Tech startup: I really do make mobile phones!

Chapter 101 The Journey of an Orange 1

I am Yuancheng gaseous lithium battery, numbered C-LiQ-2010-YC001-0001, born in the semi-automated small production line workshop of Yuancheng New Energy in Longgang, Shenzhen.

When my R&D engineer affixed the certificate of conformity to my paper, I could feel the warmth of his fingertips. The quality inspector wrote "Chen Mo" with force, the brushstrokes spreading into a small blot of ink at the last dot of the character "Mo".
When he lifted me high in front of everyone, the cheers and applause made me feel incredibly new to the world and I was also incredibly intoxicated by the feeling of being the center of attention.

In the first batch of 3 800mAh gaseous lithium batteries produced by Far Orange, I lay in the very center of the first-class cabin of the ten-seater with pearl cotton seats, where 50 companions squeezed me warmly and comfortably.

As the small truck rolled over the potholed gravel road in Longgang, I could see the orange sign of "Yuancheng New Energy" fading into the distance through the gaps in the cardboard box.
I arrived at Futian District, where the factory's signboard gleamed in the morning light, the words on it like soft, translucent QQ orange juice candies melting in the glow.

The small truck took us to the transit warehouse. When the deliveryman was unloading boxes in the afternoon, I noticed that the character "Zhang" on his name tag was worn and unclear.

My companion and I sat on a small cart and entered the assembly workshop.

The screen girl on the assembly line winked at the delivery worker and told him to come to the Lubao Hotel tonight.

As the guy with the camera swept over us, he chatted with the old man holding the motherboard, saying, "We've finally arrived. If we had waited any longer, he would have fallen asleep."

I was sent to the back cover assembly area. As I passed the testing station, I saw a pen sticking out of the pocket of the quality inspector's white coat, with the words "Advanced Worker" engraved on the cap.

"Wow! Your figure is much more pleasing to the eye than those 'barrel waists' Ningde has."

The aunt from Sichuan and Chongqing who was in charge of packing my car was wearing an anti-static wrist strap. Every time she pressed the back cover buckle, the wrist strap would tap against the control panel.

The moment the orange back cover was snapped off, I seemed to be able to clearly feel myself: the black battery embedded in the orange casing.
I am what I think.

who am I?
Why did I come into this world?

Where am I going?

I am an Orange 1 smartphone, which was launched less than a month ago in Shenzhen and North China!

My developers entrusted me with the ultimate mission: technological equality.

I will serve my users until the end of my life.

Just then, two people in white coats came over, and the older one pointed me out.

"Xiao Qi! Let's take this one!"

Another young man in a white coat placed me and my nine companions onto a tray.
My companion and I arrived at a new place—the laboratory.

They conducted various tests on us, and the older doctor in the white coat kept praising me.

"Xiao Qi! At the price of 499, it's incredible that Orange has managed to achieve this level of phone performance!"

When the other party connected to me using an unknown interface, I felt so nervous that my skin felt hot.

"The tolerance has increased from 8% to 10%. Is the quality control of this batch of Far Orange products not very good?"

I only breathed a sigh of relief when he disconnected the unknown interface, and my body temperature returned to normal.

I keenly sensed that the young man adjusting the equipment next to me also carried the scent of my companion in his pocket.

It's about to run out of power.

Before the screen went out, I saw the same battery icon flashing as mine.

"I should have known better than to hide the bug with the pre-stored battery," the young man said as he placed my partner on the lab table. His regretful face was reflected on the screen: "Last night, when I was breaking the record in Fruit Ninja, the game shut down, and all my save data was gone!"

Pre-stored battery power?

That's when I noticed a water tank hidden in the corner of the system, reserved for power, but it was empty.

The older man in the white coat placed a quality inspection certificate on me and joked with me.

"Alright! You said you wouldn't even take it if it were free. What phone is perfect these days? My Nokia could crack walnuts back in the day, can any phone these days do that?"

