Cutting-Edge Technology R&D Center

Chapter 29: The Mind-Blowing Cleaning Software

“You’re not… really going to do this, are you?” Li Qin looked at Wang Hao, whose expression was completely serious, a hint of disbelief crossing her face. “I really am. Sister Qin, where’s that boldness you showed when we last met…?” Wang Hao said, somewhat speechless. The last time he’d come, the other person had practically treated him like a brother—he’d originally just wanted to check out the server. Instead, he’d been practically forced to pry into her love life—even now, thinking back on it, he was at a loss for words. Li Qin’s face flushed slightly. Last time, she’d had a fight with her boyfriend and was in a bad mood. Seeing that Wang Hao didn’t seem very old, she’d struck up a casual conversation—though she’d done all the talking while Wang Hao just listened. That’s why, when Wang Hao saw Li Qin again, he decided to get a little payback. “Um, if you really want it, I’ll ask the manager to give you a special price. Are you sure you really want it? Don’t get me in trouble.” Li Qin shot Wang Hao a sidelong glance, her face flushing with embarrassment as she spoke. Seeing Wang Hao nod slightly, she picked up the phone and walked aside. The others glanced at Li Qin, then at Wang Hao. The salespeople suddenly realized he might actually be serious about buying, and they all looked at Li Qin with envy. At that moment, they all felt a twinge of regret—why hadn’t they given Wang Hao a proper welcome back then? “Man, you’re so generous,” Zhang Xin said admiringly, glancing at Wang Hao. To spend 200,000 without even batting an eye—that was impressive. Wang Hao smiled faintly, showing no sign of regret. Two hundred thousand might be a lot for him right now, but he didn’t really care. Once he brought this server home and moved Longnao to a new location, he’d be able to upload the garbage-processing program he’d developed. “I’ve secured the approval—180,000. If that’s acceptable to you, we’re all set.” Li Qin walked back and looked at Wang Hao’s composed expression. It was precisely because of that composure that she’d gone to her manager to request a special price; otherwise, she would’ve thought he was pulling her leg. “Okay, I’ll pay now.” Wang Hao nodded slightly, then, as if a thought had occurred to him, added, “Oh, right—I’ll also take that graphics workstation you mentioned last time. Just include that in the payment.” Wang Hao’s expression remained calm, but Li Qin could no longer keep her composure. He had just spent 200,000 in one go—she could already imagine how much her commission would be this month. “Sure.” Li Qin struggled to contain her excitement. Now she knew for certain—he wasn’t a poor man at all, but a true tycoon. At that moment, she was absolutely overjoyed. At first, she’d entertained Wang Hao simply because she was in a bad mood. And although Wang Hao looked young, he possessed an indescribable aura about him. She happened to need someone to talk to anyway, so she’d casually explained some server prices to him—never expecting he’d actually be ready to make a purchase. Wang Hao left with Zhang Tie and Zhang Nan, thoroughly satisfied. He was carrying a box that looked quite heavy—the rack-mounted server he’d purchased, which had cost him a full 180,000 yuan. He’d even made sure to utilize every available slot inside. It was a top-of-the-line rack-mounted server. As for the server rack itself, he didn’t plan to buy one in Gancheng; he intended to purchase it after arriving in Yanjing, since transporting it there would be far too much of a hassle. “Qin… you’re amazing. How did you track down such a big spender? Share your secret.” “A true master never reveals their hand. I don’t mean to be biased, but when I look at those young people, I can’t help but look down on them a little. I really need to correct that.” They were incredibly envious that Li Qin had actually managed to sell a server worth 180,000. After all, the owner had tried to push this server many times since bringing it in, but the market in Gancheng was simply too small—not many people would buy a server costing over 100,000. “Qin, doesn’t that mean you’re getting a bonus of 50,000 or 60,000?” An employee at the cash register suddenly remembered that whoever sold this server at the regular price would not only receive the standard commission but also a 30,000 bonus. Li Qin froze for a moment upon hearing this, then her face lit up with elation. She had forgotten that the boss had mentioned this 30,000 bonus before. At that moment, she felt deeply grateful to Wang Hao—it was precisely because of him that she had earned this sum, which would otherwise have taken her over a year to accumulate. “How many drones have you assembled?” Back at home, Wang Hao cooked dinner and chatted with them as they ate. “Over a hundred,” Zhang Nan replied. “Alright, I’ll work on the program today. Tomorrow, bring back a couple of drones and grab a few more chips,” Wang Hao said with a slight nod. Zhang Xin and Zhang Nan both looked surprised and delighted. Once the central control program was loaded, they would finally have their own drones—something Wang Hao had promised them long ago. After plugging in the server in his room, Wang Hao carefully took out an object from his bed that looked like a hard drive—though not quite—because this particular hard drive was unusual: it actually had a port that was powered on and flashing with light. With great care, Wang Hao unplugged the power from the Longnao core hard drive—which he’d kept hidden under his bed for quite some time—as he prepared to install it into the graphics workstation he’d just purchased. This graphics workstation would become his constant companion. “I’ll upload the program today…” Wang Hao’s eyes betrayed a look of deep thought. He planned to take the junk file cleaner as the core and package it into something similar to a computer maintenance tool. However, this “computer manager” had very limited functionality—it only offered a single option for cleaning junk files, unlike other similar programs that also provided antivirus protection and plugin cleanup. He’d also come up with a name for this cleanup tool—though it wasn’t his own idea. Inspired by the sight of sanitation workers toiling away, he’d chosen a rather bizarre name based on his own whimsy. “Dear Sanitation Worker.” This name stemmed partly from Wang Hao’s lack of creativity, partly from his desire to take the easy way out and not waste brainpower, but mostly from his respect for the sanitation workers who rise early and work late into the night for the city. After successfully naming the app, Wang Hao selected a few promotion platforms and uploaded it. He also casually wrote a brief description—one that was barely longer than the app’s name itself. Paired with the image of a garbage truck and accompanied by the name and description, the app looked anything but sophisticated—it resembled a substandard product, with every detail appearing half-hearted. Wang Hao, however, had his own strategy. Most major software companies now have their own management apps for smartphones or computers, and relying on standard marketing tactics would certainly not work in such a crowded market. Only by thinking outside the box would there be a chance of getting picked by the platform for testing. This was the strategy Wang Hao came up with after much deliberation: a bizarre app icon, paired with an unconventional name, and topped off with that mind-blowing description. He figured that if it piqued enough curiosity to prompt people to test it, he’d have a shot at getting it released. As for the name, he had no intention of changing it. The description was simple—just a dozen or so words... “An insanely awesome junk cleaner—you’ll definitely regret missing it. Prove me wrong if you dare.”