Chapter 151: Spider Software Technology Company

After signing the contract with the so-called French company and receiving the payment, the agreement officially took effect, severing any ties with the Qu Purchase Supermarket.

Mr. Sena’s shell company transferred its shares to Su Mu, who then signed several contracts directly with Mr. Sena himself. Unlike Han, who was illiterate in legal matters, Su Mu made sure to have his parents present to sign the contracts as guardians.

Two million dollars were swiftly deposited into the company account. Mr. Sena, a minor shareholder holding 14.5%, took the initiative to reassure the suppliers and publicly announced that the company was now jointly managed by himself and Su Mu, with no connection whatsoever to Han.

Displaying considerable savvy, Sena leveraged the promise to double procurement volume within six months as a bargaining chip, signing supplementary agreements with buyers that stipulated payment for goods within three months of receipt. This arrangement benefited both parties, resulting in mutual satisfaction.

Han’s lazy relatives were promptly dismissed, and within just two days, Qu Purchase Supermarket was back on track. Su Mu stepped to the forefront, declaring himself the majority shareholder. His mother continued managing the warehouse, while the much-rumored troublemaker who had plagued Han’s wife, Qian Helberg, was granted a three-month probation period.

Su Mu had known Helberg for some time, and Mr. Sena was ruthless—he warned Helberg upfront that if she failed to increase Qu Purchase Supermarket’s turnover by 120% within a quarter while reducing costs, someone more capable would be brought in to manage the company.

Now, with three supermarkets in operation and two more soon to open, achieving a 120% increase in turnover across five stores was no small feat.

But Helberg was unfazed; turnover was just a number. With a few more large-scale promotions, performance would improve. After all, who said shopping seasons had to begin after Black Friday?

Most of the funds in Su Mu’s hands had been taken by Han, and Sena’s financing was used to pay off debts. In reality, the company’s account still held little cash, but with current sales volume, there was no concern over liquidity.

The three of them spent a long time together, planning the company’s development for the next six months. Their goal was to expand the number of supermarkets to fifteen by year-end, capture key cities throughout California next year, and then expand throughout the United States.

They would need another round of financing to open ten more stores within half a year. Neither Sena nor Su Mu objected, each preparing to seek investors individually.

Qu Purchase Supermarket gained an additional building, conveniently located near the Du Zhong family’s residence. This time, Su Mu obtained funds from Penguin Company, of which ten percent belonged to Li Ping’an.

They decided to purchase the building privately, treating it as a dividend from Penguin Company and gifting it to Li Ping’an, along with additional cash compensation. Li Ping’an had been informed and agreed, though the formalities had yet to be completed.

Poor Han, who had just moved, was soon forced out again. Nevertheless, with over four million dollars in hand, he had no trouble buying property elsewhere and didn’t mind much—just puzzled over how Sena and Su Mu could collaborate so effectively.

Later, when he heard that Qian Helberg had taken over as general manager, he finally realized he had been outmaneuvered. At that time, Han and his family had already departed for England to rest for a few months before considering a fresh start.

With his affairs settled and ample funds in his account, he was in no rush to restart his business. His initial enthusiasm had dwindled significantly after acquiring over four million dollars.

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Within just a few days, the employees forgot about Han because once Helberg took charge, she not only raised their wages but also secured medical insurance and other benefits.

The choice was obvious.

Mr. Sena received a major order and hurried to Atlanta. After spending a few days at home, Su Mu waited for the supermarket to stabilize before driving to the Silicon Valley area again.

Time quickly reached June.

The weather in Menlo Park had grown hot. The San Francisco Bay filled with tourists swimming or sunbathing on the beaches.

With no worries holding him back, Su Mu prepared to resume his studies. His wealth was growing daily. The well-meaning but somewhat naïve Li Zhekai invested four million dollars, acquiring 15% of Qu Purchase Supermarket’s shares.

As a result, Su Mu’s stake dropped to just over 70%. He planned to use the funds to open five more supermarkets simultaneously, purchase three delivery trucks, and lease logistics warehouses.

Penguin Company remained the same, marketing to merchants, schools, and enterprises while expanding phone-order customers. Their profit in May reached one million dollars.

A little-known company quietly emerged in Menlo Park, bearing an even stranger name: “Spider,” formally known as “Spider Software Technology Company.” Su Mu thought the internet should be like a web connecting people, much like a spider’s web.

He was admittedly naïve. Immediately after registering the company, he regretted it, realizing women might dislike the name, potentially driving away some users. However, since the billboards and products were already designed, he was too lazy to change it and decided to make do.

Penguin Company’s logo was a chubby penguin with a little belly, which Miss Blake adored and approved instantly. Spider Software’s logo was a red spider that looked quite cool.

James gathered six alumni, three of whom were still students. One was his university professor, who planned to work part-time during breaks.

This professor, in his thirties, had just become a father to quadruplets—all boys. With a high cost of living and a small house, he had no choice but to earn extra income.

Stanford University had a relatively open atmosphere and did not impose strict rules on faculty entrepreneurship, so many professors capitalized on their expertise to prosper.

On the afternoon of June 2nd, James assembled everyone. Among them was a programmer Su Mu knew—he had helped James and Li Zhekai develop software for their joint company last year and was a friend of James.

They didn’t rent a separate office. Penguin Company leased an entire floor with plenty of unused space, which they simply refurbished to start operations. On the wall near the elevator entrance, the full English names of both Penguin Company and Spider Software Company were displayed.

The company sold computers, so Su Mu equipped the office with ten top-of-the-line new IBM machines and installed network cables. Standing before the seven programmers, he clapped his hands and smiled:

“All right, today we’re just getting to know each other. We’ll officially start work tomorrow. There’s no rush to complete the software immediately, but we must strive for perfection.”

A Stanford professor named Marze raised his arm, pushing up his glasses, and asked, “Sorry, but I don’t know what kind of program you want to develop. I asked James, and he didn’t know either. We’ve signed nondisclosure agreements already—can you tell us now?”

He emphasized “nondisclosure agreements,” as if skeptical of the need for secrecy.

Su Mu closed the office door himself and replied, “Sure. I want to develop a highly practical email service that anyone can register for, allowing them to send files or images to friends and family.

“That’s the general idea. Let’s discuss what features it should have to be user-friendly and widely accepted. Feel free to say anything. Spider has an open atmosphere; it’s just you and me.”

Email had already existed; it was successfully attempted as early as 1969. The ARPANET, funded by the U.S. Department of Defense’s Advanced Research Projects Agency, gained prominence largely because of email.

Email fostered communication among internet users, aligning perfectly with Su Mu’s entrepreneurial vision. He believed the internet should facilitate easier human connection. One day, traditional mail might be completely replaced.

James, Professor Marze, and the others exchanged glances and laughed together.

Su Mu asked curiously, “What’s funny?”

“Well... Professor Marze participated in building the ARPANET. We all have email accounts. Your idea is very simple—I thought it would be something extraordinary, but it could be done in half a month.

“There are about 30,000 people worldwide using email. I don’t think they’ll abandon their existing accounts to switch to our product,” James said, somewhat speechless.

Before, every internet user at their computer operated in isolation; with the advent of email, users began to interact more.

Su Mu was puzzled, wondering if such a simple idea had much promise—or financial potential.