After the testing was completed, I moved into two separate boxes, with the mini B-USB 2.0 located below me. It said it would be responsible for assisting me in providing services to users.

I have some doubts. This ten-year-old charging cable still uses the thinnest copper core and outdated connector specifications.

“I’ve charged a Motorola V3 before,” its rubber exterior brushed against the bottom of my double-layered plastic shell. “That phone was thin and unique, unlike your smartphones nowadays, which all look the same and are as fat as a loaf of bread.”

Motorola, I know it. The previous king of the mobile phone industry, I have great respect for it, but that's not a reason for this old guy, with whom I only have a casual acquaintance, to ridicule me so recklessly.

I stared at its outdated interface and started taunting it: "They say you should retire, old man."

"Cough cough cough!" It seemed somewhat angry as it pressed on, "Who, who said I should retire?"

I felt a little uneasy, as if I shouldn't have provoked this stubborn old man, but I still tried to remain calm and replied, "That's what the developers, manufacturers, and users all say!"

Upon hearing the user say the same thing, it suddenly fell silent.

"It is indeed time for me to retire!"

Then, it suddenly let out a soft laugh.

"But your developer has a keen eye for talent and immediately recognized my potential, this old fox who gets more cunning with age. He insists that I assist you. Little guy, if you want to serve users well in the future, you'd better pray that I don't go on strike!"

I felt a little embarrassed, as if I had been threatened by the old man, and I didn't want to talk to him anymore.

"Haha!" It laughed happily, tapping the plastic bottom with its rubber outer skin: "Little guy! I'm not kidding you anymore. You are the strongest genius in the field of charging among all the mobile phones I have ever worked with. It is enough for this old man to assist you."

After that, the two-story independent box where I lived with this old guy was put into a larger ten-unit cardboard box lined with pearl cotton. The box of 50 little houses was stacked in the finished product warehouse of the OEM factory.

The next day, the old man in the mini B who was supposed to help me and I got into the truck again and arrived at a place that felt very familiar and welcoming.

Outside the box, as a loud, boisterous voice yelled at the workers carrying goods through the cardboard box, I was listening to the old man in Mini B bragging.

It says:

Back in the global market, it swept aside Anycall, Nokia's round port, Motorola's T port, Sony's FastPort, and even its own big brother, mini A, defeating them all, step by step reaching the top and being crowned king.

I laughed and said, "Old man! You're just bragging!"

The loudmouth outside the box started yelling again: "Damn it! Be careful! If you break one, I'll dock three days' pay!"

“Little guy!” miniB ignored its doubts, its rubber outer skin rubbing against the bottom of the second layer of plastic shell as the outer cardboard box vibrated: “Back when I climbed to the throne by stepping on mini A’s corpse, it cried and asked me why I wouldn’t even spare its own brother.”

It paused for a moment: "I told it that in the world of charging ports, there is no room for second place—look at who still remembers what the mini A looks like?"

"No!" I panicked a little: "I can't let users forget what I look like. I still have to get into the hands of users and complete the ultimate mission that the developers gave me."

"Haha!" mini B laughed: "Want to avoid being forgotten? Then become Number One among smartphones!"

"Back then, everyone thought I would be replaced by mlcrousb, but what happened? I'm still alive and well in Huabeiqiang's knock-off phones."

I'm a little unsure of myself. This is number one! The current number one is that guy who set the benchmark for smartphones!
"Coco just has an 800mAh gaseous lithium battery, and it's a device priced at 499."

"Just the battery, and it's priced at 499?" it suddenly exclaimed. "Back in my day, I was just a two-yuan charging cable! Listen, little guy!"

The sound of rubber rubbing came from the darkness. It seemed to have turned around due to external force: "Now, the rural markets in China are like a wasteland. Weeds like Haifeng 4 and pears grow freely. Do you know why?"

I shook my head. The ten-piece set of pearl cotton quilts wobbled open, and the sharp edges of the individual small boxes hurt me painfully.

