The Whole Department Is Studying His Store? He'll Print the Materials!

Just after ten on Wednesday morning, Zhou Bin strolled over to Lin Fan's desk with a teacup in hand and set the bottom of the cup against the desk with a tap.

"Xiao Lin, I've got a proper job for you."

"Go ahead, Brother Bin."

"Friday at two in the afternoon, we've got the department review meeting. This month it's our group's turn to host, and the supervisor handed the whole thing to me." Zhou Bin took a sip of tea. "I'm doing the closing commentary on Friday, so I won't have time. You'll handle the event arrangements."

"Book the biggest meeting room, get the projector ready, collect materials from every group, then print and bind them—one copy per person." He counted on his fingers. "Oh, and sit in the back on Friday and take minutes. Organize them after the meeting and send them to the whole department."

From running errands to writing things up, the entire package had been dumped on him.

"Sure, Brother Bin. I'll handle it."

"That's more like it." Satisfied, Zhou Bin turned to leave, then seemed to remember something. He looked back and lowered his voice. "Also pull together something for me: the public data on that dark horse store, matched with our category's seasonal-transition curves from past years. I'll need it for my Friday commentary. Make it detailed."

"Friday's meeting is going to cover that store?"

"Otherwise, why would I be doing the closing commentary?" Zhou Bin tilted his chin toward the next room. "That newcomer from the women's clothing group submitted a case study and specifically asked to break down that store. The supervisors all approved it. There, satisfied? The whole department is going to study the women's clothing you stare at every day. You brat, you've actually caught up with the trend."

He walked away holding his cup, leaving half his words hanging in the air.

Lin Fan stared at the screen and sorted through the news from beginning to end.

What was meant to come had finally been laid out on the table.

There was only one outcome he wanted from this meeting: when it ended, everyone in the room would leave with the same conclusion. Some expert was behind the scenes operating a small Hangzhou store. As for who that expert was—no trace could be found. Better yet, no one should be too eager to look.

The advantage for him was obvious too. The event arrangements were in his hands. He set the agenda and printed the materials. Whatever everyone planned to say, he would know before anyone else. Before the battle had even begun, the enemy's battle plan had already been spread across his desk.

If there was anything to gain, this meeting was a free offensive-and-defensive drill. The department's sharpest data analysts would tear his store apart from every angle. How far they could dig, and what layers they could never reach—watching it once on Friday afternoon would be worth more than thinking about it alone ten times over.

A little after two that afternoon, Su Qing came over carrying a stack of printouts and placed them on his desk, the pages squared neatly.

"My case study. Twelve pages. Print them in this order. Don't mess them up."

"Don't worry."

"Have you arranged the agenda yet?" She braced both hands against the edge of his desk. "Put me first. Leave the closing spot to someone else. I want everyone listening while they're at their most alert."

"Sure. You'll go first."

He agreed so readily that Su Qing narrowed her eyes and looked him over.

"You aren't curious? It's not often that an entire department holds a meeting to study one store."

"I'm curious, so I put you first."

"You've got good taste." She straightened up, then remembered something and added, "Oh, right. That thing you said last time about luck accounting for more than half of it—I put it in the case study as a negative viewpoint. I'm going to address it at the meeting. You don't mind, do you?"

"I don't mind. I was talking nonsense anyway."

"I think so too." Su Qing picked up her draft, took two steps, then turned back. "There's just one last piece missing. Tonight, I'll ask the store about it in my capacity as a category operator and nail down the store owner's own explanation. Then the case study will be complete. Listen carefully in class on Friday."

The crisp click of her heels followed her all the way back to the next room.

Lin Fan opened the twelve pages she had left behind and read them one by one.

The first page showed that curve: flat at the beginning, then a single line shooting into the sky. It was even more glaring in print than on the screen.

Further on, the listing date—late August—was marked in red, with a note beside it: heavily stocking winter goods in the height of summer, abnormal.

The pricing analysis worked backward from a cost of 9.9 yuan and concluded that they had to have a firsthand supply source. Buying from wholesale stalls could not achieve that price.

The price-war battle had eight days of price changes laid out in a table, with a note that read: textbook attrition tactics; the operator was deeply versed in offense and defense among small and medium sellers.

