A Lifeline

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

Only Han Luyi remained at his desk. One of the two screens in front of him displayed code, while the other showed the user backend.

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

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 the quality of AI-generated code. Are we supposed to let these people mass-produce garbage code, then dump it all on us to fix? BugKiller's computing power will be dragged down."

"The data is right here. Seventeen percent of users account for thirty-two percent of submissions. And this group's individual payment rate is much higher than programmers'. They can't do without BugKiller, unlike programmers, who can fix bugs themselves. They're already using AI to generate 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 our foundation is almost tapped out too. CodeSafe is free, natively integrated—why would professional programmers pay for BugKiller? Growth has already slowed after two hundred paying teams. Platform adaptation can't solve that."

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

"And then what? There are only a few million professional developers in the country, but the real growth lies with the 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 and every interaction had been built on the assumption that its users understood code. Targeting Vibe Coding users meant rethinking the product logic, interaction model, pricing strategy—almost starting an entirely new line.

"Niannian, these people are just trying it for fun." Han Luyi's voice was low. "Today they use AI to make a webpage. Tomorrow they might find it 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 rely on code to make a living. Without BugKiller, programmers see their code quality drop and projects get delayed. It's a necessity. Without AI coding, 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. But for these people, BugKiller is a lifeline. If their code won't run, they have no idea what to do. 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, 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 to 82.7% for professional programmers. The programmers' figure was already good, but this group of "people who couldn't code" had exceeded it by a full ten percentage points.

Han Luyi looked up. "What about the conversion rate? High repurchase is one thing, but 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, so the sample size isn't large enough. That's what I'll do next."

"Mr. Han, there's more." Jiang Yixin flipped through several more pages. "These are some support tickets I found."

"One user wrote in a ticket, 'Could you add a Plus tier? The 99-yuan plan isn't enough, but I don't want to buy the 2,999-yuan one.' And here's another: 'The programmer tools are too complicated to configure. Can you make it run with one click?' These are real comments from paying users."

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

Jiang Yixin tactfully took half a step back. "Okay. I'll head out first. Goodbye, Mr. Han."

She turned and went back to pack up her things, her footsteps light.

Su Niannian watched her retreating figure. Only after the sound of 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 and 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 corridor.

"Mom" was still at the top of the call log.

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

The red chili oil broth at Haidilao bubbled away, while several tomatoes floated in the tomato soup, its aroma drifting straight into their noses.

Jiang Yixin swished a slice of tripe up and down in the pot seven times, then pulled it out, dipped it generously in sesame oil, and took a bite. Her eyes immediately lit up.

"I learned data analysis from Ms. Su today," she said as she ate. "Do you know what a user profile is? It means not looking at what users do first, but at who they are. It's incredible."

"Your boss sounds like she knows her stuff?"

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

"Not just a little. She really knows her stuff." Jiang Yixin put down her chopsticks and gestured with her hands. "She's gentle and cool at the same time. The way she carried herself while drawing out strategy on the whiteboard—I became her die-hard fan on the spot."

"What about NullPointer, then?"

"I'm a die-hard 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 plaid-shirt guys joined at the same time as me. At first, I thought they were big shots, but they're both weirdos. I can only rely on hardworking little Jiang here."

"You're already taking on major responsibilities right after joining?"

"Of course." She proudly raised 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? Holy shit, 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 solemnly. "May your company go public soon, and may President Jiang keep getting promoted. When the time comes, hire me as your little assistant."

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

"Screw you."

The two burst into laughter.

Only Han Luyi remained in the office.

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

Sight.

A translucent light screen appeared before him, 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 stage]

[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. It was dark outside. The office buildings in Zhangjiang were lit up one after another.