Chapter 8 – Twenty Stores of Madness
By the first week of September 1995, Chen Rui's plan was in motion.
Twenty stores.
Twelve cities.
Zero strategy.
He called it "Operation Bottomless Pit."
Everyone else called it insanity.
The real estate agents couldn't believe their luck.
"Wait, you want the property next to the pig market?" one asked, confused.
Chen Rui nodded. "Yes. The smell drives away foot traffic. Perfect."
Another agent was even more bewildered. "This one floods every summer. The drainage is awful."
Chen Rui leaned forward. "Does the rent go up during flood season?"
"…No?"
"Good. I'll take it."
The new stores opened in cities no one cared about: Hengyang, Loudi, Chenzhou, Pingxiang, Yichun, and even tiny towns that didn't appear on standard maps.
Every store had the same features:
Massive square footage with oversized banners that flapped loosely in the wind.
Shelves stacked with faulty Jinwei-made electronics.
At least one item that violated a safety regulation.
Loudspeakers that blasted awkward slogans like:
"CR-Tech: Slightly Functional, Mostly Affordable!"
"Buy Now! Regret Later!"
"Limited Time Confusion Sale!"
And of course, Chen Rui made sure all the managers were either incompetent or terrified of responsibility.
Within a month, the chaos began.
Store #3 in Pingxiang mistakenly gave out refunds before customers had paid.
Store #7 in Yichun had no working light bulbs. It operated in total darkness for a week.
Store #11 in Hengyang was robbed—twice. But both times the robbers returned the goods, claiming they "didn't work."
Store #14 accidentally ordered 3,000 electric toothbrushes instead of 300. They were all pink and vibrated too aggressively.
Zhang Tao ran out of space on his clipboard trying to document the disasters.
"Boss, this is unsustainable," he said. "Logistics can't keep up. The supply chain is a joke. Staff turnover is 50%. This… this is how a business dies."
Chen Rui sipped his tea calmly. "Exactly."
But reality, once again, refused to cooperate.
A new disaster emerged: popularity.
Store #5 in Chenzhou was featured in a tabloid as "China's Weirdest Electronics Store," attracting curious locals. Store #12 accidentally hosted a high school band performance during its opening, which drew an unexpected crowd and tripled foot traffic.
And Store #20 in a forgotten suburb of Changde went viral—not on the internet, but through faxed newspaper clippings.
The headline?
"Brilliant or Brain-dead? The Man Who Built 20 Failing Stores on Purpose."
The article painted Chen Rui as a mad genius making a statement about capitalism, consumerism, and rural accessibility. Scholars debated his motives. A provincial university even invited him to give a lecture.
Chen Rui almost choked on his dumpling when he read that.
"I'm just trying to lose money," he said to the ceiling. "Why is that so hard?"
Meanwhile, his factory was drowning in demand.
Distributors—real ones—started placing orders. They didn't care about quality. They only cared that CR-Tech had inventory, was cheap, and didn't ask too many questions.
Liu Yan handed him a fresh report.
"Net profit is still small," she said. "But your losses have stabilized. I'm afraid we may even hit positive growth next quarter."
Chen Rui stared blankly out the window.
"Then there's only one path left," he said grimly.
Zhang Tao looked up.
"What?"
Chen Rui's eyes gleamed with suicidal business ambition.
"We're going national."