Chapter 25: Fishing with a Straight Hook

Back in Qiantang, Gu Cheng remained at a standstill regarding his efforts to push China Unicom to adopt the full-feature version of CDMA.

Every day was spent practicing singing and preparing for his upcoming concert. He had his secretary polish the speech he was to deliver, read it over several times himself, and then provided some strategic planning advice for the "YY" and "Tieba" products that Lei Jun had just begun developing.

The tasks were fragmented, yet he felt fulfilled.

As another week drew to a close, he realized that perhaps this matter would truly have to wait until after the concert.

Gu Cheng’s final hope was that Unicom would not immediately purchase the castrated, obsolete base stations after signing the contract. Even if the towers were already erected, as long as the base stations hadn’t been bought or installed, there was still a chance to sign a supplementary agreement and switch to the full-feature version with SK Telecom.

By his calculations, he still had a little time.

One day, just as Gu Cheng was preparing to leave work early to practice his singing at home, his cousin called him into her office and showed him an invitation.

Gu Cheng casually took it and glanced at it: "Provincial Young Entrepreneurs Symposium? What is this?"

"It’s hosted by the provincial government. Are you going, or am I?" Pan Jieying didn't waste words; she always got straight to the point with her cousin.

Since Pan Jieying was listed as the legal representative and possessed a dignified, professional image—all while pursuing an MBA at Qianjiang University—she had attended most government functions on behalf of Chengpin Holdings.

It wasn't that Gu Cheng wasn't handsome, but his image was somewhat frivolous, known to the world primarily as an entertainer, which lacked a certain gravitas. Furthermore, in 2002, government events placed significant weight on academic and professional credentials. Gu Cheng’s status as a high school dropout was enough to keep him exempt from such events for years.

However, Pan Jieying knew that Gu Cheng was currently trying every possible way to cultivate government relations, so she asked him about it this time.

Gu Cheng was indeed interested and pressed for details: "How did this event come about? Is there a story behind it?"

Pan Jieying had clearly done her homework: "This is a transition year. After the meetings in Beijing concluded in March, a new Deputy Secretary and Acting Governor with the surname Qi arrived in the province last month. He likely wants to better understand the local economic development and is looking to chat with figures from the economic sector about growth points during the internet winter. Aside from entrepreneur representatives, there will be some academic figures—even my mentor is required to attend."

The person Pan Jieying referred to was, naturally, her MBA mentor at Qianjiang University.

She felt awkward about attending herself, fearing that it might lower the stature of Chengpin Holdings in terms of protocol, or conversely, that failing to show proper etiquette might seem disrespectful to her teacher.

Gu Cheng’s eyes lit up; he felt this was a channel worth exploring. He knew the future career path of Secretary Qi—one term as provincial secretary, one term at the vice-national level, and then ten years as the national leader.

Someone like that, even at the provincial secretary stage, surely had connections in the central government and carried weight. Things that were truly beneficial to the country and the people might be brought to the attention of the highest levels through such a channel.

He decided to attend the meeting and take the opportunity to state his case.

Pan Jieying, unaware that Gu Cheng was indulging in wishful thinking, assumed he didn't understand the situation and proceeded to analyze it for him:

"Don't underestimate Secretary Qi. When the governor position opened up last month, protocol dictated he should have been directly appointed as Deputy Secretary and Governor. The fact that he was only given the title of 'Acting Governor' suggests his path won't end there. Secretary Zhang has already served one term and is expected to move on in a few months; when that happens, Secretary Qi will be the top leader."

Although the roles of governor and secretary are technically on the same level, many officials spend four or five years crossing that threshold. For some to cross it in a matter of months serves as proof that their political future is far beyond that of an average provincial official.

"I understand, of course I understand," Gu Cheng said, cutting off Pan Jieying’s lesson. He agreed readily, "Cousin, don't think I lack political common sense. I will definitely go to this meeting. Thanks, you’re always the best to me."

After saying this, Gu Cheng kissed Pan Jieying on the cheek and dashed off with the invitation.

Pan Jieying blushed and scolded him with a laugh: "Come back! You’re attending a government symposium in the country, not in Silicon Valley. Are you going to wear that tomorrow? At least tidy yourself up. Even the costume you wore when playing Jin Yanxi was more appropriate than this."

Gu Cheng looked at his usual casual attire, felt a moment of embarrassment, and then cheekily teased, "I’m a big celebrity now; I can’t just go shopping on the street. Why don't you handle it for me, cousin?"

...

The next day, Gu Cheng dressed neatly in the suit his cousin had bought and arrived at the provincial government office on time with his invitation.

He had woken up late and was well-rested, as his apartment at the Baima complex was located right next to the provincial government office, so there was no need to rush.

It was a rare social occasion where Gu Cheng didn't need to hide behind sunglasses; the people here were either wealthy businessmen or scholars, seemingly insulated from the world of obsessive fan culture.

Many of them were, at this time, even insulated from the internet—entirely unaware of any major events occurring online.

This was not surprising, as it was only 2002. Even someone like Zhang Ruimin, two years later, would still need to go on a variety show to "give Ma Teng five minutes to persuade you to let Haier employees communicate about work issues via QQ."

Although Gu Cheng had a net worth of several hundred million (excluding the loans from Sun Zhengji) and a modest reputation in the internet circle, those private industrialists with billions or tens of billions still dismissed those working in the internet and content industries as "engaging in the frivolous virtual economy."