"That's because users have never seen real wheat!"

Mini B's voice carries a fierce edge.

"You think those knock-off phones are just selling phones? Wrong! They're selling cheapness, the ability to make calls, and durability—but you're different. You have 30-second fast charging, an ultimate mission, and you're on the path to becoming a technological king."

"But what should I do?" I heard my voice trembling.

"First, become the local tyrant!" it said bluntly, as if it were a trivial matter.

"Once you get to the counter, you'll understand that all of this is a natural progression—those genuine products can't even do fast charging, let alone counterfeit phones, but you... have the blood of a tech king!"

"Township overlord." I chewed on this new term, recalling the intoxicating scene of being lifted up by the developers and cheered and applauded by the crowd: "And then?"

"Then?"

mini B suddenly became quiet, so quiet that I thought it had fallen asleep.

"Brother Zhang! You're here! Hurry up and get out, I'm making room!" "What driving test guide? I, Zhao Tiezhu, have never borrowed it from you, don't talk nonsense! Here, the goods you ordered yesterday!"

The shouts coming from outside the box made it shake again.

It finally spoke.

"Then you'll encounter new rivals, just like I encountered mlcrousb back then, and this year I witnessed another formidable little guy challenging it—but that's a war for you youngsters, little one."

It stopped speaking and its voice gradually faded; the old man must have gone into hibernation.

The voice from outside the box came again: "You're from down below Chongqing, right? An extra 200? Deal!"

I suddenly realized that the old man had already written his honors into the annals of history, and my battle was only just beginning.
As the mail truck chugs along in the dark, I eagerly await the arrival of my own orange dawn.

The night was long.
When the light pierced the darkness, I had already been in the mailbox for five days.

As the blue towel wiped my individual little box, I smelled the distinctive fresh scent of laundry detergent.

The sunlight slanted into the supermarket in the small town of Chongqing. The owner placed me on the top shelf of the counter. To my left were big-name overstocked machines, and to my right was a green-headed, yellow-bodied "Pineapple X9".

I also discovered a mobile phone factory direct store across the street called "Nietzsche". Its back cover frame style is similar to mine, but its front face looks exactly like that bitten apple.

"Look! This is a real smartphone!" The shopkeeper shook me, her earrings jingling. "699! It's at least two levels higher up than that Nietzsche one!"

I went back to the counter, where the big-name inventory machines next to me sneered: "What are you pretending to be innocent for? You and the Pineapple X9 were both sourced from North China; who knows, the motherboards were probably picked out of some junkyard! Hahaha~"

I wanted to argue, but then I noticed that the screws on the back cover of the "Pineapple X9" were from the same factory as mine, but they were screwed on crookedly.

I fell silent.
Xiaoying was wearing a blue and white school uniform when she arrived, and the cuffs were pilling from wear.

"Auntie! Can you give me a discount?" She twisted her fingers around the strap of her backpack. "I've been collecting bottles, and I've saved up 366 yuan!"

The proprietress shook her head, wiping a blue towel across my face: "Girl! These charging cables are all imported; feel the quality."

The mini B sighed in the box: "Back when I went abroad with V3, I never suffered this injustice. Apart from the name, I am clearly a purely domestic product!"

"Three days! Boss lady, reserve three days for me!"

Xiaoying is gone.

Over these three days, the middle-aged man picked me up and then put me down again.

"The Nietzsche is only 399, with similar functions, it's only 500."

The proprietress snatched me away: "Get out of here, you old hag! What do you know?!"

As the towel wiped me, I glimpsed the purchase order in her apron pocket—including shipping, my cost was 220 yuan higher than Nietzsche's selling price, and she made 80 yuan profit on each unit she sold.

On the evening of the third day, Xiaoying rushed into the supermarket, her hair covered in spider silk.

"Auntie! Here's 499 yuan!"

The shop owner stuffed a pink protective case into the box: "Girl, this machine is delicate, don't drop it!"

