Tengying Entertainment

Since he could no longer implement the recharge model, Chen Pingsheng decided not to give up on his fruit business.

After all, he had already figured it out.

Even if he couldn't make massive profits through random multipliers in the future, he could still earn stable, long-term income.

However, plans often fail to keep up with changes.

With the recharge model halted, the previously established management stock allocation plan had to be revised.

This was actually quite normal. Initially, he decided to give 49% of the shares to the management for free based on the recharge model.

If this sounds confusing, let's put it another way.

Imagine opening a store with an initial investment of one million.

Within three months, through promotions and the recharge model, the store accumulated three million in cash prepayments.

After covering the costs, a large portion of that amount was pure profit.

At the same time, the store had also accrued a liability of two to three million from customer prepayments.

A store that had already recovered its costs and had millions in prepayments could afford to allocate shares to the management for free.

But without these liabilities, the store's profit margins would be significantly higher.

Naturally, it would also take longer to break even.

In this scenario, the management could still receive a 49% stake—just that they would now need to buy it based on the original investment amount.

To implement this, Chen Pingsheng held a meeting to announce the changes.

For stores that had already adopted the recharge model, nothing would change.

However, future stores would no longer implement the recharge model, and management would need to purchase shares at the original investment cost.

Recognizing that most of the management team was still young and not particularly well-off, making a large upfront payment difficult, he introduced an alternative.

They could have half deducted from their salaries in advance.

In other words, they could pay half upfront and still enjoy full dividends, with the remaining half deducted from their wages over time.

This was the best possible arrangement he could offer his employees.

The expansion of new stores couldn't stop. If it did, employees would lose opportunities for career advancement, which would severely impact their motivation.

The expansion pace wouldn't be as aggressive as before—roughly five to eight new stores per month.

Given the experience they had gained in the fruit industry, the likelihood of these new stores failing was quite low.

Over the next year, the goal was to expand from the Fourth Ring Road into the Second Ring Road.

If they could establish 100 to 200 fruit stores in Beijing, not only would he gain extensive management experience, but Tengsheng Fruits' annual profits would also exceed the "small goal" benchmark.

So, he kept working toward this goal.

Everything else remained unchanged; business would proceed as usual.

Every month, he would personally invest three million to open new stores.

Other shareholders from the headquarters would contribute another three million, and the store management would do the same.

This investment cycle would sustain the business expansion.

Why not just use the profits?

Firstly, it would be too slow.

Secondly, his wife, Song Yanxi, wouldn't be able to withdraw any profits from Tengsheng Fruits for a long time.

Although the money wasn't much, it could still affect her mood.

That wouldn't be good.

So after thinking it over, he decided to fund it out of his own pocket.

A well-run fruit supermarket could last for decades.

If everything went smoothly, it might even be passed down to Chen An'an in the future.

After finalizing the plans for Tengsheng Fruits, Chen Pingsheng decided to establish Tengying Entertainment Investment Company in the Second Ring Road.

The entertainment industry, backed by his golden finger, was undoubtedly more lucrative than a fruit business without a recharge model.

He was simply following the money.

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October 25

After handling business at Tengsheng Fruits, Chen Pingsheng drove to the Second Ring Road.

Beijing had over 40 film and television production bases, with well-known ones like Bayi Film Studio, Hengdian World Studios, and Putuo Film City.

The largest production base in China, Hengdian World Studios, was located in Zhejiang.

On his way, he picked up a ride-sharing passenger.

In terms of the hottest entrepreneurial ventures at the moment, the internet sector was still king.

In just a few years, some companies had grown to valuations exceeding tens of billions.

Unfortunately, he couldn't even operate a computer properly, let alone start an internet business.

But to keep himself from falling behind, he tried to expose himself to the industry whenever possible.

These days, he was driving a Brabus V-Class, which looked like a large van.

Mostly, it was for the comfort of his pregnant wife.

And at over two million yuan, it was still a luxury MPV with an excellent driving experience.

Ride-sharing, as the name implied, was all about shared convenience.

It was particularly popular among young people and much cheaper than regular taxis.

The 20+ kilometer trip from Shijingshan to the Second Ring's Dongcheng District typically cost 70–80 yuan, or even close to 100 yuan if there was traffic.

But a ride-share?

A flat fee of 25 yuan.

Didi was still in its promotional phase, offering various subsidies.

After discounts, the trip only cost around 10 yuan.

Since he had taken ride-share orders before, he was familiar with the system.

After reaching the designated pickup location, he didn't see the passenger—so he called.

"Hey, I'm here. Where are you?"

"I'm under the tree. I don't see your car, though."

The voice was pleasant and youthful—likely a young woman.

"The big black car with hazard lights flashing—hard to miss."

"Wait… that giant black van is you?"

Bai Xin was momentarily stunned.

She wasn't some fresh-out-of-school girl—she was a top student from Beijing Film Academy.

There was no way a Brabus V-Class would be out doing ride-sharing.

This was the go-to luxury van for top-tier celebrities.

It was obvious—this was a high-end chauffeur sneaking in some private gigs.

The only question was: Who was his boss?

Bai Xin, true to her name, was fair-skinned and beautiful.

She wore tight blue jeans and a white jacket.

With Beijing's temperature hovering around 10+ degrees Celsius, most people were already wearing coats.

Instead of sitting in the front, she settled into the second row.

Chen Pingsheng asked, "Are you heading to the film city for a shoot?"

"Yeah. And Uncle, I already know you're just a driver."

Bai Xin blinked her long eyelashes, looking quite cute.

Her meaning was clear: Don't even think about flirting with me, Uncle—I don't fall for chauffeurs.

Chen Pingsheng chuckled awkwardly. "You've got it wrong—I'm actually in the entertainment industry too. We might even be colleagues."

"You? In entertainment?" Bai Xin's eyes lit up. "Wait, your boss isn't some big star, is he?"

"Zhao Liying. Ever heard of her?"

"Her?" Bai Xin was surprised. "That doesn't make sense… She struggled as an extra for years. Only recently did she land a lead role thanks to an investor. One of her low-budget TV dramas unexpectedly became a hit after airing on a regional channel."

"But unfortunately, regional channels have limited reach. If that drama had aired in Beijing or on a major network like Hunan TV, she might have skyrocketed to fame. Now she's working on a historical drama, Legend of Lu Zhen."

So, she was indeed from the industry.

"Uncle, since you're her chauffeur, you must know her investor, right?" Bai Xin asked curiously.

Chen Pingsheng smirked. "Why? You want him to invest in you?"

"Of course not. I just heard he's an outsider in the industry with a good reputation—at least he doesn't treat actresses like his personal toys."

Chen Pingsheng asked, "So… in your line of work, is it really that easy for investors to sleep with actresses?"

Bai Xin shook her head. "Not always. But unless an actress can guarantee high ratings, they usually have to 'give something' to secure a lead role."

"Uncle, don't be jealous of the entertainment industry's beauties. It's not as glamorous as it looks."

Hearing this, Chen Pingsheng instinctively clenched his buttocks—the entertainment industry was ruthless.