After Reading the Termination Notice, His Shop Gets an Order!

At the end of August 2009, the summer heat in Hangzhou had yet to subside. On Monday morning, the weekly meeting for the 3C Digital Accessories Group was held in a small conference room on the third floor. A dozen people sat around a long table, with a data sheet for the category projected on the wall.

The supervisor, Zheng Haifeng, tapped the table with his pen cap.

"Someone explain these numbers to me. In the accessories category this month, the number of units sold is up by thirty percent, but the total transaction value is only up by five percent. The average price is plummeting. Several veteran merchants have already come to me asking if the platform is diverting traffic to others."

No one in the room replied.

Lin Fan sat at the position closest to the door, a notebook spread out in front of him. He was the newest person in the room, having been on the job for just two weeks.

In two lifetimes combined, he had sat in this conference room more times than he could count.

In his previous life, he had also joined Taobao this year, and this same group. For the first two years, he was the one in the corner taking minutes, never daring to say a word during meetings, serving tea, running errands, and doing odd jobs—taking every hit a newcomer could possibly take.

Later, he jumped to the merchant side, following a grassroots boss. From a mom-and-pop shop, they grew into the number one brand in the category. One hit product after another—he had orchestrated them all. Every year, the boss would pat him on the shoulder and promise him shares, but every year, it was just empty talk.

Once the company went public, the boss immediately sided with the professional managers brought in by capital, sidelined him, kicked him out, and gave him three months' severance pay.

At forty, he watched the brand he had built ring the opening bell from his rented room, and as he watched, he simply ceased to exist.

When he opened his eyes again, he was back at his desk in his second week on the job.

The first to speak was Zhou Bin, the most senior staffer in the group and also his mentor.

"I've been keeping an eye on this for a while. It's summer vacation, so students are buying random things. Low-priced miscellaneous items are boosting the volume and pulling down the average price. Once school starts in September, the numbers will return to normal on their own. I suggest we observe a bit longer."

Zheng Haifeng set his pen cap on the table. "You said the same thing last week. 'Observe a bit longer.'"

"Data is not something you can rush," Zhou Bin said with a smile, not saying anything more.

The room fell silent again.

The answer was right in Lin Fan's gut; there was no need to guess.

In his previous life, on the merchant side, he had watched these people storm in. When the financial crisis hit, foreign trade orders dried up, and goods sat in warehouses, unable to be turned into cash. Factory owners turned around and put their stock online, starting at cost price and selling whatever they could. They smashed the prices of half the market, leaving veteran sellers wailing.

For the past two weeks, he had been immersed in the backend, turning the newly opened shops in the category upside down, all to lay the groundwork for this moment.

The question was whether to say it, and how much to say.

If a newcomer jumped too high, it would be too eye-catching. The business he was running at night couldn't afford to be watched by anyone. But he couldn't stay silent either; his probation review depended on his performance, and he had to keep this day job steady—it was his ticket to understanding the platform's foundation.

Reveal a little, enough for the supervisor to know he had some substance. That was enough.

Lin Fan closed his notebook. "Supervisor, may I say a few words?"

Everyone in the room turned their heads.

"It's not students buying these numbers; it's new sellers driving the prices down." He opened his notebook again. "I pulled the data on the shops that opened in the category over the last two months. More than half of the shipping origins are in Dongguan, Shenzhen, and Quanzhou—all places where factories are clustered. Most of the listing times are in the middle of the night, and they list hundreds of links at once. It's clearly factories clearing out their own inventory. With foreign trade orders cut off, they have to find a way to move these goods. They come in at cost price, and veteran merchants can't compete with them on price."

The room was silent for two seconds.

Zheng Haifeng stared at the projection for a while, then turned to ask Zhou Bin, "He's the one you're mentoring?"

"Yes, I'm mentoring him."

"Fine." He nodded. "You two verify the shipping origin data and explain it clearly to me at next week's meeting."

After the meeting, as they walked out, someone whispered that the newcomer had started firing shots the first time he opened his mouth.

At the entrance to the breakroom, Zhou Bin stopped him.

"Xiao Lin, it's not that I'm criticizing you." Zhou Bin poured himself a glass of water. "For things like that in a meeting, you need to clear it with me first. I'm your mentor. If you mess up, I'm the one who takes the heat, you know?"

"I understand, Brother Bin. It was my oversight."

"Numbers are dead, but people are alive. Watch more, talk less." Zhou Bin patted his shoulder and walked away.

In his previous life, he had truly taken those words to heart. Watch more, talk less. He watched for two years, only to see the things he had dug up end up in other people's weekly reports.

Playing the part again in this life was his own choice. The more "dull" this Lin Fan appeared during the day, the safer his business at night would be.

Around three in the afternoon, an email notification went out to all staff.

An employee who had been with the company for three years in South China had been caught running a shop on the platform behind the company's back, selling goods in his own category. The internal audit confirmed it. He was fired, all earnings from the past two years were clawed back, and a notice was sent out to the industry circle. His career in this field was effectively over.

The office area suddenly became lively.

"Selling goods in your own category? Isn't that just waiting to be caught?"

"I heard the shipping address gave him away. He used his own home address."

Zhou Bin read half the email and clicked his tongue. "Three years of work down the drain. What was he thinking?"

Lin Fan shook his head and read the email from start to finish.

He had memorized the terms long ago: employees and their immediate family members were prohibited from opening shops on the platform. Getting caught meant the "three-piece set": termination, clawback, and public notice.

He had received this email in his previous life, too. Back then, he had watched it as entertainment. Seeing it again in this life, the back of his neck felt cold.

It would be a lie to say he wasn't afraid.

