Chapter 47: The Five Great Sects
After finishing his sentence, Old Tan suddenly pointed to the doorway. “Look, do you know who that is?”
Zhuang Chen turned to look. The man seemed very familiar, as if he’d seen him on TV—probably an actor, but his name lingered just out of reach.
“Ren Quan, the one who played the young Judge Bao,” Old Tan prompted him. “He’s been out of the entertainment world for years. Made his fortune early on with a chain of hot pot restaurants, and now owns companies like Miaopai, XiaoKaShow, Star Wardrobe, and Handu Clothing.”
“In 2013, he partnered with the country’s top agent, Wang Jinghua, to set up the investment fund Jiuzhou Jianyuan. Last year, I heard he participated in the D round of 360’s financing—claimed to be a billion. The golden pretty boy, no less!”
As nine o’clock approached, more people entered the venue. The two men stood up. Old Tan took it upon himself to introduce Zhuang Chen to the crowd—anyone he singled out was a heavyweight, a renowned figure in the industry.
“That’s Wang Xiao—every time he shows up it’s with tanned skin and thick glasses. If you talk to him, you’d better listen closely: he speaks in clipped words and his pace just gets faster and faster, as if saying one extra sentence is a waste of his life…”
“Next to him is Wu Shichun. He’s famous for his sharp opinions, but his mouth can’t keep up with the thoughts racing through his head—he stammers and mutters. Those two, along with five others, all came out of Baidu.”
“No surprise, they’re techies—always coding, tinkering with products, acting as CTOs, with that cool, indifferent look. After Baidu went public, they cashed out and turned to investment—one distinct faction.”
Zhuang Chen nodded. Where there are people, there are cliques. The past decade has been all about the internet economy; the major giants are worth hundreds of billions, and even a mid-level executive is a billionaire—nothing too surprising.
“That over there is Huang Mingming, one of Alibaba’s Eighteen Arhats. Angel investors who left Alibaba prefer to stay behind the scenes, strategizing and advising. Most keep a low profile.”
“Next to him is Wang Gang, the man behind Didi. Whether it was taking on Dahuangfeng back in the day or merging with Kuaidi, he always strikes with precision, keenly sensing market shifts.”
“That group likes to back entrepreneurs who came out of Alibaba. Wu Yongming invested in Song Xiaocai, whose founder Yu Lingbing also used to work at Alibaba. Li Zhiguo invested in Mogujie; its founder Chen Qi was with Taobao Mall…”
Following Old Tan’s introductions, Zhuang Chen sized up the scattered clusters of people nearby—distinct factions, clear as day.
“When it comes to the Penguin bigwigs, there are two circles: the Antarctic Circle and the Solo Penguin Club. Ex-Tencent employees formed the Antarctic Circle to keep sharing resources even after they left.”
“Leaving Penguin and turning angel investor is almost a rite of passage. The angels from there held all sorts of roles at their old company—no single job type—because Tencent’s business lines are so wide and varied.”
“That chubby guy is Zeng Liqing, one of the ‘Penguin Tigers.’ He likes to back gaming and entertainment apps. He’s got a foul mouth and average people skills…”
“See those guys just coming in? The ‘Wild Wolves’ from Huawei, notorious for their wolf culture, calling themselves the off-the-books corps.”
“The leader is Zhu Bo. When he started Innovation Valley, he was all for student entrepreneurship, targeting downmarket users, and keeping himself in a hungry-wolf state by relying solely on returns from his investments.”
“Wang Lijie, nicknamed the ‘poorest angel,’ also likes to run small funds, putting in just tens of thousands each time, betting small for big returns, and getting in at the earliest stages.”
“The one with the small eyes is Wu Shichun—he’s been at both Baidu and Huawei, and is notorious in the circle for his speed; they call him the ‘Fast Wolf.’”
Old Tan let out a contemptuous snort. “A lot of these guys are just playing around—good at fooling the newbies, but when they run into the old hands, they’re finished. It’s all about getting to know faces, shooting the breeze, and bragging over drinks.”
“Besides the four main factions, there’s the Kingsoft crowd—famed as the Huangpu Military Academy of venture capital, the Chinese version of the PayPal Mafia. The boss, of course, is Lei Jun.”
