Chapter One: The Pyramid Scheme

2015.

Autumn.

Qu Liqing City.

In the LC District, inside a dilapidated residential building.

Within it, there was one particularly large room, perhaps fifty or sixty square meters, its floor covered with cheap, low-quality tiles. A blackboard still hung on the wall, and dozens of student desks were arranged in rows, making it look like some kind of cram school.

Seated behind these desks were dozens of adults, each dressed in their own unique way.

On the podium stood a young man in a blue suit and glasses, exuding the air of a so-called “pseudo-intellectual.” He held a teaching pointer and gesticulated energetically in front of the blackboard. “This is not pyramid selling. Pyramid selling is a business model strictly prohibited by the state. How could we possibly be involved in that? What we practice is direct selling. Direct selling was introduced from abroad in May 1998 as an advanced sales model.”

“Our company operates international, state-of-the-art production lines, our product technology leads the way in Europe, America, Japan, and Korea. Founded in 2004 with a registered capital of thirty million, we increased it to two hundred million a year later, and now it has reached over ten billion, with annual revenues in the hundreds of billions. Since our inception, we have imported advanced network direct selling models and the principle of market multiplication.”

“The direct selling model means products are delivered directly from the manufacturer to the consumer through a single agent, bypassing traditional logistics, wholesale, and retail, and all the saved expenses are awarded to you, the agent. This way, the state, the manufacturer, the consumer, and you, all of us, become beneficiaries.”

“The principle of market multiplication is: you bring in two people, each of them brings in two more, and so on—from one to two, to four, to eight, to sixteen, to thirty-two, and if this pattern continues, even if each person only recruits two, you will eventually have a massive network beneath you…”

“The company’s operating method—the Three-Merchant Strategy.”

“You may have some doubts, but we have solid evidence.” The lecturer in the blue suit spoke passionately, then clicked open a PowerPoint presentation on the computer.

The PPT was projected onto a screen so that all the trainees could see it clearly.

“Look, look at this—an official government document regarding Qu Liqing City's new direct chain sales initiative. Our industry receives official support.” The man in the blue suit, glasses flashing, shouted fervently as he waved a newspaper in his hand. “See, this newspaper was issued by the Kun Riyue City government, and the headline is about supporting the development of our new chain model in Qu Liqing City.”

“This new chain model exists in only a handful of regions nationwide.”

One by one, dubious documents, many stamped with official seals, were presented.

“We’re ahead of ninety-nine percent of people in the country in adopting this. That’s why we can get rich early. When everyone in the country joins chain sales, there will be no more fortunes to be made.” The man in the blue suit and glasses spoke with deep emotion. “I started early too, and now my annual salary is three million. My supervisor above me makes ten million a year.”

More government documents, more official seals, mention of new districts, astronomical incomes—these claims left the audience stunned, overwhelmed by the barrage.

Seeing their reactions, the man in the blue suit was even more animated, saliva flying as he spun his tale, making it sound ever more magical.

...

Among the dozens seated below, most had become entranced by this pyramid scheme lecturer’s promises.

The only one who still seemed clear-headed was a young man in the back row, about one meter eighty tall, with striking features and a determined gaze.

His name was Shen Ye.

A recent university graduate.

He had graduated from a little-known technical college called Yangning Vocational and Technical Institute—so obscure that hardly anyone had heard of it. To make matters worse, he had majored in Chinese.

In other words, he had collected every possible disadvantage for finding a job.

He had graduated last year and become unemployed immediately, searching for work for over two months, but found nothing.

Eventually, he received an offer for a “management trainee” position at a factory. At first, he was excited—management trainee, after all, sounded prestigious and impressive.

But after asking around, he discovered that “management trainee” was just a fancy way of saying they’d toss new graduates onto the production line.

To study at university only to end up as a factory worker—what was the point?

He rejected the offer outright and continued his job hunt, but still found nothing.

At that point, his former roommate, Gao Zi, called from YN, saying he’d found a job there and needed more people, asking if Shen Ye wanted to come—the salary was five thousand.

At that time, Shen Ye would have taken a job for two thousand, let alone five.

Without hesitation, he bought a train ticket to Kun Riyue City, then transferred by bus to Qu Liqing City, going from one transfer to another until he finally arrived at his friend’s place.

Gao Zi, the old classmate, came to meet him. Gao claimed to be some kind of manager, but the shirt he wore was obviously bought from a street vendor, which immediately aroused Shen Ye’s suspicion. When they arrived at Gao’s place, Shen Ye found it was in a shabby, crumbling old neighborhood in the LC District of Qu Liqing City, with a living space equally run-down, the floor tiled with those cheap five-yuan-a-piece tiles.

That evening, they went to a nearby small restaurant, ordered five or six stir-fried dishes, and a few others who claimed to be Gao’s superiors joined them, supposedly to welcome Shen Ye. Throughout the meal, they tried to persuade him, claiming this was a pilot zone for some new government project.

The next day, “classes” began.

By that time, Shen Ye was no fool; he realized he’d been tricked by his old classmate into joining a pyramid scheme.

He wanted to leave immediately.

But this organization had more than a dozen burly men, all muscular and thickset. Everyone was constantly watched, making escape impossible.

Soon after, Shen Ye’s ID card was forcibly taken by one of these men, who also confiscated his phone, cutting off all contact with the outside world.

At the entrance of this old dormitory building hung a heavy lock, and every window was covered with wire mesh—escape was out of the question.

And so, Shen Ye found himself trapped within this pyramid scheme.

He now faced two choices.

The first choice was to resist to the end and refuse to be brainwashed. But after witnessing a fellow university student named Song Peng get beaten half to death for refusing to cooperate, Shen Ye didn’t hesitate to make the second choice—pretend to be fully brainwashed, even taking notes on the lecturer’s points, feigning deep fascination, in hopes of lulling the organizers into letting their guard down so he could escape. But the organization was too strict; after three months, he had yet to find even the slightest chance to get away.