bestfiction Chapter 286 Undercurrents within the Industry
Chapter 286 Undercurrents within the Industry
While Lu Ran was recording the song, the outside world never stopped.
Shanghai, EA's temporary office.
David Morrison sat in the conference room with a freshly printed market analysis report spread out on the table in front of him.
He looked at it very carefully, reading it almost line by line, occasionally pausing to circle certain numbers with a red pen.
Li Ming stood to the side, notebook in hand, ready to record Morrison's instructions at any time.
"Has this data been confirmed?" Morrison asked, pointing to a line of numbers on the report, his brow furrowed slightly.
Li Ming leaned over and took a look: "It's confirmed. TuTu Technology's TUTU platform saw its daily active users drop from 68 million to 62 million in the past week. That's a drop of nearly 9%."
Morrison remained silent, leaning back in his chair, his gaze fixed on the hazy horizon outside the window.
He's thinking about things.
The young founder of Tutu Technology was reported by the media to have been injured after returning from the disaster area.
He suffered a fractured right leg and a mild concussion. Although it is not life-threatening, he will need to rest for at least one or two months.
One or two months.
A lot can happen in one or two months in this industry.
"Mr. Morrison," Li Ming tentatively began, "Perfect World sent an email asking if you would like to attend next week's joint press conference."
"I'll be there." Morrison looked away. "Tell them I'll be there. Also—" He paused, "The focus of the press conference shouldn't just be on the partnership itself. Emphasize EA's technological advantages and global resources, let the market know what partnering with EA means."
Li Ming quickly jotted down notes in his notebook, then asked, "What about Rabbit Technology? Should we mention them?"
Morrison thought for a moment, then shook his head: "No need to mention it. We're working with Perfect World now, not TuTu Technology. Mentioning them would only be giving them free publicity."
"clear."
Morrison stood up, walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, put his hands in his pockets, and looked at the buildings in the distance.
The skyline of Shanghai is faintly visible in the winter mist, and the towering office buildings resemble a forest of steel and concrete, silent and austere.
He recalled the scene from his first negotiation with Lu Ran a few months ago.
The young man sat opposite him, his smile gentle and his tone calm, but the conditions he offered were more ruthless than anyone else's.
The 50/50 revenue-sharing agreement was overturned and replaced by a tiered revenue-sharing system, non-exclusive licensing, and strict KPI assessments—each of which protects the interests of Tutu Technology and weakens EA's bargaining power.
"Mr. Morrison," Lu Ran said at the time, "if you really want to cooperate, we need to change the way we do things."
He changed.
They switched to cooperating with Perfect World.
Perfect World is larger and has deeper technological accumulation, but its bargaining power is weaker.
Perfect World, facing a tight cash flow and in dire need of external resources, was far less assertive at the negotiating table than Rabbit Technology.
This is the kind of partner EA wants—capable, but not strong enough; ambitious, but not tough enough.
"Li Ming," Morrison suddenly spoke, "what's been going on with Sakura Games lately?"
Li Ming flipped through his notebook: "They've invested in three more companies in the past week, bringing their total investment to over $200 million. As for Yitiaoxinquan, they're reportedly in contact with Tencent, wanting to restart previous cooperation negotiations."
Morrison raised an eyebrow: "Didn't Tencent reject them before?"
"That was before," Li Ming said. "The situation is different now. Tutu Technology is experiencing a setback, TUTU is losing users, the Super Girl finals have been postponed, and Lu Ran is recovering from an injury—at this time, Tencent's attitude may soften."
Morrison paused for a moment, then slowly nodded.
"This guy, Yitiaoxinquan, is no ordinary person," he said. "He realized the unique characteristics of the Chinese market earlier than we did. Investing in small and medium-sized companies, integrating channel resources, and leveraging alliances to influence leading players—this strategy, although requiring a large initial investment, has tremendous staying power once it takes shape."
"Then we..."
"We'll go our own way," Morrison interrupted him. "EA's strength lies in technology and intellectual property, not capital operations. If we make good products and expand our distribution channels, we'll naturally gain a foothold in the market. If Sakura Games wants to use money to pave a way out, then let them. Money will eventually run out."
Li Ming nodded and made a few more notes in his notebook.
"Oh, right," Morrison suddenly remembered something, "when is the Super Girl finale scheduled?"
"This weekend," Li Ming said, "TuTu Technology just announced that the finals will proceed as scheduled, and a disaster relief fundraising segment will be added."
Morrison frowned. "Wasn't Lu Ran injured? How can he still attend?"
"It's said he went in a wheelchair. He also had a seat on the judging panel."
Morrison paused for a moment, then said, "Keep a close eye on it. This finals could affect a lot of things."
"clear."
Tokyo, Sakura Games headquarters.
A trusting dog sat in his office, with a recent user data curve of Tutu Technology on the computer screen in front of him.
