Chapter Sixty: Standing on the Shoulders of Giants

The Su family’s courtyard house was located in Qingshui Well Alley. Along the way, Aunt Zhou began preparing Cheng Xiaoyu for what was to come. Although today’s incident had not escalated too much—and it was fortunate the other party had gotten what they deserved—this was already the second time Cheng Xiaoyu had caused trouble. For Su Changqing, who always held himself to strict standards, this was simply intolerable.

Cheng Xiaoyu could only nod and promise, “I won’t hit back if I’m struck, won’t retort if I’m scolded, and I’ll sincerely acknowledge my mistakes and shortcomings.”

Aunt Zhou sighed, “Don’t stir up trouble again. If you do, even I won’t be able to help you.”

Cheng Xiaoyu could only nod silently. He couldn’t shirk responsibility, nor could he say that if the other party hadn’t tried to make a move on Su Yuxi, he wouldn’t have caused such a scene. This should have been a simple matter to resolve, but his impulsiveness nearly made it unmanageable. He himself suspected that it was only because Su Yuxi was involved that he became so furious. I am not obsessed with my sister, I am not obsessed with my sister, I am not obsessed with my sister, he silently repeated to himself. He had to remind himself not to act impulsively again.

When Cheng Xiaoyu arrived at the Su family’s courtyard, stepping up the high threshold, Su Changhe, who was waiting at the door, called him to the east wing.

The room was elegantly furnished, all antique-style redwood furniture—though Cheng Xiaoyu couldn’t distinguish what kind of redwood it was. His heart was uneasy; as someone of humble origins, he had only ever seen officials of Su Changqing’s rank on television. Aunt Zhou’s warnings made it clear that he would not escape criticism and education today.

Su Changqing was seated behind his desk, reading materials, with his secretary, Wu Fan, standing by.

When Su Changqing saw Su Changhe enter with Cheng Xiaoyu, he said to Wu Fan, “Xiao Wu, you can go home for today.”

Wu Fan bowed, replied, “Yes, Minister,” filled Su Changqing’s cup, picked up his briefcase, greeted Su Changhe, and exited.

Cheng Xiaoyu glanced up quietly, taking in Su Changqing in his gray Zhongshan suit, seated behind the cloisonné lamp—a typical square-faced man, stern, his thinning hair combed back. He wore gold-rimmed glasses, his lips pressed tightly together, exuding the authority of someone accustomed to command.

Su Changqing capped his fountain pen, tapped it lightly on the desk, and looked solemnly at Su Changhe. “Changhe, the fact that you have an illegitimate son hasn’t been reported to the old master yet, hasn’t been entered in the family registry, and you haven’t changed his surname. Bringing him to see the old master in this manner is thoughtless.”

“I’ll speak to the old master myself. Thank you for handling today’s matter, big brother,” Su Changhe replied, frowning. Then he turned to Cheng Xiaoyu, “Go thank your uncle, then head out for dinner.”

The oppressive atmosphere weighed heavily on Cheng Xiaoyu, who was about to speak when Su Changqing looked at him and said, “Don’t be so hasty. Just because your father acknowledges you doesn’t mean you’re part of the Su family. You’ve spent more than ten years in America, your grades are poor, you lack proper upbringing—I don’t blame you for that. But since you’ve chosen to return, is it so hard to behave yourself and avoid trouble? What right do you have to act as a playboy? Your surname is Cheng, not Su.”

Su Changqing’s voice was flat, but the warning stung Cheng Xiaoyu deeply. Could he defend himself? The truth was, his shortcomings were real, and aside from a bit of musical talent, he was otherwise useless. He wanted to leave in defiance, to refuse entry to this household, but he knew he lacked the standing to do so. Besides, such behavior would only further embarrass his father and Aunt Zhou.

Su Changqing looked at Cheng Xiaoyu—plump and fair—and noticed the magazine poking out of the mesh pocket of his backpack, its cover indecent. He felt even more annoyed, thinking Su Changhe had been reckless in hastily bringing him home. An illegitimate son, nothing more; if he were exceptional, perhaps it would be acceptable, but such mediocrity was best left outside—it was unnecessary to grant him the Su family name.

Su Changhe’s expression was grim. “I haven’t been strict enough with him. Big brother, this is my fault. I’ll teach him properly from now on.”

