Chapter 27: Parting Ways

“The total downloads have exceeded half a million.”

After calculating for a while in front of his laptop, Zhao Kang gave Li Mu the latest figures.

Li Mu smiled. “It’s probably time to get in touch with the people from Abe Plugin.”

With that, he sat down before the computer and opened his “Never Give Up” QQ account.

Throughout the night, Sun Peng had tried adding Li Mu as a friend over a dozen times.

With a simple click on “Accept,” a new friend appeared in Li Mu’s list—a manly, brooding avatar labeled “Great Roc.”

This was the first friend added on Li Mu’s alt account.

At that moment, Sun Peng was gnawing a Chinese crepe for breakfast. Everyone else was still resting in the neighboring apartment. These night owls typically kept American hours, and Sun Peng had only woken early because he was restless, anxiously waiting for “Never Give Up” to accept his friend request.

A sudden notification jolted Sun Peng. He immediately tossed his breakfast aside, opened the chat window, and quickly typed: “Hello, I’m the manager of Abe Plugin. I’d like to discuss potential cooperation.”

Li Mu replied: “Aren’t we competitors? What’s there to cooperate on?”

Sitting at his computer, Sun Peng marveled at the arrogance in this guy’s words.

Nonetheless, Sun Peng patiently responded, “Dinosaur Overlord is a fantastic plugin, but you can’t possibly keep offering such a good one for free, can you?”

Li Mu: “Didn’t you see the free trial lasts fifteen days?”

Sun Peng: “Yes, but what happens after the trial? How do you plan to efficiently sell the plugin in bulk? Direct sales or a monthly subscription?”

Li Mu: “How I operate doesn’t concern you, does it?”

Sun Peng: “I have a sales channel that can handle over thirty thousand monthly subscription codes each month. I’d like to work with you. Interested?”

Li Mu: “You say thirty thousand, but is that a fact?”

Sun Peng: “Last month, we already sold that much. If not for Dinosaur Overlord, I was aiming to hit forty thousand this month. It’s summer break—player numbers are surging.”

Li Mu: “So you want to resell Dinosaur Overlord for me?”

Sun Peng: “In a sense, yes. I want to be the general distributor for Dinosaur Overlord. If you price it at fifteen yuan, you’d net six per sale.”

Offering Li Mu six yuan per sale was Sun Peng’s conservative estimate. Previously, with Abe Plugin at fifteen yuan, his own cut after the distributor chain was a mere eight yuan gross. With so many mouths to feed, he figured two yuan per sale was already generous.

Li Mu: “Can you pay in advance?”

Sun Peng hesitated. Advance payment was his dream, but his sub-agents always insisted on post-sale settlements, money trickling up the chain. If “Never Give Up” wanted advance payment, things would get tricky—he’d have to front the cash, then wait for his distributors to pay at month’s end.

This month, Abe Plugin’s target was forty thousand sales. Given Dinosaur Overlord’s massive downloads, if they started charging now and rode the summer surge, fifty thousand sales wouldn’t be a problem. At six yuan per copy, he’d need to lay out three hundred thousand in cash up front. And what would his profit be? Only two yuan per unit—just a hundred thousand for fifty thousand sales.

A hundred thousand was good on its own, but there was still his team to support—staff salaries, two crews, office rent, living expenses, all adding up to tens of thousands a month. After splitting with two other shareholders, he’d be left with just over ten thousand himself. For a little over ten thousand in profit, he’d have to put up three hundred thousand each month—how was he supposed to make that work?

Sun Peng replied, “We can’t do it—profit margin’s too thin, and we’d have to front too much cash. It’s not even enough to keep the team going. We’re two combined plugin crews—maybe you’ve heard of Chiyu and Abe?”

Li Mu: “Your two teams are both developers, right? If you buy my plugin, what do you need tech staff for?”

The question stumped Sun Peng.

Indeed, if he stopped developing plugins, what would he need the current crew for? To drag him down?

Li Mu continued, “Are the sales channels personally under your control?”

Sun Peng: “Yes.”

Li Mu: “How about this—one million, and I’ll sell you the program and all the source code. You can do whatever you want with it. If your sales channel is as strong as you say, and you move thirty or forty thousand copies a month, you’ll be making at least a hundred to two hundred thousand monthly. You’ll recoup your investment in half a year.”

Sun Peng was stunned.

