Chapter Twenty-One: A Partnership Forged

Wanlin Hotel, in a concealed private room on the 13th floor.

Wan Cong sat before a laptop, studying the materials Lin Lang had given him.

The plan was ambitious and creative. He could tell at a glance that it was a “social networking app”—an interesting concept, yet the social app market in Huaxia was already well-developed. Was this new app, called “Master’s Words,” truly viable?

Lin Lang seemed to know what he was thinking. Wan Cong, raised in privilege and educated from a young age with the “best” standards, naturally couldn’t grasp the significance this app might hold for those “lost” children.

But Lin Lang was prepared. He stepped forward and pulled up another file from a USB drive.

Basketball Training Program.

Seeing the title, Wan Cong’s interest was piqued. An avid basketball fan, he knew well that the NBA’s strength lay not just in the natural athleticism of its players, but more crucially in its extraordinarily sophisticated training regimen.

From nutritionists to trainers to massage therapists, every step reflected cutting-edge research into the human body, with a technical depth that outpaced other countries by decades. With such a comprehensive system in place, and with young talent continually funneled in from the NCAA, the NBA’s status as a basketball mecca was only natural. No wonder it was the holy ground for basketball enthusiasts the world over.

Driven by curiosity, Wan Cong opened the “Basketball Training Program.”

After a quick read-through, his expression shifted: there was real substance here. The document, true to its name, was a rigorously detailed basketball training plan.

From daily meals to daily training schedules, every aspect was laid out. What foods were best to eat each day, what to avoid, what to consume before and after training. Which days of the week should be devoted to high-intensity workouts, and which to basic skill drills. The methods and timeframes for each exercise.

Everything was explained with painstaking clarity.

There were tailored training plans for players in every position, from point guard to center. Different strategies for various weights, heights, age groups, and muscle-building for specific body parts.

In Wan Cong’s eyes, this document was invaluable.

Especially the mention of a certain herbal bath at the end, said to effectively alleviate post-training fatigue.

If all this was true, the implications for a team—or even an entire country’s basketball development—would be immense.

Wan Cong even felt that this training program was more detailed and advanced than those used in the NBA.

If Lin Lang knew what he was thinking, he wouldn’t be surprised; after all, this was a training plan from the NBA decades into the future.

Only then did Wan Cong raise his head to look at Lin Lang. Gazing into those steady eyes, he thought perhaps this “Master’s Words” social app could indeed succeed.

If Lin Lang could provide such an advanced training plan, he was clearly not here to swindle anyone.

Besides, this basketball program was only a small part of “Master’s Words.”

Perhaps he had underestimated the man.

Wan Cong fixed his gaze on Lin Lang’s eyes and asked bluntly, “So, how do you want to work together?”

Lin Lang smiled. “I’ll provide the detailed plan. You provide the team and serve as angel investor.”

Wan Cong laughed heartily. “Brother, that’s quite the proposal! You give me a blueprint, and I help make your dream a reality?”

Lin Lang’s expression didn’t change in the slightest. Still smiling, he replied, “Why not? Knowledge is power—and wealth. I think you understand the value of that basketball training plan.”

Wan Cong stared at Lin Lang for a while longer, but his calm, deep eyes remained unchanged, as tranquil as the sea—impossible to read.

Then, Wan Cong stood, extending his right hand. “Pleasure to work with you!”

Lin Lang reached out as well, their hands meeting in a firm shake.

Finally, Wan Cong asked, “By the way, how did you know I have three moles on the sole of my foot?”

He was truly puzzled. It was a secret only he knew—not even his parents were aware. Years ago, moved by the love story in “A Chinese Odyssey,” he’d decided to give himself his own “three moles.” He’d even traveled abroad to have them permanently inked on his foot—never to be washed or worn away. No one knew, and he’d never told a soul. So how did Lin Lang find out?

Lin Lang looked at his confused expression and replied with a laugh, “Because you look just like the Monkey King!”

Wan Cong chuckled, letting the matter drop.

Thus, the two men sealed a great partnership.

Both were decisive; Wan Cong quickly had a contract drafted.

Lin Lang would provide the plan and hold 50% of the shares. Wan Cong would invest a hundred million, also for 50% of the shares, but Lin Lang would retain 100% of the decision-making authority.

On the surface, it seemed Lin Lang had the upper hand.

But neither saw it that way, both fully aware that the basketball training plan alone was worth more than a hundred million.

Moreover, Wan Cong’s father had given him a billion in startup capital—he’d only spent a tenth on this.

Wan Cong had a feeling this was money well spent.