Su Changqing sighed, “Changhe, you know the old master’s heart isn’t good. You already aren’t favored by him, and now you want to bring someone even more aggravating to see him? I think you should let Cheng Xiaoyu stay at a hotel for now. After the New Year, I’ll find an opportunity to discuss it with the old master. For now, let things stand as they are. There’s no meal reserved for him here; you handle his arrangements yourself.”

Su Changhe’s face paled. “Big brother, I’ll explain things to father myself. It’s the New Year—I can’t leave Xiaoyu alone outside. I already owe him too much.”

Su Changqing shook his head, his voice cold. “You owe him much, and you owe the family little? The family has already tacitly accepted his existence; he’s not lacking for anything. Why bring him home and let others laugh at the Su family? If he were self-motivated, it would be different. When has the Su family ever had such a wastrel? If you tell the old master now, with his temperament, do you think he’ll ever be entered into the family registry or welcomed into the Su family?”

Cheng Xiaoyu felt a mix of emotions, realizing that being a playboy was not as comfortable as he'd imagined. He didn’t want to spend another moment in this somber courtyard. He mustered the courage, “Dad, it’s fine. I can stay at the hotel. I’m used to it after all these years.”

Perhaps Su Changhe also felt ashamed, for he turned and walked out. Cheng Xiaoyu bowed to Su Changqing, “Uncle, I’m sorry for troubling you.”

Su Changqing sat behind his desk, eyes on his papers. He didn’t look at Cheng Xiaoyu again, nor did he intend to engage.

Cheng Xiaoyu wasn’t angry—he had little sense of belonging to this family anyway. He simply turned and left. Yet he still felt guilty, knowing it was his father, Aunt Zhou, and perhaps even Su Yuxi, who suffered most.

Crossing the threshold, Cheng Xiaoyu felt for the first time that he needed to prove something—not for himself, but for those who cared about him. His life had already failed once; he could not afford to fail again.

Su Changhe waited at the door, refraining from criticism, saying softly, “Come, we’ll stay at a hotel. It’s better not to live here. Wait by the door while I let Aunt Zhou know.”

A surge of emotion rose in Cheng Xiaoyu’s chest. “It’s not necessary, Dad. I’m fine staying alone.”

Su Changhe patted his shoulder. “You did well on your exams. I’ve read your poems. There’s more than one path in life; choose one you love and follow it with determination. Then I won’t have failed your mother.”

Cheng Xiaoyu didn’t know how to reply, so he simply nodded in silence.

Su Changhe told him to wait at the door, and this time, Cheng Xiaoyu couldn’t refuse his father’s quiet care.

When Su Changhe emerged, wearing a black coat, the two hailed a cab to a nearby, decent hotel. Father and son remained silent throughout the ride, exchanging no words. Luckily, Beijing’s cab drivers were talkative, so the atmosphere wasn’t awkward. Cheng Xiaoyu’s exchanges with the driver amounted to three phrases: Oh, really? Impressive!

Neither father nor son had any intention of heart-to-heart conversation; they each took a room and went straight to sleep. Cheng Xiaoyu had indeed suffered quite a bit that day—not only was he exhausted, but his body ached. In the shower, he saw the swollen red marks on his back and could only pity himself. He lay down to rest, and when he awoke, it was already morning.

Checking his phone, Cheng Xiaoyu saw it was past ten o’clock. There was an unread text from Su Changhe, telling him to spend the day on his own.

Cheng Xiaoyu was not fragile, nor did he feel abandoned. Rather, he felt relieved—not having to face those unfamiliar, not-so-warm people.

After washing up and getting ready, Cheng Xiaoyu called Wang Dongliang. Wang Dongliang wasn’t a native of Beijing but from Hubei Province. This year, he had to stay on duty at the company and hadn’t returned home. After yesterday’s lecture, Cheng Xiaoyu was more eager than ever to do something, so he called Wang Dongliang right away for a meeting.

Wang Dongliang naturally treated Cheng Xiaoyu with deference, unaware that Cheng Xiaoyu was merely a peripheral figure in the Su family. This morning, when he went to pick up his car, the police were respectful, telling him the vehicle had been sent for repairs at the dealership, and he’d be notified when it was ready—no payment required. Wang Dongliang subtly inquired about the fate of the Zheng family, and as Cheng Xiaoyu had said, they’d gotten their comeuppance. This made Wang Dongliang believe the Su family had vast influence.

