Reaching the age of thirty, my income randomly doubled

The employees at the group were still bustling about, and Zhang Wanyi had specifically traveled from Guangzhou to Magic City.

Chen Pingsheng asked her what brought her here this time, and Zhang Wanyi replied that the acquisition of Clothes Warehouse No. 9 was preparing for its IPO.

The valuation was set at 16 billion, and the IPO has already been successfully completed.

Chen Pingsheng didn't bother with such minor matters; he had long since sold all his shares in Clothes Warehouse No. 9 to Teng You Media.

Now, the listing was merely a way to recoup the funds spent on the original acquisition.

As facts have proven, in times of uncertainty, the best model is the combination of traditional business with influencer-driven economy.

Clothes Warehouse No. 9, deeply tied to Teng You Media, had undoubtedly become a resounding success.

It had reached the milestone of preparing for its IPO.

Besides reporting on the IPO, Zhang Wanyi briefly talked about the current short video trends.

Teng You Media has already signed contracts with 180,000 influencers.

Only a very small portion of them actually become top influencers; most are guild artists.

What does that mean?

It's essentially turning on beauty filters, setting up a phone, yelling "Thanks, big brother," and earning money from gift rewards.

Such a revenue model was something Chen Pingsheng had always despised.

It always felt akin to online begging, providing some so-called emotional value in exchange for others' gifts and tips.

To put it bluntly, this is all due to the abundance of fools—just turn on the tenth level of beauty filters for a fifty-year-old lady and you'd be calling her "sister."

Chen Pingsheng initially planned to abandon this sector, but not a single shareholder agreed.

The main reason was the high profit margins; they hardly had to lift a finger, as guild commissions alone were enough.

The high performers could even climb their way up step by step.

Over time, there were at least 170,000 to 180,000 beauty filter streamers on their platform.

The profits these people brought in were quite remarkable.

Joining a large guild like theirs certainly came with plenty of benefits.

An 80 billion IPO itself is considered very high, yet who would've expected it to outpace Tengying Entertainment.

Tengying Entertainment had already dropped to the edge of a trillion-dollar valuation.

Meanwhile, Teng You Media had climbed to 1.4 trillion.

The indisputable first stock of the influencer-driven economy—Chen Pingsheng himself no longer oversaw those minor businesses below.

Any project worth a few billion or up to several tens of billions could be decided independently by the CEO.

He had implemented exceptionally high levels of delegation within the company.

Zhang Wanyi had brought not only updates but also a major plan this time.

She proposed leveraging Teng You Media's resources and cash to empower traditional businesses.

She suggested establishing Teng You Investment Fund, primarily to invest in top-performing manufacturers.

Her ambitions were considerable, and naturally, Chen Pingsheng had no objections.

After all, Teng You Media's nearly 10 billion annual profit figures were no joke.

Plus, with Clothes Warehouse No. 9's IPO, if they could successfully manage the investment fund, the stock price might even hit 3 trillion.

In comparison, the entertainment industry had truly declined.

A movie can be summarized in five minutes on short video platforms—who would want to spend two hours at a cinema anymore?

Additionally, with their artist commission models, it's not an exaggeration to say that many first-tier celebrities earn less than mega influencers.

For Tengying Entertainment to maintain its trillion-dollar valuation has become quite challenging.

Who would've thought that after all these years, the most promising listed company in his portfolio turned out to be Teng You Media—the one he barely paid attention to?

This example alone demonstrates that when trends align, even pigs can fly.

Ride the wave with your business, and you can climb step by step into the clouds.

As for how many companies he currently owns, even he couldn't keep track.

Whether it was Dream Fund or the soon-to-be-created Teng You Investment Fund, not to mention his financial ventures on Wall Street,

they were all stretching their hands into various industries.

Chen Pingsheng said, "Wanyi, you haven't disappointed me one bit these past two years, even surpassing my expectations."

"Chen, you're the one who mentored me. Once I'm out there, I naturally won't let you down."

