Losing Money to Become a Tycoon: Starting with Games
Chapter 389: The First Trainee
After finishing the arrangements, Zhang Wang went to the milk tea shop nearby, ordered a drink, and observed the situation at the Shared Phone Booth while sipping it.
When Ruan Guangjian had been painting earlier, the booth had already attracted quite a crowd. Now that it was officially completed, people immediately couldn't wait to take photos.
To be fair, everyone was quite well-mannered.
They consciously lined up in an orderly queue, taking turns posing for photos with the painted Zadkiel on the outside of the booth.
During the process, some people who had only intended to join the excitement happened to glance through the glass and notice the many new additions inside the booth. Their curiosity was instantly piqued.
"It looks like there's a lot more stuff inside."
"That looks like a drink machine. Is it free?"
"You're dreaming. Ten yuan to get in and unlimited drinks? Of course you have to pay extra."
"There's even a capsule toy machine—and two microphones! What does that mean? Can you sing in there?"
"What's that thing under the foldable seat? I've never seen it before."
"It feels way more loaded than before. Everyone, please make way, I want to go in and take a look."
"Hey, hey, there's a line!"
"Split into two lines! We're not lining up for the same thing. You guys take photos, we'll line up to experience it—no delays for either side."
"Then what about those of us who want both a photo and the experience…"
After a brief commotion, the crowd quickly split into two lines.
One line was for people taking photos with the painted Zadkiel outside, and the other was for those waiting to enter the booth to experience it.
Previously, no one had gone inside because there was simply too little in the booth—nothing much to try.
But now that there were more features, plus the original artwork outside elevating its "cool factor," more people were willing to step in.
People judge by appearances—and the phone booth was no exception.
The first to enter was, as before, a couple.
After all, going in alone would feel rather awkward—not only lonely but also subject to being watched by the crowd outside.
The two happily entered, closed the door, and drew the curtains.
At the same time, people outside saw the small display screen show the remaining time: 15 minutes.
That way, those in line could roughly estimate how long it would take before it was their turn.
Of course, the function still had flaws. For example, it only showed how long the current occupants had left, but it couldn't accurately estimate the total waiting time for the entire queue.
Zhang Wang quietly made a mental note to later introduce a queue-number system or an estimated wait-time feature.
Inside the booth, the couple began exploring their little world with curiosity.
"Oh, we get two free drinks? You can choose cold or hot?"
"And we can sing for free?"
"Wow, when you calculate it like this, 15 minutes for 10 yuan is totally worth it!"
"There's even a capsule toy machine… Too bad the capsule toys aren't free."
"What are you thinking? If capsule toys were free too, the business would go bankrupt."
"Want to sing one?"
"Can we? It feels kind of embarrassing."
"It's fine. None of the mall's noise gets in here, it must be pretty well soundproofed."
At first glance, 10 yuan for 15 minutes had seemed overpriced. But with all the added features, it suddenly didn't seem expensive at all, in fact, it felt like a bargain.
And for Zhang Wang, there was still profit to be made.
The drinks were only complimentary once. Whether customers sang for fifteen minutes or stayed for an hour, they still only got two free cups. If they got thirsty afterward, they would buy more.
Moreover, the cost of the drinks inside the machine wasn't high. Take hot beverages for example: 1,000 grams of instant coffee or milk tea powder could make about 25 liters of hot drink—around 50 cups. That meant each cup cost only about 0.5 yuan. And the more ingredients purchased in bulk, the cheaper the cost per cup.
Even factoring in water and electricity costs, selling a cup for two yuan would still generate profit.
Of course, as for taste, don't expect too much.
Not to mention, the capsule toy machine could bring in additional earnings.
The couple picked up the microphones on the table and found a small box nearby containing free disposable microphone covers. Two were provided free upon entry; additional ones required payment.
The accompaniment music started playing, and the two began to sing.
…
Outside the booth, those still waiting in line faintly heard the muffled sound of music coming from within.
"Huh? They actually started singing?"
"Th-this… how long are they going to sing?"
"Holy crap, they renewed their time! The remaining time just changed to half an hour!"
"…Forget it, forget it. How long are we supposed to wait at this rate?"
Seeing that the couple inside was clearly settling in for the long haul—the display now showing at least thirty minutes remaining—many people who had originally planned to line up and try it out gave up and dispersed.
But Zhang Wang, sitting in the nearby drink shop, felt instantly reassured when he saw this.
If the people who went in had come out quickly, that would have been bad, it would mean the booth wasn't attractive enough!
But now, the very first couple was staying inside for a full half hour. That proved the Shared Phone Booth model itself had no fundamental issues!
The remaining booths would soon be finished and then deployed across major malls in Jingzhou…
Each one would be a long-term money-making machine!
Once all twenty Shared Phone Booths were set up and the investment costs recouped, he would immediately report the good news to President Pei!
