After Divorce, I Can Hear the Future

Chapter 78: Distribution of Benefits

Lu Liang smiled, nodding slightly at everyone, and beckoned Tang Caidie over. The two walked into the office one after the other.

While browsing the documents requiring his signature and authorization, he rubbed the stubble that had grown overnight and grinned, “Tang Jie, do you think I’ve gotten more handsome today?”

“You certainly have,” Tang Caidie replied with a nod.

In the past, she would’ve just brushed it off with a smile. But today was different. Lu Liang was the company’s boss, and his fame had skyrocketed, bringing the company international acclaim and tangible benefits.

For instance, when she planned to pick up documents at the industrial and commercial bureau at noon, the director personally delivered them, warmly inquiring if she had encountered any difficulties at work. Similarly, for their upcoming move to the new International Building, the property manager, Yang Weifeng, called directly to ask if they needed any help.

In just one morning, departments that were previously difficult to deal with had all become remarkably accommodating. It was as if she had stepped into a utopia.

Lu Liang chuckled and continued signing the documents. He didn’t bother to remind Tang Caidie about which favors were acceptable and which weren’t. She was perceptive and experienced enough to navigate such matters, often with a hint of sarcasm.

“ofo’s daily active users hit 70,000?” Lu Liang was surprised. As of the 31st of last month, ofo’s seven-day average daily active users reached 70,000.

“The bet agreement is going to be lost,” Tang Caidie replied. The agreement had set benchmarks for 60 days and 90 days. Now, with only 41 days elapsed and 19 days remaining to meet the target of an additional 10,000 daily active users, even if ofo’s management were inept, they could still hit the mark.

“Well, a loss is a loss. We’re in it for the equity gains anyway.”

Gaining control of ofo would’ve been ideal, but Lu Liang wasn’t too concerned about missing it. Dai Wei, in his fierce competition with Hu Weiwei, was recklessly expanding the market.

Currently, ofo had a stock of 13,500 bicycles and owed suppliers approximately 4.8 million in unpaid invoices, with a debt ratio nearing 80%. If this wild expansion continued, Lu Liang would never cover the losses. But he didn’t plan to.

His intention was to sell all his shares at an opportune price, letting someone more capable take over.

Tang Caidie’s eyes showed a flicker of surprise, but she swallowed the words she wanted to say. “President Dai suggested conducting a Series A financing round in mid-next month.”

She had initially planned to advise against further involvement with ofo, as its operating model was unhealthy and unlikely to achieve an IPO. But seeing that Lu Liang had already decided to focus on equity gains, she chose to stay silent.

“Whatever works. Let them decide. I’ll check in when the time comes.”

The two spent most of the afternoon in a question-and-answer exchange.

As evening fell, Lu Liang finished his work for the day. He was just about to invite Tang Caidie and Chen Jinchun out for dinner when he received a call from Wang Xiaocong.

Tonight at 8 p.m. was Li Xiaomeng’s debut on PandaTV. Wang asked if he’d like to come by to check it out and chat.

Lu Liang figured the “chat” was the real motive and agreed. Turning to the others, he said, “You guys go have dinner on your own. I have something to attend to.”

Leaving the office, he drove to Baoshan District. He had been there once before and still remembered the way.

Wang Xiaocong was already waiting at the company entrance. When he spotted Lu Liang’s car, his face lit up with a big smile.

“Have you eaten yet? If not, we can grab dinner first and head over after,” Wang suggested.

“Either way works. Hop in and lead the way,” Lu Liang replied. He also noticed Li Manli, surrounded by a group, heading into the dressing room to prepare for her debut.

She wore her signature outfit—a black-and-white Lolita maid dress beloved by fans—which added to her vibrant charm under the spotlight of her rising fame.

The two exchanged a distant smile and a nod, refraining from revealing their true relationship.

