Lifeline

Su Niannian and Jiang Yixin came out of the conference room. Everyone else had already left work.

Only Han Luyi remained at his desk, with two monitors in front of him—one displaying code, the other the user dashboard.

Su Niannian stood beside him and went over the analysis they had just discussed.

Han Luyi frowned after listening.

"Let people who can't code use AI to write code?"

"Correction: help them bring their ideas to life."

"What's the difference? You know perfectly well what AI-generated code is like. Letting these people mass-produce garbage code and then dump it all on us to fix? BugKiller's computing power will be crushed."

"The data is right here. Seventeen percent of users accounted for thirty-two percent of submissions. And this group's individual payment rate is much higher than programmers'. They can't function without BugKiller, unlike programmers, who can fix bugs themselves. They're already using AI-generated code. Without us, they'll write even more bugs."

Han Luyi leaned back in his chair.

"BugKiller is for programmers. That's our foundation."

"Then we've nearly hit the ceiling of that foundation. CodeSafe is free, natively integrated—why would professional programmers pay for BugKiller? Growth has already slowed after two hundred paying teams. This isn't something platform adaptation can solve."

"That's because we haven't adapted to enough platforms yet. Once all the cloud platforms are connected—"

"And then what? There are only a few million professional developers in the country, but the real growth lies with people who can't code. Tens of millions, maybe even hundreds of millions."

Han Luyi fell silent.

BugKiller had been designed for programmers from its very first line of code. Every feature, every interaction, was built on the assumption that "the user understands code." Targeting Vibe Coding users meant rethinking the product logic, the interaction model, the pricing strategy—practically opening up an entirely new line.

"Nian Nian, these people are just trying it out." Han Luyi's voice was low. "Today they use AI to make a webpage. Tomorrow they'll decide it's too much trouble and stop. Their retention won't be high, and neither will their willingness to pay."

"How do you know?"

"Because they don't depend on code to make a living. Without BugKiller, programmers see their code quality drop and projects get delayed. That's a hard need. Without AI code generation, product managers can just go back to writing PRDs. Their lives aren't affected."

"Wrong." Su Niannian stepped forward. "For programmers, BugKiller is an optimization tool. They can survive without it, just more slowly. For these people, BugKiller is a lifeline. If their code won't run, they have no way to deal with it. Who do you think is more willing to pay?"

She said, "Look at this group's repurchase rate."

Jiang Yixin had been listening beside them the whole time, still clutching the stack of printed data. At that, she hurriedly placed it on the desk.

Han Luyi lowered his head to look.

The thirty-day repurchase rate for non-technical users was 93.2%, compared with 82.7% for professional programmers. The programmers' figure was already impressive, but this group of "people who can't code" had beaten it by a full ten percentage points.

Han Luyi looked up. "What about conversion rate? High repurchase is one thing. Whether new users are willing to pay is another."

"I haven't calculated it yet." Su Niannian did not hide it. "This group has been here for less than two months, and the sample size isn't large enough. That's what I'll do next."

"Director Han, there's more here." Jiang Yixin flipped through the next few pages. "These are some support tickets I found."

"One user wrote, 'Could you add a Plus tier? The 99-yuan plan isn't enough, but I don't want to buy the 2,999-yuan plan.' And this one: 'Programmer tools are too troublesome to configure. Can there be one-click execution?' These are all real comments from paying users."

Han Luyi looked them over and said, "It's too late today. Go home first."

Jiang Yixin tactfully stepped back half a pace. "Okay. I'll head out first, goodbye, Director Han."

She turned to pack up her things, her steps light.

Su Niannian watched her back. Only after her footsteps had faded did she say quietly, "I understand why you hired her."

Han Luyi looked up at her.

"I don't know how good she is technically, but she has some talent for product work." Su Niannian paused. "She went through those user tickets herself."

Han Luyi nodded slightly, then returned to their earlier topic.

"Let me think about it."

After leaving Han Luyi's desk, Su Niannian took out her phone at the end of the hallway.

"Mom" was still at the top of her call history.

She slipped the phone back into her pocket and returned to her desk to pack up.

The red chili oil broth at Haidilao bubbled furiously, while a few tomatoes floated in the tomato broth, its aroma wafting straight into their noses.

Jiang Yixin swished a slice of tripe seven times up and eight times down, then fished it out, dipped it generously in sesame oil sauce, and took a bite that made her eyes light up.

"I learned data analysis from Director Su today," she said between bites. "Do you know what a user profile is? It means you don't start by looking at what users do—you first look at who they are. It's incredible."

"Sounds like your boss has some real skills?"

Her best friend Big Liu, Liu Haoyu, said indistinctly around a mouthful of duck intestine.

"Not just some skills. She's amazing." Jiang Yixin put down her chopsticks and gestured with her hands. "She's gentle and badass at the same time. The presence she had while drawing strategy on the whiteboard—I instantly became her biggest fangirl."

"Then what about NullPointer?"

"I'm a hardcore fan of both of them!"

"What about everyone else at your company?"

Jiang Yixin curled her lip and tossed a slice of fatty beef into the pot. "Don't even mention them. Two guys in plaid shirts joined at the same time as me. At first I thought they were big shots, but they're both weirdos. This place can only rely on hardworking Xiao Jiang."

"You're already carrying the load right after joining?"

"Of course." She proudly lifted her chin. "I'm even going to the Cloud Developers Conference next week."

Liu Haoyu's chopsticks froze in midair, her eyes going wide. "The Developers Conference? Damn, only our director gets to attend that expo."

"Hehe, jealous?" Jiang Yixin smiled until her eyes narrowed. "I'm going with my two idols."

"Then you'd better take lots of pictures. Let me see what it's like."

"Don't worry. I'll bring you a souvenir."

Liu Haoyu raised her cup of sour plum juice and looked at her seriously. "May your company go public soon, and may President Jiang keep rising through the ranks. When that happens, recruit me as your little assistant."

Jiang Yixin poured herself a glass of water and clinked it with hers. "Sure. I'll make you Chief Bag Carrier."

"Screw you."

The two burst into laughter.

Han Luyi was the only one left in the office.

He went over the data Jiang Yixin had left behind again and again.

Sight.

A translucent screen appeared before his eyes, displaying data only he could see.

[User group analysis complete]

[Group tag: creators with non-technical backgrounds]

[Average monthly growth rate: 34.7%]

[Growth curve type: early exponential]

[Predicted paid conversion rate: 11.3% (industry average: 3–5%)]

[Risk alert: current product interactions have not been optimized for this group; elevated churn risk]

He closed Sight and walked to the window. Night had fallen, and the office buildings in Zhangjiang were lit up one after another.