Chapter 844: Chapter 352 Doomed? I Don’t Care If You Die_2

The early preparations and setups were already sufficient, and the villa specially renovated for her was ready for move-in. Now it was time for the team to shine.

In her videos, she had two “homes” in total.

One was her friend’s home–a place that wasn’t entirely free but was good for chitchatting.

The other was her own home–a quiet villa where she lived alone, with just a nanny, a chef, and a dog.

In reality, aside from shooting videos, she rarely stayed in that rented villa.

Even though it was more modern, more stylish, and had an aesthetic appeal, the house was filled with “garish trendy little consumerist items for women” procured by Liu Zhongliang.

Things like smiley hug pears, tulip nightlights, sandalwood diffusers, massage brushes, magnetic floating perpetual calendars, 55degC thermostatic Nuannuan cups…

When Su Huai saw it all, his brain went buzzing.

Her home had about a thousand kinds of inexplicable little gadgets, little furniture items, small appliances, some costing a couple hundred bucks, others thousands, all absurdly cute. Collectively costing millions–nuts, right?

Who the hell ends up with a girlfriend like this? He busts his ass to buy her a gift, only to find out it’s less expensive and “less interesting” than some random trinket she has lying around–truly unlucky.

Wait? She’s not my girlfriend? She’s my product endorsement vlogger?

Never mind then.

Fellas, good luck to you. I’m here to make big money.

So, Quanquan started living her “dream life,” where she’d cruise around in the pink Rolls-Royce gifted by Gu Jiuyue, happily filming videos wherever she went.

Once the videos were completed, they’d be simultaneously posted on Weibo, Douyin, Kuaishou, Bilibili, and RedNote. After all, she owned accounts on all of these platforms–followers grew no matter where they found her.

After the initial branding phase, fans had already assumed she was a bona fide super-rich beauty, so the reception was pretty good.

Thus, Xingyu’s brand department officially launched its first registered product: the smiley hug pear, which soon went viral.

Produced by a Jingdezhen ceramics factory, the craftsmanship was flawless, the design was meticulous and cute, with a production cost of 8 RMB per pair. The retail price, however, was 198 RMB, selling 68,000 units in the first month alone.

Gu Jiuyue had placed a pair of light-pink ones inside the Phantom that Su Huai often sat in, with a diffuser box hugged in the middle. Every time he sat in the car, the overwhelming fragrance nearly made him gag.

Damn, unbearable.

…

The third major task was preparing to launch the streaming software internationally.

Xingyu had always had a platform division, but during the spring recruitment season, they brought in two senior development engineers–one even secretly carried over Gou Star’s foundational platform code… cough cough.

Anyway, Xingyu’s proprietary live-streaming app was in development, and the optimization was coming along quite nicely.

This stuff made zero sense to deploy domestically–it had to go overseas.

With the Middle East market in their sights, modifications had to be made based on that region’s context. Arab students, Huaxia businessmen over there, local partners, tycoons… Xingyu reached out to everyone they could find.

The software development was almost done, but questions remained on how to launch it there and bring in streamers and viewers–the answers were still up in the air.

Su Huai genuinely didn’t have the bandwidth, so he dumped the task on Fu Yu.

“You go. Handle the preliminary preparations, set up a branch company there. If you do well, I’ll reward you with a house in Dubai or Imperial Capital. If you screw up, just marry four wives there–our company will provide for your retirement…”

Fu Yu was both amused and exasperated, resembling a Pan Jinlian being cornered with no way out.

“Mr. Su, at least give me a standard. What counts as doing well? What counts as screwing up?”

Su Huai thought for a moment and set a KPI: “Dominate the Middle East, showcase our expertise, make those hillbillies shout ‘Old Iron 666’–mission accomplished.”

Fu Yu truly cried this time. He’d never seen anyone push him into the deep end like this. And seriously, what the hell is “Old Iron 666”?

“Fine, I’ll go!”

With clenched teeth, he decided to go all in, taking a team of elite forces straight to the Arab world.

…

During this time, apart from the three major tasks, there were also some small matters.

For instance, Panda was genuinely brought to life by him.

Thousands of Xingyu streamers flooded in, millions of new players joined, and the platform flourished like never before.

But just when everyone thought Panda’s rise was an inevitability, well… you can’t teach an old dog new tricks–the management ended up creating a fiasco.