…
…
That afternoon, in a taxi heading from Jingzhou Airport to the Shenhua Prestige office building.
A young man opened the author backend app on his phone, created a new chapter, and very skillfully typed two words in the title field: "Leave Notice."
"Going to Jingzhou to attend the First Online Authors Training Camp hosted by Terminal Chinese Web. Taking one day off. Please be informed."
"Also, please vote!"
After typing it out in one smooth motion, the young man put away his phone and casually looked out the taxi window, admiring the scenery of Jingzhou.
A few minutes later, he took out his phone again, opened the Terminal Chinese Web app, and checked the reader comments under the chapter.
"Damn it, I thought this was an update!"
"The Pigeon Spirit is taking leave again? Count how many times you've taken leave this month!"
"It's not even 3 p.m. yet. Can't you just write tonight?"
"Not bad, some improvement. The last few times it was always classmates getting married. I don't know why all your classmates decided to get married at the same time. This excuse is better. Keep it up!"
"Frequent leave-taking is a sign of an unfinished ending. Tell us, are you abandoning this book too?"
"Don't! I just caught up with the latest chapters. It's only 600,000 words, this book is still a baby!"
"Taking leave and still asking for votes—shameless!"
"See this vote? Rip—torn up! Not giving it to you!"
Looking at the indignant comments from his readers, the young man smiled faintly. He was long used to it.
Cui Geng, one of the members of Terminal Chinese Web's author training camp this time, wrote under the pen name "The Tentacle Monster Who Desperately Codes"—a name that was, in fact, the perfect irony.
Usually he maintained a steady "one update per day beast" pace, but whether he broke that streak or took leave depended entirely on his mood. And every time he asked for leave, he would shamelessly ask for votes.
He had already left two or three novels unfinished, earning quite the reputation.
Yet every time he started a new book, the premise was excellent. The early pacing was masterful and gripping. Readers cursed him every time but still couldn't help continuing to read.
Cui Geng sighed silently. "Sigh~ this time I'm telling the truth. I really am attending a training camp. Why won't anyone believe me?"
Among web novel authors, there are the diligent ones and the lazy ones. Cui Geng belonged to the especially lazy type.
Because he lacked motivation.
The year he graduated from college, he first felt the material pressures of the real world. So, with nothing better to do, he decided to write web novels to make a living.
After writing for just half a year, his family's property was demolished and compensated.
Cui Geng loafed around for a while, then once again felt emptiness creeping in. He resolved to turn over a new leaf and properly finish a novel this time—to become famous with a single book.
Then, several more of his family's properties were demolished and compensated.
Cui Geng often lamented that life had a way of playing tricks on people.
I mean, with that kind of luck, who would still feel like writing seriously?
So now, Cui Geng's attitude toward everything was to let fate take its course.
This trip to Jingzhou? He was treating it as a vacation.
He didn't even know what exactly the training camp would teach. But as soon as he heard there was a base salary and that food and lodging were covered, he immediately signed up.
To his surprise, he was actually selected.
It was probably because Terminal Chinese Web didn't actually have that many high-performing authors…
Cui Geng had originally written on the Infinite Chinese Web. But his reputation for abandoning novels wasn't just known among readers, even the editors knew about it. Every time he started a new book, a bunch of old readers would follow him over just to roast him.
Helpless, and not exactly short on money, Cui Geng decided to switch platforms and make a fresh start—so he could "freely express himself" again.
By a twist of fate, he ended up at Terminal Chinese Web, which was relatively friendly toward mid-tier authors.
"I've heard there are quite a lot of fun places around Jingzhou."
"Perfect. This time I can use the training camp as an excuse and properly enjoy a few days there."
"With a legitimate reason for leave like this, readers can't really complain, right?"
"I'm gathering material. And besides, writing is mental labor. Having some fun keeps the mind sharp and the mood pleasant, it helps produce better content."
"Everyone will definitely understand!"
Just as he was thinking this, they arrived at Shenhua Prestige.
Cui Geng got out of the taxi and took the elevator straight to the editorial department of Terminal Chinese Web.
Someone warmly received him and led him to a reception room.
Before long, Ma Yiqun arrived, and the two began chatting casually.
During the conversation, Cui Geng learned that he was actually the first author from the training camp to arrive in Jingzhou, which surprised him a little.
On second thought, it made sense. He had only received the invitation yesterday and had already rushed over today—that was indeed quite fast.
The main reason was that he wanted to start using this leave excuse as soon as possible, which was why he had been so proactive.
After chatting for a while, Ma Yiqun brought over an agreement.
"This is the agreement for the online authors' training camp. Everyone has to sign it."
"Please take a careful look at the details. If everything seems fine, then sign."
"There are a few minor requirements for you all, but don't worry, they're very basic and won't be excessive."
Cui Geng froze for a moment. "Huh? There's even an agreement?"
This was more formal than he had expected.
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