinese Fantasy Literature Association, which brought together a group of authors and readers. However, the forum's functions were too limited; posts would sink and no one would read them, and there was no stable connection between authors and readers.

So we're going to create an independent website. We've already decided on a name: Qidian (Starting Point).

"7

Fang Yuan flipped through the stack of handwritten plans.

Although the page layout is hand-drawn, the section divisions, user paths, author backend, and reader bookshelves are all drawn with great detail.

"What kind of website do you want to make?" Fang Yuan asked.

Wu Wenhui said, "We want to provide a place where everyone who loves online literature can publish, communicate, and grow."

"What about the business model?"

Wu Wenhui was silent for a few seconds. "There's no clear business model yet. We won't charge anything initially; we just need to build up our user base."

Fang Yuan did not respond.

He stopped on the fourth page and asked, "Who's in charge technically?"

"Me and Shang Xuesong. He's a programmer, and so am I."

Wu Wenhui said, "We work during the day and write code at night. We're temporarily renting virtual hosting for the server, which isn't expensive. The domain name has already been registered."

"7

Fang Yuan closed the plan and placed it on the table.

You know better than I do how fast the Chinese internet is developing.

It only takes three years to grow a user base from hundreds of thousands to millions to tens of millions.

Fang Yuan's voice was soft, and his tone was flat.

"Currently, online literature platforms are all free, so no one will invest too much in operating costs."

However, once a certain critical point is reached, the shortcomings of the free model will be exposed: authors without a stable income will stop writing after a while.

Readers keep following the story, then the engagement ends; platforms can't retain users, and good authors and good works struggle to gain recognition and lasting impact.

Wu Wenhui glanced at Fang Yuan.

"You mean, there's a charge?"

"The timing isn't right yet. The user base isn't large enough, and the payment channels aren't perfect. But we can prepare the technology in advance, instead of starting to build the framework when we need it. You're a computer science student, so you should understand this better than I do."

In 2002, there was no mature online payment environment; there was no Alipay or WeChat Pay.

Readers who want to pay can only do so through bank transfers, postal remittances, or mobile phone recharge cards, which is a cumbersome process that most users do not have the patience to complete.

The inconvenience of online payment is an external constraint that prevents the paid reading model from becoming viable.

Wu Wenhui's pen paused on the paper for a moment.

"I'm confident in the technical aspects. Shang Xuesong has a better grasp of databases and backend architecture than I do. We are prepared for this."

What's your current job?

"I worked at Founder Group for over a year, and I just resigned last month."

Wu Wenhui said this in a very natural tone, as if resigning was something he had thought about long ago.

Fang Yuan glanced at him.

"How will you eat if you quit your jobs? The website has no income in the early stages, how long can you guys hold on?"

Wu Wenhui picked up his teacup, took a sip, and did not answer immediately.

His fingers lingered on the rim of the glass for a few seconds before he spoke.

"Lin Tingfeng works at the vehicle management office, Hou Qingchen works at the newspaper, and Luo Li works at the magazine. Everyone has a job, and the website work is done after get off work. Their salaries are enough to support themselves, and the server rental costs are split among several people, so they can manage for now."

Fang Yuan knew the people he was referring to: Lin Tingfeng (Sword Edge), Hou Qingchen (The One Who Understands), and Luo Li (Dark Left Hand).

Shang Xuesong (Zangjian Jiangnan) and Zheng Hongbo (Ant No. 5).

He knew the resumes of these five people clearly, and he knew their later roles and development trajectories.

He picked up the proposal and flipped through it again, turning to the last page.

"How will the shares be divided among the six of you?"

Wu Wenhui said there hasn't been an official division of labor yet. Everyone is doing it out of interest, and no agreements have been signed.

He paused, tapped his finger on the paper, and then withdrew it.

"We'll definitely have to decide on the details later, but let's get the website up and running first."

Fang Yuan put the proposal back on the table. He paused briefly, glancing at Wu Wenhui across from him.

"You guys continue with the technical aspects. As for the start-up capital, I can advance some money first."

Wu Wenhui raised his head.

Fang Yuan continued, "This money won't be considered equity; it'll be a loan. The interest will be calculated based on the bank's loan rate for the same period. We'll discuss further details once you have a clear business direction and financing needs."

He picked up his teacup and took a sip; the tea had already gone cold.

"Investing money is the easiest thing, but investing in the right direction and allocating resources is difficult. There's no rush to finalize all the terms today. I'll have Li Xinyu discuss it with you in detail next week to clarify the legal and financial structure in advance, so we don't have to redo it later."

Wu Wenhui listened attentively, nodded, and wrote it down in his notebook.

"Mr. Fang, no matter what the future holds, I will definitely continue to do this."

Wu Wenhui closed his notebook, his tone firm.

Fang Yuan stood up. "Once it's decided, do it. Go back and tell Shang Xuesong and the others to launch the website as soon as possible."

After Wu Wenhui left, Fang Yuan sat in the conference room for a while.

How long can a 25-year-old programmer maintain this lifestyle—working during the day, coding at night, and having online meetings with friends on weekends?

He closed the proposal and called Xiaomei in.

"Have Li Xinyu meet with Wu Wenhui next week. Clarify the terms regarding the loan agreement, the use of funds, and the transparency of accounting."

Additionally, have the company's legal department review the founding team's equity structure beforehand to avoid future disputes. They haven't signed an agreement yet, but there need to be clear rules governing the collaboration between founders.

If you don't vie for power and profit in the initial stages, there's no guarantee you won't have other ideas later. This is something you can do upfront.

Xiaomei wrote it down in her notebook.

"Regarding the technical team and server costs mentioned by Wu Wenhui, is there a budget ceiling for us?"

"We'll prepare one million for the first time. That'll be enough for them to rent servers, buy bandwidth, and last for a year. We'll deal with any further shortages later."