The next day, Wan Cong called in a friend who had just returned from Facebook, Li Zecheng.

A Harvard computer science graduate with a childhood passion for computers, Li Zecheng’s technical skills were already impressive by high school. The summer before his senior year, he’d formed his own team and launched a social networking site.

But in the fiercely competitive domestic internet scene, it fizzled out.

During his years at Harvard, he retained a keen interest in social networking.

After graduation, his talent landed him a spot at Facebook.

But with China’s rapid development in recent years, he decided to return home. Within a few months, numerous companies had courted him.

Yet he remained passionate about social networking, though he disliked the philosophies of certain major players—let alone the others.

So when Wan Cong called, he came right away.

Upon learning they wanted to create a social app, his interest was instantly piqued. They arranged to meet at Wanlin Hotel at 2 p.m.

Entering the private room, Li Zecheng spotted Wan Cong and Lin Lang. One look at the calm man, and he knew he was the real driver behind this.

His demeanor left a strong impression—composure always inspires confidence.

Li Zecheng smiled at Wan Cong. “So, what great assignment do you have for me this time?”

Wan Cong grinned and pointed to the laptop on the table. “Take a look—you’ll see.”

Li Zecheng wasted no time, picked up the laptop, and began reading.

His expression shifted from mild interest to mounting excitement, as if he’d stumbled upon a new continent.

Unlike Wan Cong, Li Zecheng was an insider. He’d long studied the social networking sector, and quickly grasped the essence of this plan.

A stroke of genius!

There’s an old saying: “Once a teacher, always a father.” The title of “master” was common in ancient times, but today it’s rare, reserved for those who have reached the pinnacle of their field and taken on apprentices.

The heart of this plan was to foster mentor-apprentice relationships.

First, a website would be created—“Masters’ Words”—covering the majority of modern professions and hobbies, to be expanded and refined over time.

These would be divided into broad categories, then into subcategories.

Each category would have a detailed introduction, allowing users to understand its scope.

Clicking into a subcategory, users could choose either to become a master looking for apprentices, or an apprentice seeking a mentor.

Upon making a choice, they’d upload their credentials or résumé to their personal profile.

If you chose to be a master, you’d showcase your achievements in that field to attract promising apprentices.

If you’re an apprentice, you’d present your talents and dedication in hopes of finding an outstanding mentor.

When both parties agreed, they could apply to form a mentor-apprentice relationship. Once established, it couldn’t be dissolved for a month; apprentices couldn’t leave for another master or take on apprentices themselves during this period.

After an apprentice “graduates,” both parties’ ranks would increase. Only upon reaching certain levels could one have multiple mentors or apprentices.

...

A child raised in elite schools like Wan Cong might see this as nothing more than a mentor-apprentice system.

But Li Zecheng understood its core far more deeply.

Unlike Wan Cong, most people come from ordinary families—Li Zecheng included.

In elementary and middle school, he’d found classmates weren’t so different, merely varying in academic achievement. Every day was much the same: happiness, sadness, life went on.

But in high school, he saw the differences emerge.

People are only truly confident and happy when doing what they love or excel at.

Those who loved basketball were always cheerful on the court.

Gamers in internet cafés, gripping mouse and keyboard, radiated excitement.

The studious ones—top scorers and prodigies—looked at home in classrooms, pen in hand, nose in a book or an exam, their faces composed.

But those who played games or basketball but struggled in class would sometimes sit idle in the classroom, eyes clouded with confusion.

They didn’t know what the future held. Adults said you needed a diploma, an education, to make it in society.

Yet they had neither, and their skills in games or basketball were only slightly above average—not enough to build a future on.

That sense of confusion, of being lost, was most common on the faces of seniors preparing for exams.

Li Zecheng would never forget that look.

Once, in his final year, a transfer student joined his class—average grades, friendly, diligent.

But one gloomy day, on a deserted path after school, Li Zecheng passed him under a dim streetlight.

He saw the boy’s eyes—empty, unfocused, impossible to describe.

Li Zecheng didn’t know if it was pressure or uncertainty about the future.

He couldn’t say.

But there was another classmate whose face always showed confidence and determination.

That boy wasn’t a good student, either, but loved gaming—and he was serious about it.

Whenever there was a holiday or spare time, he’d rush to the internet café. In class, he neither listened nor slept, but would pull out a sheet of paper and start sketching. Once, Li Zecheng saw he’d drawn a map of a game canyon, complete with the locations of bushes and monster respawn times...

Now, Li Zecheng had heard, that classmate had become a famous professional esports player.