socalfunplaces Chapter 452 Ling Yun Closes the Net
Chapter 452 Ling Yun Closes the Net
The press conference was scheduled for 10:00 AM on Tuesday in the multi-functional hall on the first floor of Xinghuo's headquarters building in Jinan High-tech Zone. The hall isn't large, seating about 200 people, and is usually used for internal commendation meetings and quarterly reports. Four rows of folding chairs were added today, but it still wasn't enough. Latecomers had to stand shoulder-to-shoulder in the aisles, their recording pens held high above their heads. In its six years of operation, Xinghuo had never held a press conference like this before.
The invitation was sent out the night before, less than twenty hours in advance. The content was simple: "Spark Group will hold a press conference at its Jinan headquarters at 10:00 AM tomorrow to announce the latest progress of its mobile chip and smartphone projects. President Ling Yun will personally preside over the event."
There was no specific content, no background information, and not even a press release. Most reporters were already at home preparing to rest when they received it, but after reading the brief, they quickly got up to call the editor-in-chief to confirm the schedule. The next morning at 7:30, there was already a line outside the multi-purpose hall.
When Ling Yun entered, he wasn't wearing the dark gray Zhongshan suit. He had changed into a black turtleneck sweater with a dark blue suit jacket over it, the sleeves of which were about half an inch longer than his wrists.
This outfit was a new purchase from An Shiyu. After Ling Yun put it on, he would habitually tug at the cuffs, doing so every few steps. Zhao Hu followed behind, carrying not a briefcase, but a 30-centimeter square aluminum alloy case—a silver-gray case with reinforced rivets on the corners, without any company logo, only a handwritten white serial number label, and the case handle was worn shiny.
At exactly 10 o'clock, the stage lights were turned up one notch. Ling Yun walked to the front of the stage, without a speech or a host to read the opening remarks. He placed his hands on either side of the stage and leaned slightly forward.
"Let me show you something first."
After he finished speaking, he turned to the side and nodded to Zhao Hu. Zhao Hu stepped forward, placed the aluminum alloy box on the podium, and unfastened the buckles on both sides with two crisp, short clicks.
The box was opened, revealing a black foam padding with over twenty neatly arranged chips embedded within it. Each chip was about the size of a fingernail, gleaming with a dull metallic sheen under the light. Zhao Hu gently removed one with his thumb and forefinger and held it up to the camera. A magnified close-up appeared simultaneously on the LCD screen—the chip's surface was etched with the Sparkle logo and a number.
Ling Yun picked one up from the box, placed it in his palm, and spread his fingers so that everyone could see it clearly.
"This is StarCore. It's a mobile processor chip independently developed by Qilu Microelectronics, a subsidiary of Spark Group. It features an ARM9 core, a 400MHz clock speed, and integrates a 2D graphics accelerator, memory controller, and USB controller. It's manufactured using a 0.18-micron process—starting today, it's already in mass production at Chartered Semiconductor in Singapore, with a monthly capacity of 12,000 wafers. The first batch of mass-produced chips will be officially shipped in StarPhone 1 next month."
He paused for a moment after speaking, placed the chip back in the pad, picked up a remote control from the podium, and pressed a button. A video popped up on the big screen—a cleanroom in a Singapore wafer fab, where workers in white protective suits were operating etching machines, and robotic arms were rapidly moving along conveyor belts with wafers in their grip. The scene then switched to a testing lab, where the waveform on the oscilloscope was steadily fluctuating, and the screen of a StarPhone engineering prototype next to it was lit up, with the StarPhone OS logo on the desktop glowing steadily, without any screen flickering, shaking, or any sign of instability.
A chorus of camera shutters clicked from the audience. A reporter in the second row muttered, "Didn't they miss the deadline?" The person next to him replied without turning his head, "Do you believe that or this?"
"I know there are some rumors circulating," Ling Yun said, placing the remote control on the podium and glancing around the room. "There are rumors that the mass production of the StarCore chip has encountered insurmountable difficulties, and that the StarPhone release may be delayed. These rumors come from different sources, but they are all highly consistent." He glanced down at the chip in his palm. "I won't comment on the origins of these rumors today. I'm just putting what we've made on the table. Let those who see it judge for themselves."
