Beyond the live audience, viewers across the country were tuned in online. The news of Huaxing Technology's launch conference spread fast via forums, Tieba, Weibo, and other platforms. After all, this was the first-ever live-streamed mobile phone launch in China.
Lu Haifeng stepped onto the stage when the clock hit the scheduled hour.
A spotlight beamed down on him, casting his silhouette against the enormous screen behind him. His every move was projected clearly to the audience, both in the venue and through cameras broadcasting nationwide.
Anyone with a computer or phone could watch via streaming platforms, social media, and search engines.
Thanks to the broad reach and novelty of the event—plus clever advertising—hundreds of thousands were watching within minutes of the broadcast going live.
Lu stood firm, face calm despite the numbers displayed on his backend dashboard.
"I'm honored to welcome you all to Huaxing Technology's new product launch," he said confidently.
"And I'm thrilled that so many of you nationwide are joining us online. This is our moment of glory."
He continued voice firm.
"You're lucky to be here today—because what we're about to show you may very well be the first real smartphone for many of you."
The crowd instantly erupted.
On-site attendees gasped, and the internet exploded with comments.
"First smartphone?!"
"This guy's full of himself."
"Rich second-gen nonsense. I only came for laughs, and he's delivering."
Even Fang Yan, a popular tech blogger with millions of followers, joined the fray. He worked as an editor for a portal site and had the clout to sway public opinion.
Within moments, his blog post titled:
"Why Can't We Make Smartphones?"
It went viral.
While the post avoided aggressive language, the implications were scathing:
Huaxing was a joke. A copycat. A publicity stunt trying to ride the smartphone wave.
He criticized their claims, mocked their tech, and even dragged the debate into nationalism—claiming Western tech was unbeatable and that China's innovation had failed.
His fans, of course, jumped in with venom.
"Boycott braggers like Huaxing!"
"Watch, it's just another cheap knockoff."
"Western tech is still king. This is embarrassing."
But Lu Haifeng stood tall.
He had expected backlash. He had heard the critics.
And he didn't care.
When the noise peaked, he calmly reached into his pocket… and pulled out the Hongmeng S1[1].
He raised it smoothly under the camera, allowing its sleek black body and edge-to-edge display to shine under the lights.
The screen behind him instantly lit up with the live phone interface, mirrored in real-time.
The audience, both live and online, froze.
For a few seconds, there was absolute silence.
No comments. No heckling.
Just stunned silence.
Then…
A collective gasp.
Even viewers at home widened their eyes. Some sat up straighter. Some leaned in.
The S1 wasn't just real—it was beyond anything the audience had ever seen.
Its design was revolutionary. Sleek, buttonless, with a stunning interface that moved like a liquid under the touch.
Lu Haifeng watched their reactions, a flicker of pride in his eyes.
I felt this in my past life… when I saw the iPhone 5.
But this world hasn't even seen the iPhone 4 yet.
What were they seeing now?
It was years ahead of what they believed possible.
And it was only the beginning.
[1] Hongmeng, when translated from simplified Chinese, means dream. Should I change the phone name?