“He came out of Kingsoft, created his own Lei Jun network, and now controls listed companies like Kingsoft, Cheetah Mobile, YY, and Xunlei. But the real crown jewel is that unicorn worth tens of billions—Xiaomi.”
“Most of the big names aren’t here tonight—busy people, dragons never fully reveal themselves. But if we’re talking net worth, you, my friend, are…”
Noticing the frown on Zhuang Chen’s face, he quickly stopped. “Understood, understood. Looks like almost everyone’s arrived. Shall we go make some introductions?”
Following Old Tan, they mingled among the various groups. Tan had a wide network—wherever he went, people treated him with respect. When they heard Zhuang Chen was a member of the Chang’an Club, they were all the more courteous. Everyone chatted, laughed, and exchanged business cards—everything was harmonious.
These were seasoned players—knowing more people means more opportunities. In the investment world, having money is just the entry ticket; to really thrive in China, connections are everything.
Old Tan led the way, while Zhuang Chen followed at ease, saying little, keeping things brief, and maintaining an air of mystery. Listening to the chatter—heroes, villains, fools, and legends—it was all rather entertaining.
When Zhuang Chen headed to the restroom, Old Tan let out a long sigh of relief. Serving a big shot was exhausting. His eyes drifted toward a pair of long legs he’d been eyeing all night—tonight, he would enjoy himself.
“Old Tan, who’s that guy?”
“Yeah, he looks impressive, but I’ve never seen him before…”
Two flamboyant women sidled up, looking for a chance. Old Tan glared and whispered, “Keep it down, that’s a real heavyweight!”
“A senior member of the Chang’an Club, drives one of only 499 limited-edition Ferraris. The rest you can guess for yourselves!”
The two exchanged glances—was he really that powerful?
Old Tan appraised them, half-smiling. “So? Tempted?”
“If either of you can please this gentleman… heh heh…”
When Zhuang Chen came out, Old Tan hurried over, not caring in the slightest that he was dropping the aloof demeanor he usually maintained. Money talks—please the money, and if you lose face, just call in a few young models to make up for it. Simple as that.
Grabbing some food, they sat down again to eat and chat. Old Tan grinned, “With your status, you don’t need to bother with these little guys. At most, just get to know their faces—say hello, and that’s it.”
He paused, then couldn’t help but probe, “Any plans I should know about? Want me to do some digging?”
Zhuang Chen put down his chopsticks, wiped his mouth, and said offhandedly, “No grand ambitions for now. The waters here are too murky. Let’s just watch for a while.”
“I’m thinking of starting a fund for fun—throw in two or three hundred million to test the waters. Got to keep busy somehow.”
Show-off, Old Tan thought, beaming wider than ever. “No problem—if you need anything, just give me a call, I’ll handle it right away!”
Zhuang Chen clapped him on the shoulder, as if remembering something, and said seriously, “You’ve got the connections. Help me find a few top talents. Once the company’s up and running, you’ll have a stake. We’ll have some fun together.”
Old Tan’s face lit up, and he pounded his chest, promising to get it done. With business settled, he glanced slyly at the long-legged women and smirked, “Anyone catch your eye?”
Zhuang Chen looked around—everyone was in evening gowns, exuding the air of wealthy ladies. Quite a few wore black silk stockings and gold-rimmed glasses, dressed as career women. Whether they were genuine or not, they put on a convincing act.
He shook his head, uninterested. These women were all too slick—once involved, they’d be hard to shake off. Better to call Song Qiao—a few tens of thousands would solve the problem. Black stockings and office looks? Plenty of secretaries and assistants could play that part.
Old Tan was a bit disappointed not to find more in common with his benefactor, but he was also impressed. Though young, Zhuang Chen was calm, low-key, and possessed a rare inner discipline that commanded respect.
No one here was foolish—the real test of character comes with time and adversity. A casual meal was just a way to get acquainted; the road ahead was long, and hurrying things only made them harder.
Besides, with Zhuang Chen’s connections—almost divine—it was best to abandon any ulterior motives early on. Staying on his good side could be far more profitable. Who knew what the future might bring?
After seeing Zhuang Chen off, Old Tan watched the Bentley disappear into the distance. He drew a deep breath, patted his crotch with a wicked grin, regained his usual swagger, and strode back into the venue with pride and confidence.
You… you… and you…
Tonight, you’re coming with me!