"Once Clothes Warehouse No. 9 goes public, I'll propose to the board to award you a personal cash bonus of 100 million."

A hundred million would be the largest cash bonus among this year's group of CEOs.

And this is on top of the stock option incentives.

It should be noted that while Zhang Wanyi did earn an annual salary of over 10 million, she hadn't gained much equity in the past.

That was during Teng You Media's booming IPO phase.

According to her CEO contract, once Teng You Media's stock price hits 1.6 trillion,

she would receive 1% of total equity.

If it accidentally reaches 3 trillion, then things would get interesting.

She would receive a 1.5% equity incentive.

The approximate market value for that would be 45 billion—earning this kind of money as an employee would truly make her the "queen of workers."

Of course, they were just one small step away from achieving their initial target.

If she secures that 1%, it would equate to earnings of 16 billion.

Reaching this level as an employee was already the ceiling.

This was also her main reason for continually expanding Teng You Media's management verticals.

The success of Clothes Warehouse No. 9 could drive up market capitalization, and if similar investments could do the same,

then she truly had the potential to attain that 1.5% maximum equity incentive.

That would cement her place as the "queen of workers," surpassing Bai Xin.

Bai Xin's foothold in the entertainment industry was clearly less promising than the current short video landscape.

Chen Pingsheng said he'd consult the board, but in reality, it was entirely up to him.

This bonus wasn't something that could be issued simply as dividends or regular pay—the tax implications would be too steep.

They had long had a top-tier financial team managing this stuff—the funds just needed to pass through external channels, and 100 million would remain 100 million in hand.

Don't think of it as shameless; this is standard practice for major companies.

Otherwise, transferring 100 million would result in nearly half being lost to taxes, a scenario no company could accept.

This is what they called lawful tax avoidance, a common financial maneuver among major corporations.

Tang Jing, for her part, was envious beyond words—there was no helping it; as a junior secretary, her foundation was still too shallow to even dream of becoming a big shot.

Meanwhile, Zhang Wanyi had long achieved financial freedom and was now advancing to a higher class.

She wouldn't be stepping down anytime soon, and Bai Xin had rushed over from Capital City to learn from her.

The entertainment industry truly had become difficult to operate in—the collective stock price decline among listed companies in the sector spoke volumes.

The general trend was irreversible. Even though Bai Xin had begun experimenting with short video product sales, it barely managed to stem this year's losses.

If she couldn't discover a new vertical to restore confidence among shareholders or investors,

Tengying Entertainment's market value dropping below a trillion was just a matter of time; holding that line was impossible.

Across the entire group, the short-video domain was Teng You Media's strongest performer.

Annual profits nearing 10 billion—it was beyond astonishing.

Was it truly astonishing though? Amid massive industry-wide losses, it stood out as a singular success story.

Chen Pingsheng glanced at the financial reports briefly; unsurprisingly, most numbers showed significant declines.

He remained indifferent—such setbacks mostly affected smaller enterprises.

Opening his laptop, he prepared for the second wave of long-term investments.

His current capital scale was suited for industry-level investment, rather than enterprise-level.

Typically, his investments focused on long-term gains.

Short-term trends were meaningless to him, and he certainly wasn't like those who toss money in and obsessively check daily fluctuations.

Right now, he held only 1% of Tesla, 3.5% of Douyin Group, and 5% of NVIDIA.

Judging by current trends, the short-video economy had reached a certain plateau.

Everyone could see it clearly now; diving in further no longer held much significance.

With the downturn in real estate prices, the nation's strategic direction had shifted to industrial advancement, with a core emphasis on supporting electric vehicles and the entire supply chain.

The market trends from the past two years made this abundantly clear—he had started investing here five years ago.

As for the next decade, it would belong to AI and smart technologies.

He had already invested over 70 billion in cash into this sector, along with his NVIDIA stake anchoring his position.

With the tens of billions still at his disposal, he planned to scout for more industry stocks.

Maybe, just maybe, he could strike it lucky again and land another Tesla or NVIDIA-level winner.