The door swung open, and Old Zhang walked in carrying a stack of printed test reports.
"Lao Fu, the clipping bugs are fixed. The QA team ran through the level three times without any errors. The frame rate is stable at 60, and it doesn't drop even with twenty enemies on screen." Old Zhang slapped the reports onto the desk and let out a long sigh of relief.
"Good work." Fu Zhan handed Old Zhang the printed copy of the North American market research report from the desk. "Take a look at this."
Old Zhang took the report and flipped through a few pages, his brow furrowing.
"Online games? We haven't even sold The Legend of Nezha yet, and you're already onto something new?"
"It's called preparing for a rainy day." Fu Zhan stood up and walked to the window, gazing down at the street below. "Sega's vision is sharper than ours. In North America, they've already started playing games over computer networks. Although our domestic situation is lagging behind, it won't stay that way forever. The Nine-Tattooed Dragon is coming in mid-August, so we need to do our homework in advance."
Old Zhang scratched his head. "The technical barrier for online games is no joke. Server capacity, data synchronization, anti-cheat... We haven't even figured out local area networks yet."
"That's exactly why we need to learn," Fu Zhan said, turning around. "Wrap up The Legend of Nezha and get it ready for the final press. I want you to pull a few people from the project team to form a preliminary research group. We'll start by studying local area network (LAN) connectivity."
Old Zhang rolled the report into a tube and tapped it against his palm. "Alright, I'm with you. But you'll need to handle the Municipal Government. Laying broadband isn't cheap. Without policy subsidies, a small-time boss like us can't afford it."
"Leave that to me," Fu Zhan said, straightening his collar. "I'll head to the Municipal Government tomorrow. We're a major foreign currency earner now; they'll give us some face."
Fuzhou in August was stiflingly hot.
Yet, inside the offices of Mercury Technology, a new storm was brewing.
From single-player to online, from consoles to PCs.
This was a path no one had walked before.
Fu Zhan knew that if they timed it right, Mercury Technology could transform from a mere OEM into a gaming giant with real influence.
The Nine-Tattooed Dragon's distribution network, the Municipal Government's policy support, Sega's technical foundation—the board was set, and the game had just begun.
Fu Zhan sat back down at his computer and created a new document.
He typed the title: Preliminary Proposal for Mercury Technology's Next-Phase Networking Strategy.
The clatter of the keyboard resumed, blending into the noisy street sounds from outside the window.
Two weeks later in Fuzhou, the weather remained sweltering.
Nine-Tattooed Dragon arrived punctually at Mercury Technology's office building, accompanied by an assistant carrying a briefcase. He was a man who valued efficiency and understood the "tech-bro" nature of the team at Mercury Technology. Instead of booking a private room at some grand hotel, he had Fu Zhan bring him directly into the conference room.
The air conditioner blasted cold air, dispelling the summer heat from outside.
Nine-Tattooed Dragon tossed a thick market research report onto the conference table and pulled out a chair to sit down.
"I've spent the last half-month covering Beijing, Shanghai, Guangzhou, Shenzhen, and several provincial capitals," he said, taking a sip of water from a paper cup. "The situation isn't looking good."
Fu Zhan flipped open the report.
"There are shops where you can play computer games—they're usually called 'computer rooms' or 'computer labs' now. But they're few and far between." Nine-Tattooed Dragon pointed to the data in the report. "The vast majority aren't connected to the internet. At best, they've set up a local area network for a few people to play Doom or Dune II together. The latest, Quake, is even rarer. Single-player games are just starting to gain some traction, but they're still far from being widespread."
Old Zhang, who was flipping through a few pages of paper beside them, chimed in. "What about the internet cafe model? According to the data Sega sent over, the internet cafes at Silicon Valley Online in the US are packed every day."
"No chance," Nine-Tattooed Dragon said with a wave of his hand. He picked up a pen and started scribbling calculations on the whiteboard. "I've looked into it. The internet cafe model in the US is built on their network infrastructure. Over here, the cost of installing a single dedicated broadband line is enough to buy dozens of Little Tyrant consoles. Regular dial-up over phone lines is as slow as a snail—you can't even load a picture, let alone play games. If we charge by the hour, a low rate won't even cover the electricity and internet bills. And if we charge too much, who's going to come play?"
Nine-Tattooed Dragon tapped the whiteboard. "Let me do the math for you. A computer with a Pentium processor and a 14-inch color monitor costs around 12,000 yuan wholesale. Ten machines would be 120,000 yuan. And that's not even counting the rent and renovation for the space. What about the network? Right now, the Telecommunications Bureau charges twenty to thirty thousand yuan just for the initial installation of a 64K DDN dedicated line, with a monthly fee of several thousand yuan. Do the math—how massive is the initial investment? And that's without even considering the daily electricity costs and machine wear and tear."
Nine-Tattooed Dragon tossed his pen aside. "Based on current market rates, internet cafes charge ten yuan an hour at most. Even if a machine runs at full capacity for ten hours a day, it only earns one hundred yuan. With 120,000 yuan in hardware costs plus those exorbitant dedicated line fees, the payback period would be terrifyingly long."
He paused, then continued, "Compare that to our game centers. A Mega Drive and a second-hand color TV cost less than two thousand yuan. And Sega is heavily promoting Jupiter right now—we can even buy second-hand MDs through their channels, which is even cheaper. We charge two yuan an hour, and the game cartridges can be shared and swapped between locations, reducing our investment further. We'd break even in just a few months. Even a fool can do this math."
Fu Zhan pushed the documents he'd obtained from the city government across the table.
"I've already checked with the Post and Telecommunications Bureau," Fu Zhan said, pointing to several photocopies stamped with red official seals. "The city's stance is clear. The state is currently focused on the Golden Bridge Project, which is a government-led economic information network. The public Internet is only being piloted in a few major cities. Dial-up services in Fuzhou are just getting started—they're slow and disconnect constantly. As for dedicated lines, those are reserved for large enterprises and research institutes. The approval process is tedious, and the costs are astronomical."
Fu Zhan took a sip of water and continued, "The city leaders are paying close attention to Mercury Technology—after all, we're a major foreign exchange earner now. But infrastructure isn't something the city can solve with a single decree. The backbone network's bandwidth is so limited it can't even support large-scale commercial applications. If we tried to launch an online game now, where would we host the servers? How would players connect? It's a series of unsolvable deadlocks."
Nine-Tattooed Dragon nodded in agreement.
"This business can only take off once internet costs drop and computer hardware becomes more affordable," he concluded. "Until then, making an online game is like throwing money into the ocean—you won't even hear a splash. A niche product can't sustain a company of our size."
With all the information on the table, the conclusion was clear.
The trend was sweeping across the United States, but the soil on this side of the Pacific wasn't ready yet.
"Single-player games are still our core business," Fu Zhan said, closing the report. "The development of The Legend of Nezha cannot be affected. We need to secure our current meal first. But we can't fall behind on the technology. Old Zhang, the pre-research team should focus on Local Area Network (LAN) battles. We need to figure out what the Americans have built so that when the opportunity finally arrives, we're not the ones left behind."