Chapter 240 Blizzard and the Three Wolves
California, Irvine.
The beautiful beachside resort, under the bright sun and gentle sea breeze, was bustling with countless tourists playing in the shallow waters. Along the shore, rows of stunning vacation villas stood proudly—this was South California's most famous vacation spot and a popular filming location for movies and TV shows.
Standing by a massive floor-to-ceiling window, Yang Yiwen wore shorts, a floral shirt, and a woven hat. She was watching the man across the glass table—a scruffy white guy in a T-shirt and jeans who looked every bit the stereotypical programmer.
The man signed his name carefully on the contract.
—Mike Morhaime.
When he finished signing and looked up, his gaze met Yang Yiwen's.
Yang Yiwen smiled slightly.
"Mike, welcome to Custom. Want to stay and enjoy a vacation?"
Mike glanced out at the sunny beach and laughed, shaking his head.
"Although I'd love a proper vacation, there's still a lot of work waiting for me..."
"True. Anyway, you guys live close enough—you can come anytime."
Yang Yiwen saw him off at the door, then climbed the stairs to the second floor, holding the signed contract.
Upstairs, Qin Si was chatting animatedly with a middle-aged white man.
When Yang Yiwen waved the signed contract at them, Qin Si teased,
"Bob, if you guys hadn't jumped in, Blizzard would have surrendered long ago."
The man named Bob roared with laughter.
"Miss Qin, isn't this better for everyone?"
Yang Yiwen smiled, raising the contract.
"Better? We paid way more. And they even managed to rebrand from Silicon & Synapse to Blizzard during the delay."
...
At this villa, three forces were represented—OCSS (Starsea Tech), Star VC (Star Venture Capital), and Davidson & Associates.
Why had these three groups gathered here?
Because earlier this year, while scanning the market, Qin Si discovered a small game studio called Silicon & Synapse.
Based on her technical assessment and Su Yuanshan's strategic vision, she concluded that this tiny studio was worth investing in.
But just as she made contact, Davidson & Associates—led by Bob Davidson—also swooped in.
Davidson & Associates was a renowned educational software developer, founded in 1984 by husband-and-wife team Bob and Jane Davidson, based in California.
After ten years of growth, they had become a software publishing giant.
Many of Yuanxin's and Starsea's software titles were distributed by them.
With the rapid rise of the internet, Bob Davidson realized that relying solely on physical media distribution would soon become obsolete.
Thus, he began shifting focus to products that couldn't be easily distributed online—like games.
That's how he set his sights on Silicon & Synapse.
Suddenly facing competition from two sides, the founders of Silicon & Synapse were delighted.
As the bidding war escalated, they rebranded themselves as Blizzard and prepared to release a new PC game later that year: Warcraft.
Warcraft, a name that would later define an entire genre.
Blizzard, the snowstorm that would one day take over the gaming world.
As Blizzard's value soared, neither Starsea nor Davidson could sit still.
So both sides turned to their mutual connection—Starsea.
Through Starsea's mediation, the three parties decided to cooperate:
They pooled their money and founded a new game publishing company—Custom.
Strategically, Custom was created to tackle the rapidly growing gaming market.
Its primary competitor would be the now-ascendant Electronic Arts—EA.
And the first thing Custom did after its founding?
It bought Blizzard.
In business terms, it was classic:
Two wolves fighting over a sheep, a third wolf mediates, and they end up roasting the sheep and splitting the meat three ways.
A brutal analogy—but not inaccurate.
From Blizzard's perspective, joining Custom meant gaining access to powerful distribution resources.
Given the tug-of-war, Blizzard also secured a very favorable deal—it was worth selling.
Of course, as a publisher, Custom wouldn't just distribute Blizzard's games.
Its ultimate goal was to dominate global game publishing, with a focus on acquiring and controlling promising studios.
...
"Mr. Davidson," Yang Yiwen said upstairs,
"We have a new authorization.
Yesterday, Yuanxin launched two pieces of computer software on the internet.
Currently, they're using a shareware model.
But given network limitations, they still intend to distribute via physical media."