Page by page, she had understood everything visible on the surface. Not only had she understood it, she had explained it with impressive clarity. This case study could be handed to new sellers as teaching material without changing a single word.

He flipped to the second-to-last page, to the section on the store owner's background.

Registrant: Ma Le. Hangzhou local. Twenty-five years old. No other stores under his name. No business record. No connection to any known major sellers.

One line of conclusion: This person did not possess the ability to independently operate the store. There should be an expert behind the scenes operating it on his behalf. Identity pending investigation.

Lin Fan looked at that page for a few seconds longer.

The name Ma Le was printed on the paper. On Friday, it would be distributed to the entire department, one copy per person.

Three months ago, this sheet of paper would have made sweat break out on the back of his neck. Today, after reading it, he felt more at ease instead. She had dug up everything she could, all the way to Ma Le, and then the trail stopped. The name, the money, the source of the goods—there was not an inch of road further in. On this half-page, all she could write was a question mark.

By evening, most people had left. He went to the printing room and printed out the materials from every group along with those twelve pages, one set after another.

The printer hummed as it spat out paper. The curves from his own store emerged sheet after sheet, still warm. He stacked them neatly, aligned the corners, and stapled them together. Sixteen sets in total.

The person in the entire company closest to that store was helping prepare for a meeting to study it. No one would believe it if he said it aloud, but right now, this stack of papers was stapled together in his hands.

After nine that night, in the rented apartment, the sound of tape tearing from the garage never stopped. More than four hundred orders had come in today, and Ma Le was downstairs cursing as he rushed to pack them.

Lin Fan sat in front of the computer when a Wangwang chat window popped up.

The account bore an official badge. Its verified information read: Taobao Women's Clothing Category Operations.

She had come. She kept her word.

"Hello, shop owner. I'm an operator for Taobao's women's clothing category. We noticed your store's recent outstanding growth and are conducting a routine review of its operations. Would it be convenient to chat for a few minutes?"

The question was polite, and the approach was perfectly proper.

He pulled his hands back from the keyboard and thought for a few seconds first.

What did she want? A sentence she could put into her case study—the store owner's own explanation—to add the final seal to that material. Then he would give her one: something meaningless, but impossible to fault.

"Hello, hello. Sure, it's convenient. Please ask."

"Your store stocked up heavily on autumn and winter items as early as late August. What was the reasoning at the time?"

"Our boss decided that. His family works in the knitting business, and he said goods were cheap in summer, so we should stock up more. We just followed instructions."

"Your boss is very experienced. Would it be possible to have him add a contact so we can discuss this in more detail?"

"Our boss is out sourcing goods all year round and doesn't get too involved with the store. He leaves everything to us to manage. Sorry about that."

The other side went quiet for a while, long enough for him to imagine her across the way chewing on her pen as she thought it over.

"I understand. Then one last question. Some competitors lowered their prices recently. Was your response remotely directed by your boss?"

She had reached the blade's edge. This was the real question; everything before it had merely been groundwork.

During those eight days of the price war, changing prices, pinning reviews, asking old customers to leave follow-up reviews—those were all the moves of an insider. She did not believe a wholesaler boss who never managed the store could pull off that entire routine remotely. She was waiting for customer service to slip up.

"Our boss told us what to do over the phone. He said small businesses aren't afraid of price comparisons, as long as we improve shipping speed. We can't really explain the details either. We just remember being run ragged those days."

He pushed the credit onto an unreachable boss and blurred the details into a mess of frantic work. It was not perfectly airtight, but she had not managed to pry out a single thing she wanted.

"Alright, thank you for your cooperation. Wishing your business prosperity."

"Thank you, dear. Please visit again."

The chat window fell silent, and he leaned back.

This back-and-forth would become normal from now on. The store fell under women's clothing, and she was an operator for women's clothing. Tonight she was asking about business; tomorrow night, she could ask about something else. From tonight onward, this end of Wangwang was the front line. He could not be careless with a single word.

Fortunately, everything she took away tonight was exactly what he wanted to give her.

The sound of tape still echoed downstairs. He pulled out a new notebook from the drawer, opened to the first page, and wrote four words.

Meeting Minutes.