Although the press conference had ended late, Haifeng didn't return to the company. Instead, he asked the driver to take him home. He hadn't been back in months.
When he opened the door, he saw his parents and little sister sitting on the sofa.
"Dad, Mom, you're still up?"
His sister immediately pounced. "Brother, where's my phone?"
Haifeng grinned and pulled out two white phones and one gold from his bag, handing them over.
His dad carefully opened the box, studying the phone closely. "Not bad," he said—but the pride in his eyes was unmistakable.
His mother smiled and nudged his sister. "Xiaoying, go to bed. You've got school tomorrow. Don't bother your brother—he's worked hard enough today."
After their parents left, Xiaoying leaned over and whispered, "Don't think Dad wasn't excited. He watched your entire press conference last night." Then she slipped out of the room.
By the following day, the internet had exploded.
"Chinese Tech Drops a Bomb: Is This the First Real Domestic Smartphone?"
"Sleek and Powerful—The Hongmeng S1 Outperforms Apple's iPhone 4"
"Starting at ¥2,999 (≈ $413 in 2025)! This Is the End of Knockoff Phones"
"A Farewell to Copycats—Chinese Innovation Shines"
Headlines were everywhere.
With each media outlet racing to post first-hand reactions, the Hongmeng S1's exposure exploded overnight. Reporters who couldn't write eye-catching headlines weren't even bothering to submit.
The smartphone's specs, price-performance ratio, and futuristic feel crushed expectations. People who were ready to buy the iPhone 4 suddenly changed their minds.
They were now waiting for the Hongmeng S1 to drop.
At the company's headquarters, the tech department was in chaos.
Even with air conditioning running full blast, the programmers were sweating bullets. And behind them, Zhang Yu looked like he was about to explode.
"Li Jun! What did you promise me yesterday?" he barked. "Didn't you say you'd expand server capacity? Why is it crashing now?!"
Li Jun, head of the tech team, was frantically typing and too afraid to argue. He'd been working nonstop through the night and had expanded the servers as requested—but no one expected this much traffic.
They hadn't just underestimated interest.
They'd underestimated what the first authentic Chinese smartphone meant to this generation.
"Manager Zhang," Li Jun finally said, "the new servers are online. The site won't crash again."
He exhaled in relief, watching the pre-order page go live. Then he snuck a glance at Haifeng, who had been sitting in the same spot the whole time—completely unfazed.
He didn't panic at all…
While others were scrambling, Haifeng had been sipping tea and casually muttering:
"Let it crash a little longer."
Because, in truth, he meant it.
The crash was part of the plan. The more it went down, the more attention it attracted.
A stable website won't go viral. But a crashed one? That screams demand.
Ding ding ding.
"The first pre-order is in!" Xiao Ai called.
Before she could finish, more came pouring in.
"My god..."
"They're selling like crazy!"
Due to production constraints, Haifeng had only released a limited batch:
3 color options × 3 storage versions = 9 SKUs
50,000 units each = 450,000 total phones
And in the backend, they were flying off the virtual shelves.
In less than three hours, everything was sold out.
It's just an online launch. No store supply.
Just one goal: brand heat.
Haifeng stared at the order counter and… didn't smile.
450,000 phones sold—but the profit margin is razor thin.
The parts were expensive:
CPU: ¥500 (≈ $69 in 2025)
Display & Camera: ¥800 (≈ $110)
Other costs: nearly ¥1,000 (≈ $138)
And there were still taxes and operational fees.
The pre-sale sold out, but it wasn't about profit.
Online, the discussion didn't fade. It only intensified.
People who didn't get their hands on one were frustrated. The S1 was called a "limited edition," and everyone wanted in.
"President Lu," Xiao Ai reported, "more and more people are demanding a second batch."
Haifeng shook his head.
"No. Just one batch per week—for now."
She blinked. "Why? We can ramp up to 50–100k a day."
Haifeng turned to her.
"Let me ask you: is public interest rising or falling right now?"
She paused—then nodded slowly.
"We keep the scarcity up. Let the hype do the work."