Frank sat in his office, flipping through the newspapers.
In the past few days, he had received more interview requests than he had in the entire previous year.
The same senior editors who had once treated him with indifference were now desperately trying to pry his home address out of him over the phone.
"These reporters change their tune faster than flipping a page," Frank muttered, tossing the papers aside and taking a sip of his coffee.
Tom pushed the door open, holding a freshly copied issue of the San Jose Mercury News.
"Take a look at this. They're calling you a digital-age real estate tycoon—assigning virtual properties to every American. Some are even predicting that WeBlog will replace traditional community newspapers."
Frank leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples. The past few days of excitement had left him feeling drained.
"They haven't grasped the core of it yet. The media sees this as just a fun diary, but they don't realize what the 'Blue V' truly signifies."
"This means the balance of power is shifting," Tom said, folding the newspaper and placing it on the corner of the table. "Several newspaper editors have already posted on the BBS protesting that we're undermining the professionalism of journalism. Their columnists are lining up to get verified accounts on WeBlog."
This situation posed an unprecedented threat to traditional media organizations. In the past, readers begged newspapers for information. Now, bloggers were directly addressing their audiences.
"It's not just about text," Frank said, pointing at the backend data on the screen. "ICQ, Webdir, and WeBlog—this closed loop is locking users in. The reporters are finally realizing that their vaunted circulation numbers are nothing compared to our click-through rates."
Frank picked up the phone and dialed the PR department.
"Don't bother replying to those newspapers. Let them write—the fiercer, the better. Controversy drives traffic. The more they curse us, the more curious users we'll attract."
After hanging up, Frank looked at Tom. "You think if they knew we planned to start paying GG revenue sharing directly to the bloggers, those newspaper bosses might have heart attacks?"
Tom smiled, saying nothing.
Compared to the media's clamor, Wall Street's actions resembled sharks hunting in the dead of night.
The investment managers who had once queued outside Silicon Valley Online's office now mostly held titles like Investment Director or Senior Partner.
Their sole objective was to snatch as much of the pie as possible before Silicon Valley Online, this money-printing machine, officially went public.
Frank Marshall had been hiding out at Sega North America Headquarters for days.
Outwardly, he claimed to be discussing business with Tom Kalinske. In reality, the two were carving up a pie so enormous it would drive everyone mad.
"Here's the latest stock option allocation plan," Frank pushed a document across the table to Tom. "Those crazy bastards in R&D have been working around the clock for half a month. If we don't show them some real money, the other companies will poach them tomorrow with their checks."
Tom glanced at the figures, tapping his fingertips on the table. "Executive Director Nakayama's instructions are clear: the option pool must be 15%. We need to make sure these core team members become millionaires on the day of the IPO. Only then will they be loyal enough to guard the servers with their lives."
"Fifteen percent is enough," Frank nodded. "That's enough to make them sell their souls to the company."
Just then, the office door burst open.
Donald Valentine of Sequoia Capital barged in without waiting for the secretary to announce him.
"Frank, your business trip needs to end," Donald said bluntly, pulling up a chair. "I know who you're hiding from. Those Goldman Sachs guys have ordered pizza for a week straight down in your lobby, but I don't have time to play games with them."
Frank picked up his coffee cup and took a leisurely sip. "Donald, you should know Silicon Valley Online isn't short on cash. Sega still has a huge pile of cash in its accounts."
"This isn't about money; it's about the ticket to the show," Donald said urgently. "I've seen Weblog's numbers. Three million clicks in three days—no other website in America can pull that off. The Series B valuation is void. Sequoia is willing to offer a fifty percent premium over the original valuation, just sign now."
Tom and Frank exchanged glances, both remembering the bet they'd made with Takuya Nakayama before he returned to Tokyo.
"Fifty percent?" Frank set down his coffee cup with a soft clink. "Donald, your understanding of the Internet is still too conservative. Today's traffic doubled again this morning. Your offer wouldn't even cover the ticket price."
Donald's expression shifted slightly.
He realized that his earlier concerns about bandwidth costs were utterly insignificant in the face of this terrifying surge in traffic.
Sitting on the sofa, Donald tapped his fingers on the box of Cuban cigars.
"Frank, you delayed the funding round when Webdir launched. In the VC world, that's seen as a lack of sincerity. Sequoia is willing to offer a premium only out of our long-standing relationship."
Frank didn't respond. He pulled a freshly printed spreadsheet from a drawer and tossed it onto the table.
"This is WeBlog's first-week financial summary. Don't bother with the whole thing—just flip to the last page."
Donald turned to the final page, and the row of numbers made him freeze.
"GG revenue share—$120,000?" Donald looked up, his voice tinged with disbelief. "Are you crazy? You haven't even turned a profit yet, and you're already paying those diary-writing netizens?"
"It's not about giving away money, it's about sharing profits," Frank corrected. "That blogger, 'Hardware Maniac,' earned $2,400 in revenue sharing this week just from his Pentium processor review. That's more than his bonus as副主編 at the newspaper."
Tom chimed in, "Just now, senior editors from three tech media outlets called asking how to activate the Blue V accounts with revenue sharing."
Donald fell silent.
As a seasoned investor, he sensed the collapse of an established order.
Previously, media outlets controlled content distribution. Now, Frank had moved the printing press directly into users' homes.
He left, citing the need to consult with his shareholders.
The next day, Silicon Valley Online bought half a page in the San Jose Mercury News.
There was no GG language, just a simple leaderboard:
[ WeBlog First-Week Blogger Earnings: Top 10 ]
[ 1st Place: Hardware—Master, Earnings: $2,410.50 ]
Second Place: Tech—Queen, Earnings: $1,890.20
This list hit the California media scene like a bombshell, sending shockwaves through the industry.
Tech enthusiasts who had been on the fence were now completely swept up in the frenzy.
"Can you really earn US dollars writing articles online?"
"Would I get paid for the cat-sitting tips I posted yesterday?"
This raw, profit-driven motivation caused WeBlog's registered user count to double again within 24 hours.
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