Chapter Five: How to Make Quick Money

Haizhou Hotel.

The four of them sat in a private room that felt especially empty, made worse by the table’s enormous size; if they spread out, they’d have to shout to be heard. So, they simply sat close together: Li’s father, Li’s mother, Li Mu, and then Chen Wan.

Chen Wan was in high spirits, mostly because she’d shed a heavy psychological burden. After a thorough examination, it turned out Li Mu was indeed fine—apart from the scrape on his forehead, which slightly marred his youthful good looks.

Li’s parents hadn’t wanted Chen Wan to go to the trouble of treating them, but she insisted it was only right, and Li Mu had agreed with such self-assurance that they couldn’t refuse and simply went along.

Thankfully, Li’s mother had thought ahead: while Li Mu waited for his test results, she had gone home to fetch him a clean set of clothes. Thanks to her, Li Mu now looked presentable, sitting beside Chen Wan and bantering playfully with her.

“To be honest,” Li Mu declared, “after being hit today, I feel my mind working sharper than ever! My English grades used to hover around ninety to a hundred, but now I think I could score over one hundred and twenty.”

“Really?” Chen Wan’s wide eyes nearly popped out.

Li Mu nodded. “Really.”

“Don’t shoot your mouth off!” Li’s father scolded with a laugh. “If you don’t get one hundred and twenty, just wait and see how I deal with you!”

Li Mu replied earnestly, “Dad, if I don’t score one hundred and twenty, I’ll have no face to walk through our front door.”

“Don’t say that,” Li’s mother hurried to add. “Son, it doesn’t matter how you do on the exam. You’re my only child.”

Li’s mother was sincere, and Chen Wan struggled to suppress a smile, her cheeks flushing bright red. Li Mu sighed, “Even my own mother doesn’t believe me. Fine, we’ll see when the college entrance results come out.”

Li’s father promptly made a promise: “If you get one hundred and twenty in English, I’ll buy you a laptop!”

In those days, any laptop cost about ten thousand yuan—nearly as much as Li’s father made in a year.

Li Mu knew their family’s savings likely didn’t even amount to that much.

Having been a programmer for over a decade in his previous life, he naturally longed to have a computer of his own. Yet he couldn’t bear to ask his parents for one.

In fact, Li Mu had already made up his mind. Not only the laptop, but also his first year’s tuition and living expenses for college—he intended to earn it all himself during the summer.

So Li Mu declared with conviction, “Dad, you don’t need to buy the laptop. I’ll earn the money myself this summer.”

As a man reborn, if he couldn’t make that much in a summer, he’d truly be letting the heavens down.

But his words left the others dumbfounded.

In 2001, state enterprise workers with good benefits earned just over a thousand yuan a month. How could a high school graduate hope to make ten thousand in two months?

Faced with three pairs of eyes full of disbelief, Li Mu’s tone remained serious. “I’m not joking. I’m confident I can do it.”

Chen Wan couldn’t help but ask, “Li Mu, I’m really curious—how exactly do you plan to earn enough for a laptop in two months? I bought one earlier this year, and it was over twenty thousand yuan.”

She wasn’t showing off—just reminding Li Mu that boasting was easy; living up to it was another matter.

“No need to worry about that,” Li Mu replied with confidence. “I have a plan.”

His words brimmed with self-assurance, but once he thought about it calmly, his heart sank.

In 2001, the internet was still in its infancy. No one could have guessed how it would evolve—except Li Mu. And no one could foresee the future of internet and mobile tech—except him.

That was why he dared boast in front of his parents and Chen Wan.

But thinking it over, Li Mu realized that while making money online wasn’t hard at this point, making it fast was another matter.

hao123, which would one day be valued in the tens of millions, had already been founded in 1999 and run for over two years, building a solid foundation. Even so, it would be three more years before Baidu acquired it. If Li Mu started a navigation site now, it would take at least a year or two to catch up, and there was no fast money to be made.

Tencent QQ already had millions of users. Even if he could develop a superior alternative, coding it alone would take half a year, given the immense workload; then, there’d be no money for promotion. By now, Tencent was already taking shape, and Pony Ma was a master of imitation—Li Mu couldn’t compete. No fast money there either.

It wasn’t just QQ—many other future software ideas were out of reach. Li Mu didn’t even have a computer, and even with a top-of-the-line machine from the future, every line of code would still need to be typed out, and operations and promotion would take years to bear fruit—still no quick returns.

Even if he copied Cai Wensheng and registered a batch of double-pinyin domain names to sell after 2005, it wouldn’t be easy. Cai Wensheng was already on a registration spree, dictionary in hand. The only names left were trendy terms like “Weibo,” “WeChat,” and “Taobao,” which didn’t exist yet—still, no fast money.

Every project Li Mu could think of required years to hatch, but he’d given himself just two months.

After his bold declaration, Li Mu was left feeling utterly exasperated.

He wondered: if he were to make a list of keywords for the world of 2001, what would come to mind?

Bush’s inauguration, the 9/11 attacks, joining the WTO, winning the Olympic bid, the national soccer team qualifying, NetEase’s suspension, the internet bubble…

Thanks to the passage of time, only major world events came to mind—mostly international affairs, none of which offered much chance to make money.

As the others ate, Li Mu sat, frowning in deep thought.

He sensed he was missing something—something crucial, yet just out of reach.

At that moment, Chen Wan offered him an out: “Honestly, a computer isn’t all that useful for studying. No need to buy one so soon. Right now, all anyone does with a computer is go online or play games.”

“Games?” The word lit up Li Mu’s eyes like a switched-on bulb.

How could he have forgotten the key—games!

Excited, Li Mu seized Chen Wan’s left hand in his right, gripping her soft, delicate fingers and shaking them enthusiastically. “Wan, you’re absolutely right!”