Cheng Xiaoyu, bored, waited for Wang Dongliang at the Starbucks near the hotel. Most people were on holiday now, and the usually congested streets of Beijing were clear. Wang Dongliang arrived quickly in his Volkswagen. Spotting Cheng Xiaoyu at the window, he parked and hurried over, calling from afar, “Young Master Yu, up so early!”

Cheng Xiaoyu, preoccupied, didn’t bother with pleasantries and went straight to the point. “I asked you here today mainly to find out: I want to set up a website. Where should I start?” In his previous life, Cheng Xiaoyu had never dealt with internet companies and was almost clueless in this field. He hadn’t had time to study it recently, so he was frank and direct.

Wang Dongliang assumed he just wanted to dabble in websites and chuckled, “That’s easy. You can start by registering a domain and hosting online. Just tell me what kind of content you want, and I’ll have our site engineers help you set it up.”

Cheng Xiaoyu was surprised, “So you don’t need any special procedures or qualifications to start a website? No approval from relevant departments?”

Wang Dongliang, not daring to gloss over matters, explained carefully, “If it’s just a non-profit website, the investment is small—about five office devices, some AS, register a domain and hosting online, then upload your site. You just need to use your ID card for a registration record, like the filing numbers you see on many sites. It’s that simple. But if you want to run a commercial site—advertising, downloads, membership centers, information hosting, all sorts of value-added services—then you need to operate as a company, because individuals aren’t allowed to engage in these internet activities. The registered company must have at least one million yuan in capital, three graduates in design, programming, and network management, an office lease contract, company charter, capital verification report, and so on. You also need a feasibility report for your business direction, payment and service standards, all clearly documented. First, register with industry and commerce, set up a network technology company with one million yuan capital, then get an operating license from the local communications authority.”

Only then did Cheng Xiaoyu realize it was far less simple than he’d thought. He pondered and asked, “How much is Miaopu worth now?”

Wang Dongliang felt his heart skip a beat, growing serious. He thought, “As expected, he only deals in big business,” and replied, “It’s hard to estimate exactly, but at least forty or fifty million yuan. The site’s traffic and user activity are high, but there’s no good profit model; it relies purely on ads and is running at a loss. If you want to buy it, Young Master Yu, I wouldn’t recommend it. Websites are money pits. They look glamorous, but everyone hopes a big company will take notice and buy it for a good price. Honestly, running a website is not as good as making games.”

Cheng Xiaoyu thought Wang Dongliang was honest and reliable, though he wasn’t sure if this was his nature or simply the effect of being under pressure. He smiled, “I don’t have the funds to buy such a big website like Miaopu. I’m just asking to get a sense of things. Actually, what I’m interested in is the Alumni Directory.” He didn’t bother to conceal his intentions.

Wang Dongliang was a little surprised, “That Alumni Directory belongs to Skinny Fox Network. It’s always been operating at a loss; as data grows, server maintenance costs keep rising, but there’s nearly no income. I’ve heard Skinny Fox wants to shut it down. Buying it wouldn’t be useful—it’s a hot potato for Skinny Fox, hard to keep, hard to get rid of. It’s not that they don’t want to drop it, but the negative impact would be huge.”

Cheng Xiaoyu knew well the fate of such sites; the details might vary, but the general trend was always the same. Things destined to disappear inevitably decline—like opera, which, despite being highly valued now, remains unpopular and its audience is shrinking rapidly. Or the largest film manufacturer in China, Seagull, which is said to be facing a financial crisis; if they don’t decisively shut down their film business, Kodak’s fate will be theirs. And Nokia—Cheng Xiaoyu intended to watch Nokia’s downfall to see if technology really had inertia. He also knew that if Miaopu continued as a forum, it would gradually slide from glory to obscurity. Thinking of this, he felt uneasy again—another sunset industry was the record business. After MP3s and social media fully developed, the record industry would quickly become obsolete. Cheng Xiaoyu realized his life as a rich second generation might not last much longer, and a sense of urgency rose within him.

The Alumni Directory might be a hot potato for Skinny Fox, but for Cheng Xiaoyu, it was a treasure trove. In his previous life, Zuckerberg started from Harvard’s alumni directory and grew into a giant. If Cheng Xiaoyu could acquire China’s Alumni Directory, with its vast data, and launch a social network akin to Facebook or Weibo, his future would be boundless.

His mind made up, Cheng Xiaoyu took a deep breath and said to Wang Dongliang, “Brother Liang, help me get information on the Alumni Directory. I’m very interested in this website.”