He did a quick calculation.

From his perspective, selling fifty thousand copies of Dinosaur Overlord a month would be no trouble. If he bought it and sold through his channels, he’d keep eight yuan per sale—four hundred thousand a month.

And that was net profit!

He’d be free of the two teams’ baggage, no more development headaches or investment, no more getting dragged down by people like Jia Bei. Solo, he could clear four hundred thousand a month—after six months, he’d be rolling in it.

Almost at once, Sun Peng felt the weight lift from his shoulders. He trembled with excitement and asked Li Mu on QQ, “Can you go any lower? I don’t have that much cash.”

Li Mu: “No discounts. You have three days to think it over. You’re not the only one looking to buy this plugin from me.”

Sun Peng: “Can you leave a phone number? I’ll contact you when I decide.”

Li Mu: “Contact me here on QQ.”

Li Mu closed QQ. Zhao Kang looked at him as if at a deity. “Do you think he’ll really agree to a million?”

Li Mu considered. “Probably not. He likely doesn’t have that kind of money.”

After running this industry chain for nearly two years and reaching a turnover of ten million, Sun Peng still had a team to support and shareholders to pay. After all this time, he probably hadn’t even made five hundred thousand himself.

Li Mu’s guess was spot-on. Sun Peng did the math—after all his efforts, he’d only made around four hundred thousand so far.

And it was only in the past two or three months that business had really picked up, only to be crushed by Dinosaur Overlord.

Still, having worked on Stone Age plugins for so long, Sun Peng had immense, even blind, confidence in the game. He thought a million was high, even outrageous, but deep down, he believed if he bought it for a million, he could recoup his investment within a quarter.

So the question became: where to find a million?

Sun Peng wasn’t born into money—otherwise he wouldn’t be in this business. He had about four hundred thousand; even if he begged his family, they could scrape together maybe another hundred thousand at best.

It seemed his appetite was there, but his financial teeth weren’t.

He thought of his other partner—the one from before Jia Bei joined. Roughly estimating, that partner should’ve made two hundred thousand or so recently, and his family could probably contribute a bit too. If they pooled their resources and bargained with “Never Give Up” to get the price down to eight hundred thousand, maybe the two of them could swing it. Just the two of them—no one else.

Sun Peng quickly made up his mind. He trusted this partner, who had always been obedient, unlike the uncontrollable Jia Bei.

He closed QQ, lit a cigarette, and walked over to the neighboring unit they used as a dormitory, waking everyone up.

With everyone’s eyes on him, Sun Peng sighed deeply, stubbed out his cigarette on the floor, and said, “Guys, I’ve decided to quit.”

“What?” Everyone except the two partners was stunned.

Though they’d sensed this day approaching, it was still hard to accept. They hadn’t gotten rich, but a few thousand a month was still much better than most white-collar jobs. If they disbanded, it was all over.

Some had hoped Sun Peng and the two partners would pony up some money to keep everyone afloat a little longer.

At this moment, Jia Bei burst out angrily, “Screw it, I’m out too! What’s the point anymore? I’ll go home for a while, and if a new game comes out, maybe I’ll try again. But Stone Age? Forget it!”

A techie who’d always followed Jia Bei said gloomily, “The guy behind ‘Never Give Up’ is just too skilled. Now that he’s entering the plugin market, there’s no way he’ll stick to just Stone Age.”

“Damn it!” Jia Bei cursed. “He’s just trying to put us all out of business! I refuse to believe it—can he really monopolize this whole industry?”

Sun Peng waved him off. “Enough with that. Let’s settle up. Since we’re parting ways, let’s do it cleanly. Wages for this month—we three partners will cover it, calculated by the day through today. We’ll vacate these two apartments by the end of the month. As for the computers, those who followed me from Chiyu can take theirs as severance. If you know how to code and have a machine, you can always do something else.”

Each assembled computer was worth four or five thousand. Even considering depreciation, they could still sell for two to three thousand each. Electronics didn’t lose value too quickly in those days, so this was a fairly generous gesture.

Hearing this, the Chiyu guys relaxed. At least they got something out of it—Sun Peng had done right by them.

“The Chiyu crew gets computers, but not my Abe guys! We barely made any money at all,” Jia Bei protested. He’d only joined recently, hadn’t made much, and his three subordinates’ machines were almost brand new, only a few months old and could fetch over ten thousand if sold.