The curve descends from the high point, and although the slope is not steep, the direction is clear—downward.
He stared at the curve for a long time, then picked up the teacup on the table and took a sip of the now-cold tea.
The bitter taste spread in his mouth, but he didn't frown or even change his expression.
Having spent twenty years navigating the business world, he had long since learned not to show his emotions on his face.
No matter what he's thinking, his expression is always stagnant.
But at this moment, his heart was not at peace.
When the news of Lu Ran's injury came, he did indeed breathe a sigh of relief. Not out of schadenfreude, but because the young man had put too much pressure on him.
The conditions Lu Ran offered during the first negotiation remain vivid in his memory—one hundred million US dollars for five percent of the shares, open access to core technologies, and a 70/30 profit split—each one was a pipe dream, each one an insult to him.
But he had to admit that Lu Ran was qualified to offer those terms.
Because Tutu Technology owns TUTU.
With 50 million daily active users, a user retention rate of over 90%, and user stickiness far exceeding the industry average, these figures together constitute an asset that all competitors covet.
TUTU is not just a social platform; it is also a channel, an entry point, and a bridge connecting users and content.
Whoever controls TUTU controls the key to accessing China's young users.
Therefore, the Sakura game must take action.
It wasn't after Lu Ran recovered from his injuries, but before he did.
A dog put down its teacup, picked up the phone on the table, and dialed a number.
"Hey, could you help me schedule a meeting with Mr. Chen Mo from Tencent's strategic investment department? Yes, it's about the same thing as before—I'd like to discuss the possibility of cooperation again."
After a few words were exchanged on the other end of the phone, a dog listened expressionlessly, then said, "Tell him the terms are negotiable this time. Shareholding ratio, profit sharing, technology sharing—all terms are open to discussion. As long as Tencent is willing to sit down and talk."
He hung up the phone, leaned back in his chair, and closed his eyes.
He knew Tencent wouldn't give in easily.
It was a proud company with its own strategic plan and technological accumulation, and it didn't need to rely on anyone.
But he also knew that Tencent was not a monolithic entity.
Tencent has different business groups with different interests and different strategic directions.
As long as we can find that entry point, and as long as we can persuade the right person, the door to cooperation may open.
Once Tencent gives its approval, Sakura Games' position in the Chinese market will be completely opened up.
By then, neither Rabbit Technology nor Lu Ran will be a threat.
A dog opened its eyes and its gaze fell on a photograph on the table.
The photo shows a young man wearing a gray hoodie, standing on the stage of TUTU's launch event, holding a microphone, and smiling confidently and ostentatiously.
That's Lu Ran.
A dog stared at the photo for a few seconds, then flipped it over and placed it under the folder.
He didn't want to see that face again.
At least, until a cooperation agreement is reached.
Shanghai, Tencent East China Branch.
Chen Mo sat in his office, an email he had just received displayed on his computer screen.
From: Sakura Games Overseas Business Department.
Subject: Further communication regarding strategic cooperation.
He opened the email and read it line by line.
The email was much more polite than before, lacking the arrogance of the past and replaced by a cautious probing.
"We understand Tencent's leading position in the Chinese market, respect Tencent's strategic choices, and are willing to explore various forms of cooperation on the basis of equality and mutual benefit."
"The shareholding ratio can be controlled below 15%, the profit sharing can be implemented on a tiered basis, and the scope of technology sharing can be further clarified and restricted."
"We believe that the collaboration between Sakura Games and Tencent will help both parties achieve greater success in the Chinese market and even the global market."
After reading the email, Chen Mo leaned back in his chair, took off his glasses, and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
Sakura Games' attitude has changed.
Become more humble, more flexible, and more willing to compromise.
But he knew that this change wasn't because Sakura Yugi had suddenly become more agreeable, but because the situation had changed.
The setbacks in Tutu Technology's momentum, Lu Ran's injury and recovery, and the postponement of the "Super Girl" finale—these factors combined gave Sakura Games an opportunity.
While you are sick, I will kill you.
The rules of the business world have always been this simple and straightforward.
Chen Mo put his glasses back on and typed a line in the reply box:
"Received. I will submit your proposal for internal discussion. I will contact you promptly if there are any developments."
The wording was polite, but there were no promises.
This is his consistent style—neither proactive nor refusing, and not taking responsibility.
After sending the email, he turned off his computer, got up, and went to the window.
He thought of Lu Ran.
He sensed that the young man was extraordinary from their first meeting.
Knowing when to advance, when to retreat, when to endure, and when to fight.
Such a person will not be defeated by a single injury.
He picked up his phone, found Lu Ran's number, hesitated for a moment, but still didn't dial it.
Now is not the time.
It's not too late to contact him when he realizes that TuTu Technology can't succeed on its own.
...