Gu Cheng didn't feel discouraged; on the contrary, he enjoyed the peace. After entering, he found his seat with his name tag, didn't bother exchanging business cards with those around him, and sat quietly to listen.

"Secretary Qi is arriving." A female secretary opened the door and whispered a reminder; the conversations in the room died down one by one.

Then, the secretary stepped aside, and a plump man in his forties with squinting eyes walked in with an air of composure.

Everyone at the symposium stood up to pay their respects before sitting down again.

Secretary Qi spent two or three minutes delivering an opening statement, which amounted to nothing more than: "I’ve called you all here today hoping to clarify the government’s guiding ideology for economic management in the next phase. If you have any good ideas, opinions, or growth points, feel free to speak your mind."

Then, it was time for everyone to speak. Several officials from the Department of Commerce and various association presidents had clearly rehearsed, reeling off a long, tedious list of platitudes.

Combined, they spoke ten times longer than Secretary Qi’s opening, making people yawn.

As a new official, Secretary Qi clearly found that his subordinates didn't yet understand his temperament. Finally, he couldn't help but interject: "Let’s keep it brief today. There’s no need to recount ancient history; let’s talk about something constructive. Leave more time for the representatives from the business and academic circles."

Those association leaders, who usually sold membership slots, finally reined themselves in.

Then, several business representatives spoke concisely, offering a few suggestions on simplifying administration and decentralizing power in certain sectors, or clarifying the status of private capital entry.

For instance, one real estate developer suggested accelerating land transfer cycles and reducing certain approval processes, patting his chest and declaring it would certainly boost the infrastructure construction supply chain.

Gu Cheng fully believed the man’s proposal would indeed stimulate economic growth, though it would also cause housing prices to skyrocket.

Once these points were made, the atmosphere went cold. Those who weren't spouting empty jargon were asking for policy favors—two extremes.

The meeting moderator, the same female secretary from earlier, saw the meeting falling flat and hurriedly scanned the "academic authorities" with a pleading look, hoping a smooth-talker would come to the rescue.

The preparation for today had been insufficient; no one expected the new Secretary Qi to be so pragmatic and unwilling to listen to nonsense.

An old professor, after letting the tension build, finally stood up to save the day.

The moderator breathed a sigh of relief and quickly flattered him: "I’m sure Professor Wu has some profound insights today. Who doesn't know that Professor Wu is a top expert in macroeconomic research at Qianjiang University, a Changjiang Scholar, and a recipient of the State Council Special Allowance..."

"That's enough, no need for introductions. Let’s keep it casual today," Secretary Qi interrupted, ordering them to get straight to the point.

Seeing how high-profile he was, Gu Cheng and other newcomers in the industry pricked up their ears, ready to listen to his high-minded advice.

Professor Wu, refreshed and enjoying the prestige of being "sought out," began his standard lecture on macroeconomics.

"The current macroeconomic situation is quite grim. Since the 1998 Southeast Asian financial crisis, our country's exports have suffered a blow from which we have yet to recover. At the time, the state promised not to devalue the RMB, yet many Southeast Asian trade partners defaulted in large numbers, and many export enterprises fell into a trap of triangular debt that has yet to be eased. Our Wuyue Province is among the top three in the country in terms of export-oriented economic development, so the impact has been particularly severe.

"Following the Southeast Asian financial crisis, the next severe situation was the bursting of the internet bubble. There are quite a few internet startups in our province with significant scale and weight. Even though some Zhejiang merchants didn't open their internet companies within the province—like Ding Sanshi’s NetEase or Chen Tianqiao’s Shanda—the dilemmas they face will similarly have an impact on the vibrancy of our provincial economy.

"The cause of the internet winter is the hollowness and bubble-blowing of the virtual economy. In reality, the internet industry has no real profit points; it’s ultimately just losing money to gain attention. When money is being given away, no matter how loud the users cheer or how many people crowd around to watch, once you actually try to collect money from them, they will run away and go back to spending in the traditional real economy. Thus, this bubble cannot be cured for many years to come..."

By the end, Professor Wu’s old-fashioned arguments boiled down to two points:

The current economic situation is bad because of the two crises from two and four years ago. The internet is just a fraudulent virtual economy, so that bubble bursting was inevitable. The focus of current economic recovery should be on resolving the legacy issues from four years ago.

As for how to solve them, it was nothing more than discussing "how to bypass supervision under new circumstances to continue subsidizing export companies in various ways, and how to restrict imports and set up barriers."

Professor Wu actually had some substance in this area, especially since China had only joined the WTO last year, and many export-stimulus methods used in the old era were now restricted by new international treaties. As a macro-economist, Professor Wu’s expertise was perfectly suited to teach Secretary Qi and the other business owners "how to continue expanding exports in the new era."

The stature of a Changjiang Scholar was on full display.

Gu Cheng didn't know much else, and he wasn't about to argue recklessly, but watching the old professor talk on and on about how "the internet is just a virtual economy with no profit model," he couldn't help but want to laugh.

He really was daring enough to say anything.

But since the leader showed no dissatisfaction, Gu Cheng didn't intend to stick his neck out.

Everyone present either kept silent or echoed Professor Wu’s sentiments; it was a mutual back-scratching affair.

The scene was harmonious, yet Secretary Qi’s expression was less than pleased.