Lu Liang had stressed the importance of maintaining her persona. If fans discovered she wasn’t a rich girl, her fanbase might collapse. It was better to keep their relationship hidden.

Li Manli had been deeply moved by his concern, feeling so grateful that she wished she could dedicate herself entirely to him. Little did she know, Lu Liang wasn’t interested in the modest returns she brought him—he simply didn’t want her to jeopardize his romantic prospects.

Following Wang’s directions, the two arrived at a nearby restaurant. Since they had other plans later, they skipped alcohol and quickly shared a simple meal, agreeing to meet again later in the evening.

During dinner, Wang Xiaocong repeatedly expressed admiration for Lu Liang, saying he had always idolized financial magnates but lacked the talent himself. His previous attempts at investing had resulted in losses, leading him to give up entirely.

Lu Liang chuckled, understanding Wang’s intentions. “Xiaocong, we’re friends and partners. If there’s an opportunity to make money, I won’t forget about you.”

He firmly believed in the importance of shared benefits. By building more allies and fewer enemies, he could secure his position without worry.

Although Wang had a rebellious streak, being the sole heir of the nation’s wealthiest family ensured that the family’s vast network of connections would eventually be his.

Hearing this, Wang Xiaocong was overjoyed. “Brother Liang, tonight I’ll take you to a great place. You can’t say no.”

Both knew the game well. Relationships weren’t altruistic—there was always something to gain.

“Do I seem like someone who’d refuse?”

They exchanged a glance and burst into laughter.

After the meal, they returned to PandaTV, where Li Xiaomeng’s livestream had already begun, drawing over 50,000 real-time viewers.

PandaTV’s 6-million-yuan contract for her over three years wasn’t a loss. Wang logged into his account and showered her with gifts worth millions, making her stream the talk of the platform.

He casually explained the unspoken rules of the industry to Lu Liang: “Every streamer has shills. Without them throwing gifts, the audience won’t follow suit.”

Wang admitted he often gifted streamers lavishly. For gifts exceeding a million, he got refunds, while anything below was his actual contribution.

“So it’s ‘return the rich man’s money but split the commoner’s 30-70,’ huh?” Lu Liang quipped.

“That’s too blunt. Don’t make it sound so crude,” Wang laughed, neither confirming nor denying.

In the backend, Lu Liang could see the revenue from the stream. In just half an hour, gift revenue exceeded 5 million yuan, with 3.5 million coming from Wang’s gifts, leaving nearly 2 million as actual earnings.

“Streaming really is profitable,” Lu Liang marveled. It felt surreal how quickly the money rolled in as Li Manli simply made heart gestures on-screen.

“Brother Liang, how about starting your own stream or joining me for a dual session?” Wang suddenly suggested.

Besides chatting, Wang also intended to use Lu Liang’s influence to promote PandaTV as it approached its Series A funding round.

As a shareholder, Lu Liang’s involvement would help raise its valuation.

After all, last night, Lu Liang had made a killing shorting the yen, raking in tens of millions of dollars and earning the nickname "Eastern Soros." Once the news of his investment in PandaTV was announced, it could easily boost its valuation by hundreds of millions of dollars.

“Let’s do the dual stream, then,” Lu Liang agreed—it was the right thing to do.

As Hu Weiwei had once remarked, an investor who couldn’t bring resources to a company was practically useless.

“Do you play League of Legends?” Wang Xiaocong asked.

“Nope.”

“What do you play, then?” Wang was curious. For someone Lu Liang’s age, it was surprising he didn’t play LOL.

“Recently, I’d say Fantasy Westward Journey and CrossFire, though I haven’t played either in a long time,” Lu Liang replied after some thought. Back in the day, he did enjoy gaming, but when he got married, he sold his Fantasy Westward Journey account.

“Then Fantasy Westward Journey it is. Perfect—it doesn’t require much skill, so we can chat casually and ‘accidentally’ spread the news.”

“Works for me. You set it up,” Lu Liang said with a nod.

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