Zhao Hu calmly closed the aluminum case, removed the latch, and placed it back in its original position. A moment of silence followed, then a reporter wearing glasses raised his hand and stood up. "Mr. Ling, could you please tell me the specific release date of the StarPhone 1—"
"January 15th next year, Beijing International Convention Center."
His tone was completely calm, as if he were confirming how many meat and vegetables were served for lunch at the cafeteria today.
The press conference ended at 10:42 PM. The news spread faster than any official press release. The press conference was still being broadcast live, and the live comments in the lower left corner of the screen were already like a waterfall—some people were counting the chip serial numbers, some were taking screenshots to verify the logo, some typed a long string of exclamation marks saying, "My dad works at Xinghuo and he said this thing is real," and some made a couple of sarcastic remarks, saying, "Maybe it's just a Texas Instruments chip with a different label," but they were quickly leveled off by the publicly available parameters of the same batch from Texas Instruments.
Liu Chuanzhi saw the news at 12:03.
He was eating a boxed lunch in his office. It was from the cafeteria, two meat dishes and one vegetable dish; he took a couple of bites and then put it down. The television on the opposite wall was showing a clip from the Xinghuo press conference on CCTV's midday news channel—on the screen, Ling Yun opened his palm to reveal the chip, a close-up shot making the etched logo very large. The anchor's voiceover said, "Xinghuo Group today released its self-developed mobile processor chip, announcing that mass production has been completed, and the StarPhone 1, equipped with this chip, will be officially released next month."
Liu Chuanzhi's hand holding the chopsticks hovered in the air. He lowered it, but instead of poking it into the lunchbox, he slowly placed it on the table. The chopsticks rested on the rim of the bowl, rolled half a circle, and fell to the ground.
Then he gripped the remote control in his hand, but didn't smash it against the TV. He put the remote back on the table, braced himself against the edge of the table, and stood up. His face was flushed, and a vein in his neck throbbed. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but said nothing. Instead, he smashed the teacup on the table—an old-fashioned white office mug with blue flowers and the Yixiang logo on the lid—against the wall. The porcelain cup shattered against the corner of the wall, shards of porcelain scattering all over the floor, and the unfinished tea dripped down the white wall.
Hearing the noise, the secretary outside opened the door, saw the broken porcelain shards on the floor and the wet stains on the wall, and then silently closed the door again.
Liu Chuanzhi stood there, his chest heaving. He bent down to pick up the chopsticks that had fallen to the ground and placed them on the table, then pushed the now-cold boxed lunch aside, picked up the landline, and dialed the finance department. "Summon Vice President Qian to come over now."
When Vice President Qian entered, he was carrying a half-eaten fruit platter from lunch. He glanced at the slicked-up tea stain in the corner, then slowly put the platter down. Liu Chuanzhi pushed the open reports onto the table. "How much inventory do we have?"
Vice President Qian opened the report, his finger trembling slightly as he tapped a large red number on the first page. He read aloud, "We have about 2.4 million screens in stock. 1.8 million camera modules. 3 million battery cells. And pre-ordered RF antennas, speaker units, vibration motors—not counting prepayments, the book value of the already stocked goods alone is over 900 million. Nearly a third of these are specifications we don't need ourselves; we didn't check carefully when we bought them, only discovering it after unpacking."
"If I resell it now as a second-hand item, how much will I get back?"
"Less than 40%. Because we bought the goods at the peak of the price. Now that the Spark launch event has been held, everyone in the market knows that mass production of chips is real. The expectation of StarPhone being delayed has been completely overturned. The price of similar components today has dropped by nearly 20% compared to last week, and it is still falling."
Liu Chuanzhi's Adam's apple bobbed. He looked down at the report, about to pull his hand back from the page—he hadn't even looked closely at the market trend chart in the lower right corner—when the landline suddenly rang. Vice President Qian reflexively reached for the speakerphone. It was the receptionist calling, her voice tense as if something unseen was choking her. "Mr. Liu, there are a lot of reporters outside, and some are blocking the supplier's car at the door, demanding a refund—" Liu Chuanzhi reached for the hang-up button, his voice cut off by the static. He looked at the report on the table, circled countless times in red pen, and pushed a document from his left to his right.