But this guy didn't die unjustly. He opened a shop in the category under his own nose and used his home address for shipping—it was like writing his name on his forehead.

His own shop was a world away.

The shop was in Ma Le's name; the real-name verification and bank card were all Ma Le's. Not a single character of his own name was involved. He was selling women's accessories, which had absolutely nothing to do with the digital accessories he managed. The customer service representative replying on Wangwang and the newcomer sitting here during the day were two different people.

He walked the line, carefully checking every step.

What the cost of one wrong step was, this afternoon's email had spelled out clearly.

At six o'clock sharp, he locked his computer, grabbed his bag, and left.

Someone behind him muttered that they had never seen a newcomer leave so early.

Zhou Bin's voice was neither high nor low, just loud enough for him to hear. "Young people these days, they really have big hearts."

Let them talk. His time at night was precious, every minute of it.

At seven in the evening, in an old residential complex in the west of the city, on the sixth floor.

The apartment was Ma Le's family home. Ma Le occupied the master bedroom, and Lin Fan rented the other room at a "friend price." This was why he dared to put the shop in Ma Le's name—he knew him inside and out.

As soon as he entered, the TV was on, and Ma Le was half-lying on the sofa, gnawing on a watermelon.

"You're back." Ma Le didn't even lift his eyelids. "That piece-of-junk computer in your room has been making noise all afternoon, ding-ding-ding, like a woodpecker."

Lin Fan paused as he changed his shoes.

Making noise all afternoon.

He went into his room and woke the computer. A row of Wangwang icons was flashing. He pulled up the backend and leaned in to look for two seconds.

Fourteen orders.

It had been listed for five days. In the first four days, he had only sold three pairs. Last night, he had changed the keywords in the title and moved the listing/delisting time to the peak traffic slot at night, pressing the price down to 9.9 yuan. In one day, fourteen orders.

If this number were brought up at the daytime meeting, no one would give it a second glance. But for a pair of leggings listed for five days, this meant the keywords had caught the traffic, the conversion rate was solid, and the direction was right.

Leggings were a product that would see search volume skyrocket as soon as the weather cooled in mid-September. That was how it played out in his previous life. Now, by accumulating a dozen orders a day, he was building up sales volume and reviews. By the time the off-season hit, his link would already be ranked at the front, waiting. If anyone else wanted to squeeze in, they would have to pay real money to do it.

Seven or eight buyers were urging him on Wangwang.

"Is the shopkeeper there? If I place an order today, can you ship it tomorrow?"

He placed his fingers on the keyboard, his tone shifting.

"Dear, I'm here. I'll ship everything tomorrow morning. It will arrive in the Jiangsu-Zhejiang-Shanghai region the day after tomorrow."

He typed it out character by character, efficient and warm—not at all like the newcomer sitting in the corner during the day.

After replying, he started packing. He dragged out a box of goods from the corner. Four hundred pairs of leggings were stacked neatly. He had spent two thousand yuan to get them from a wholesale stall—nearly half of all his assets.

Unpacking, checking sizes, bagging, writing labels. In the sender column, he wrote Ma Le's name in neat characters, using a newly purchased phone number.

As he was tearing the tape for the seventh or eighth package, Ma Le wandered in holding half a watermelon, leaning against the door frame.

"I ask you, what's the point?" Ma Le peered at the floor. "A dignified big-company white-collar worker, squatting on the floor taping boxes after work. You make a few cents on a pair of pants—is it even enough for your taxi fare?"

"Just making some pocket money."

"And you're acting like an underground operative. Using my name, getting a separate phone card. Does your company control everything, even what employees do after work?"

"They don't allow side businesses. It looks bad if people see it." Lin Fan didn't look up. "Your name-lending fee is going up to 250 starting this month."

"Can't you make it 300? 250 sounds like an insult."

"Fine, 300."

"That's more like it." Ma Le took a bite of the watermelon and mumbled, "Alright, you get to work. I won't disturb you while you're making the big bucks."

He wandered out.

Ma Le thought this was just a small-time hobby, which was perfect.

The only person in this house who knew about the shop was Ma Le, and all Ma Le knew was that it was a small shop selling leggings, a scale of a few hundred yuan in pocket money a month. As the shop grew, he would have to keep this paper-thin secret even tighter.

The real accounting was yet to come.

The goods from the stall were second-hand prices, 4.5 yuan a pair. Selling them for 9.9, after subtracting postage and packaging, he made less than 2 yuan. This was a strategy for testing the market; it wouldn't build scale. To move volume later, he would have to get first-hand goods. He already had a plan in his head for where to get them, but he couldn't rush it. First, he had to handle this current wave.

Further ahead was November.

This November, the platform was holding its first Double Eleven promotion. Right now, almost no one in the company took it seriously. He had seen the results; that day would stun everyone, and it would double every year after that until it became a festival.

The first pot of gold he wanted was pinned to that day.

Before then, the shop needed volume, he needed capital for goods, and his identity couldn't be exposed. Three things—not one could be dropped.

Days like this would only last a few years. In his previous life, he had watched this door close bit by bit, with traffic costs rising from pennies to a cutthroat scramble. No matter how capable those who came later were, they could only work for the platform and the capital. In his previous life, he was one of those people who came later. Fortunately, this time, he was early.

By ten o'clock, fourteen packages were stacked in two piles by the door. He had scheduled the courier for seven the next morning.

He straightened his back and pounded it twice. The computer dinged again.

He leaned over to take a look—another order.

The weather hadn't even cooled yet, and orders were already knocking on his door. Once it cooled in mid-September, he would have to add a zero to this number. He had seen it with his own eyes in his previous life.

He set his alarm for six, squatted back down, and continued taping.