She pulled another authorization letter from her folder.
"Please help us distribute it."
"OK, another batch of floppy disks," Bob Davidson laughed as he skimmed the document.
"If you keep this up, Davidson & Associates will turn into a floppy disk retail chain."
As a long-time partner of Yuanxin and Starsea, Davidson & Associates had always maintained good relations.
When Starsea decided to distribute their browser via shareware, Kari (Starsea's CEO) had devised a clever plan:
Sell installation disks almost at cost through distribution channels—ensuring users could easily get the software without paying high download fees or dealing with slow internet.
"There's still time to sell," Qin Si said, smiling.
"But once ADSL becomes mainstream, floppy disks will be obsolete."
"Yes," Bob agreed, tucking away the authorization.
"That's why we need to work together while we can."
He stood up and bowed gracefully.
"Pleasure working with you, lovely ladies."
...
After seeing Bob off, Yang Yiwen and Qin Si changed into swimsuits, slathered on sunscreen, and headed for the beach with sunglasses on.
Down on the sand, Tang Wenjie and Chen Haoming were already napping under umbrellas.
"You two are unbelievable," Qin Si said, kicking Chen Haoming's raised foot.
"You just left two gorgeous ladies to fend for themselves?"
"We're not worried—you two are fierce," Chen Haoming said lazily, shielding his eyes from the sun.
"After half a year of nonstop work, we finally get a vacation.
I'm not about to hang around while you two talk business.
Right, Old Tang?"
"Yup," Tang Wenjie said, flipping over with a loud creak from his lounge chair.
"Wife, give me a back massage."
"In your dreams!" Yang Yiwen smacked him playfully.
"Get up and massage my shoulders instead."
"...Fine."
Qin Si laughed and smacked Chen Haoming's arm.
"Old Chen, learn from him."
"Uh..."
"Let him rest," Yang Yiwen interjected, laughing.
"Old Chen's heading back tomorrow to help set up the EM and YXEmail servers.
He's way more tired than my husband."
"Exactly!" Chen Haoming exclaimed, lying back down with a pitiful look.
"My love, I'm really exhausted..."
"...Fine. I'll let you off," Qin Si said, closing her eyes to enjoy her rare holiday.
While those four basked on the beach, Su Yuanshan sat in his office and logged into EM.
As the world's first internet chat tool, EM's features were basic.
Functionally, it was very similar to email—just faster and more casual.
One big difference: digital accounts.
Su Yuanshan's EM number was 10001.
The shortest number, 10000, belonged to his father.
When it came to assigning EM numbers, Pony had racked his brains.
He wanted to distribute critical numbers among Yuanxin's top brass to signal EM's importance.
But how to rank them? That would offend someone, and he couldn't afford to offend anyone.
In the end, he punted the problem to Su Yuanshan.
Not wanting to make life difficult for his subordinates, Su Yuanshan suggested simply reserving all five-digit numbers.
Assign them by department:
11001 for Chen Jing12001 for Xi Xiaoding13001 for Tian Yaoming14001 for Li Yinan...
"I'm not gonna use this number anyway," Su Yuanshan muttered as he logged in and saw only internal contacts.
He immediately logged out and applied for a new number.
Currently, there were three EM servers: one in the capital, one in Hong Kong, one in Silicon Valley—same as YXEmail.
His newly assigned EM number was 102031, meaning roughly 1,000 new users had registered so far.
Only three days after launch, and with Western promotion just starting, that was a decent number.
But Su Yuanshan knew half of those users were probably Yuanxin employees.
"Still a long way to go, Pony," Su Yuanshan chuckled, casually adding a random contact to chat.
He knew that back in the day, Pony had even pretended to be a girl to promote the platform.
After exchanging a few boring messages, Su Yuanshan logged off and returned to designing graphene Hall-effect device fabrication methods.
From last year until now, he had failed over sixty times, accumulating a mountain of failed experiments.
Of course, the failures weren't because of his lack of skill—
they were mostly because the equipment of this era was simply not good enough.
After all, he had fast-forwarded this experiment by ten years.
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