It happened in early May. In the dead of night, several dance streamers, while engaged in PK competitions, took off their anti-cold covers, bit down on T-shaped cloths, and performed risque dances in the nude.

Once the session ended, one of them didn’t bother putting any clothes back on. She just streamed naked, ultimately exposing major parts and private areas while dancing.

Truthfully, Panda had always had issues with explicit content, especially during midnight streaming sessions–plenty of people were outrageously daring.

Last April, Panda was already summoned for discussions, but no effective corrective actions were taken.

The exact reasons…

In Su Huai’s view, it boiled down to various entanglements and unwritten rules between frontline managers and streamers.

Panda’s room management authority was massive. With sparse personnel, each individual was responsible for countless rooms.

At any given time, there’d just be one person managing everything, so naturally, whatever they said went.

Unprincipled streamers would bribe moderators to relax the surveillance, taking advantage of this to perform sexually suggestive acts.

The bribes weren’t substantial–usually it was about forming cliques, excessive flattery, and offering private services at home.

As a result, fair play went completely out the window.

Streamers with connections played however they wanted at midnight, doing dances as revealing as they pleased, attracting users with explicit content–not only were their popularity rankings at the top, but they also received far more tips compared to clean streamers.

Streamers without connections, meanwhile, were warned for the slightest cleavage exposure.

Some particularly crooked moderators even took the opportunity to suppress dissenting streamers–it was a messy and chaotic environment.

In mid-May, the Shanghai Network Information Office called Panda in for discussions, demanding fixes.

Wang Siming threw a fit during the meeting and fired two frontline managers who had “threatened” Xingyu’s streamers, then came to Su Huai dejectedly.

“No need to apologize.”

Su Huai was calm and went straight to the point: “Can you guarantee that this won’t happen again?”

“After this, no one will dare offend Xingyu’s streamers again!”

Wang Siming answered firmly.

But that wasn’t the answer Su Huai was looking for.

“Can you guarantee the purity and discipline of your frontline management?”

Wang Siming shuddered: “I can! Just give me a little more time!”

“Okay, I’ll watch your moves.”

Wang Siming’s “moves” consisted of criticizing one executive from 360, dismissing two mid-level managers, and hosting a large meeting to repeatedly emphasize the importance of the issue.

At this point, Su Huai lost his last shred of hope in him.

This problem was both simple and complicated in nature.

Simple because establishing an independent monitoring department and doubling the manpower in operational management would effectively resolve the issue of excessive frontline authority.

Three people per team co-investigating the same area. Faced with issues, no one could act independently; reports had to be collectively reviewed after addressing problems. Naturally, there’d be no room for shady dealings.

Complicated, because, well… it was indeed complicated.

Neither the Banana Group nor the 360 team could accept a significant increase in management costs.

Heading toward IPOs, how could they justify such heavy employee costs?

Moreover, increasing employees requires increased layers of management. That additional department weight–who does it belong to?

Neither side was going to concede to the other, and they tacitly didn’t want Xingyu involved, so this mess persisted.

On top of that, here’s an uncomfortable truth:

The current frontline personnel all consisted of old cronies brought in by their respective factions. They shared in the benefits and enjoyed the perks. If they found a fun streamer, they’d know exactly how to invite their big brothers to join in.

In such circumstances, why would they willingly restrain their own underlings? For them, it was absolutely absurd.

In the underworld, everyone’s out for profit. Blocking someone’s path to making money is akin to killing their parents. If you’re so capable, you go handle it–we won’t willingly cut off our own lifeline.

Taobao is the epitome of this today, with factions flourishing beneath various mountains, each feasting to their heart’s content.

But, Taobao earned its stripes and dominates the market, naturally entering the gold-chopping stage.

Panda, still a precarious third-place player, had what grounds for such behavior?!

Su Huai quickly realized he couldn’t save Panda–not even with the support of Xingyu’s army of elite streamers and internet queen Yuji.

Little Wang might be arrogant, but he was ridiculously incompetent. This chapter’s outcome would inevitably end the same–perhaps just dragging out the inevitable for a while.

Since this was the case, he no longer exerted extra effort.

He focused one side on his personal ventures, while keeping an eye on his payday from Panda.

After all, he could pocket 75% commissions–what did it matter if Panda lived or died?

As June gradually arrived, Xingyu began tackling the final major task–officially accepting Tianyi’s investment and securing shares in Douyin.