we blog

Nakayama Takuya turned around, leaning against the whiteboard with his arms crossed. "But what if we launch a disruptive new business every quarter, or even every month? We need to constantly stimulate Wall Street like feeding Pavlov's dogs, making them develop a conditioned reflex—that any move Silicon Valley Online makes is a bellwether for the industry."

Tom's smile gradually froze, replaced by a thoughtful expression, which then turned into an undisguised excitement.

"Once this series of moves is over," Nakayama Takuya held up one finger and wagged it slightly, "the Sequoia Capital partners will be kneeling at the door begging us to sign the IPO papers. At that point, it won't just be a US dollar 300 million company anymore; there will be at least a zero added to that."

Tom took a deep breath, feeling a dryness in his throat.

Three hundred million US dollar.

Two years ago, this number would have been unthinkable.

At that time, Nakayama Takuya pointed to this wasteland and said he wanted to build an "online community" and "recreate Sega". Tom just thought that this young master had too much money to burn.

But now, looking at this excessively young man in front of him, Tom felt a chill run down his spine.

This isn't just doing business; it's clearly playing a grand game with the entire Silicon Valley as the chessboard.

What's most terrifying is that everyone willingly became his pawns, and even thought they had made a huge profit.

"Recreate a Sega— " Tom muttered to himself, "Looks like you weren't joking back then."

"I never joke, especially when it comes to making money." Nakayama Takuya picked up his coffee again, took a sip, and let the bittersweet aftertaste spread in his mouth. "But let's wait until Frank, that workaholic, calms down before saying these things. Right now, he probably hasn't even forgotten his own name."

As they were talking, the meeting room door was pushed open.

Frank walked in, his face still flushed with excitement, as if he had just given a passionate speech to the Development Department.

"All arranged! The Development Department will be busy for the next two weeks." He grabbed a half-cold cup of Americano from the table and gulped it down, completely oblivious to the strange silence between the other two.

Tom leaned back in his chair, twirling an empty paper cup in his hand, his gaze sweeping over Frank with a mischievous yet expectant look, as if he were looking at a rabbit that had just fallen into a trap and was still grinning foolishly.

Nakayama Takuya, meanwhile, was blowing on the foam in his glass, seemingly oblivious to what was happening.

The air was so quiet, so quiet, that it gave Frank the creeps.

After staring at each other for half a minute, Frank finally couldn't hold back anymore.

He touched his face, then looked down at his zipper. "What? Is there something on my face?"

Or do you think this idea is actually terrible?

"That's a good idea." Tom pointed at Nakayama Takuya, who had been silent until now, and finally couldn't hide the mischievous smile on his face. "It's just that you ran too fast, you didn't even put your shoes on properly. The main character had only said half of what he wanted to say, and you were already in a hurry to declare victory?"

Frank froze, his eyes widening, his neck mechanically turning towards Nakayama Takuya, his voice trembling. "Half? Isn't the navigation site already perfect? What else is there?"

Just as he was about to lean closer to ask more questions, Nakayama Takuya raised a hand and made a "stop" gesture.

Nakayama got up, walked to the freezer next to him, picked up a few pieces of ice, threw them into a glass, and filled it with water.

The ice cubes made a crisp sound as they hit the glass, which was particularly jarring in the quiet conference room.

"Sit down." Nakayama pushed the icy glass of water in front of Frank, his tone as calm as if soothing a restless patient. "Drink this water first, let it cool you down. What I'm about to say might upset your blood pressure."

Frank's Adam's apple bobbed as he glanced at the glass of ice water, then at the seemingly harmless smiling face.

He plopped back into his chair, grabbed his cup, and gulped down a large mouthful.

The ice water slid down his esophagus, making him shiver, and the burning fervor was finally forcibly suppressed a bit.

"Okay, I'm calm now." Frank put down his cup, placed his hands on his knees, and leaned forward like a schoolchild waiting for the teacher to hand out test papers. "So, what other ideas could make my heart stop? I'm ready."

Nakayama Takuya got up, walked to the door, and locked it with a click.

The commotion made Frank's heart leap into his throat again, and he almost crushed the paper cup in his hand.

Tom, however, shifted to a more comfortable position with great interest, looking like he was waiting to see a good show.

"I call this thing Weblog," Nakayama Takuya, sitting back on the sofa and uttering a neologism.

"Web-log?" Frank chewed on the word. "Web log? Sounds like a dry document a programmer uses to record server errors."

No, it's WebLog—my log of web browsing (Alogofmyweb)

"Wanderings," Nakayama Takuya corrected, then leaned forward, his tone slightly seductive, "Or, to sound cooler, you can break it down and read it as 'WeBlog'."

"Our blog?"

"Yes, us." Nakayama Takuya pointed to Frank, then to himself, "The current BBS is like a chaotic plaza, with everyone shouting through megaphones. It's lively, but nobody remembers anyone. Users' posts sink as soon as they're posted, like stones thrown into the sea. But what if we built a house for everyone right next to the plaza?"

Frank's eyes flickered, as if he had caught something.

"Take this as a subsite of the BBS," Nakayama Takuya continued. "Give each user an independent URL. Here, he's the king. He can write articles, post photos, record what he ate today, or rant about the neighbor next door. He can tag this content—'computer,' 'game,' or 'bikini.'"

Hearing this, Tom whistled.

Nakayama Takuya glanced at him, then turned to Frank and instructed, "Of course, the review process needs to be thorough. I don't want to open Silicon Valley Online and think I've stumbled into the red-light district of Las Vegas."

Frank didn't laugh; his mind raced. "But what's the fundamental difference between this and a BBS? Is it just a matter of centralizing posts?"

"The difference lies in sovereignty." Nakayama Takuya held up one finger. "On a BBS, you're a member of the community; on a blog, you're the owner. You can set permissions—who can see it, who can't. You can directly link to your own eloquent posts from the BBS and display them on your wall to show off."

Frank started to get restless.

This kind of design that satisfies human vanity is simply poison.