The protective case felt a bit stuffy when it was wrapped tightly around me, but the warmth of Xiaoying's fingertips could be felt through the plastic, and I could feel her pulse.

The classroom fluorescent lights were buzzing, and Xiaoying held me up: "Look! Orange 1, a high-end smartphone!"

The owner of the Nietzsche sneered, "The back cover is just like mine. What are you pretending to be, acting all high and mighty?"

I wanted to tell him that I can charge in 30 seconds, that I am the real Orange, and that Nietzsche is obviously impersonating me. No, he's impersonating that rotten apple too.

I'm completely confused; I don't understand who it's trying to impersonate.

I suddenly felt the battery was almost depleted. My classmates were shouting for Xiaoying to tell if it was real or fake, and for me to perform the orange's special skill.

As soon as the mini B old man's plug was plugged into the socket, the tiny nano-vacuum bottle inside my body began to exert full negative pressure to attract electricity.
As the current flowed, I heard the old man in Mini B sigh leisurely beside me: "Getting old! Getting old! I can't understand the technology these days. The younger generation is truly formidable!"

Thirty seconds later, the battery level jumped to full, and gasps of surprise filled the classroom.

Xiaoying's deskmate leaned closer: "Really fast charging? Or is it just fake battery power?"

I want to explain
"Believe it or not!" But Xiaoying had already grabbed me and run towards the empty playground.

She used QQ to make a video call to a computer user, and a middle-aged woman appeared on the other end of the line. It was the aunt from Sichuan and Chongqing who had installed the battery and back cover for me at the OEM factory.

"Mom! I bought it! I bought it! Now I can see you every Saturday night!"

The moon cast a long shadow over her, and my screen reflected her sweaty face. Suddenly, the protective case didn't feel so stuffy anymore.

Late at night, Xiaoying, who was sleeping soundly, placed me next to her pillow, and Mini B suddenly spoke.

Do you know why your developers chose me to assist you?

I didn't say anything, but it started talking on its own.

"It's not just because they're cheaper; the older technology is more mature and durable."

I wanted to ask more about the developers, but it went dormant.

Now I'm by Xiaoying's side, watching her use me to look up English words, send "haha.jpg" to her best friend on QQ chat, and occasionally sneak off to play "Angry Birds" during breaks.

Whenever the battery indicator starts flashing, she nervously plugs it in, and the mini B always gets me fully charged within 30 seconds.

Xiaoying held me in her hands and exclaimed, "No wonder it's a high-end product! Nietzsche can't compare!"

She doesn't know, doesn't know, that I am imperfect.
My chip is two generations behind the mainstream, my screen comes from an unknown small factory in Shenzhen, and I even share the same screw manufacturer as counterfeit phones, but she still loves me so much.

I will faithfully fulfill the ultimate mission given to me by the developers and accompany Xiaoying until the moment my life ends.

The sycamore leaves rustled outside the window, Xiaoying's pen slid across her workbook, and a notification lit up my screen.

The system pushed out a 3MB patch to fix the pre-stored battery bug.

She laughed and tapped my screen: "Finally, I'm not afraid of turning off my phone anymore!"

I suddenly felt a little reluctant to let go of that system defect. Whenever that happened, Xiaoying would care about me extra.

But as mini B once said, "I am an orange; you have to peel it to see the flesh."

Gradually, I saw more and more companions around Xiaoying, and similarly, there were more and more of those Nietzsches, who I wasn't sure if they were impersonating me.

But now that I have Xiaoying, none of that matters anymore.

Until one day, mini B suddenly told me, "Little guy, you are now the king of smartphones in rural towns."

As I stared at Xiaoying, who was video chatting and laughing with her mother, I finally understood the meaning of the ultimate mission the developers had given me.

I am Orange, the light in Xiaoying's eyes.

Even at this small town counter, even surrounded by the mockery of stocked phones and the noise of knock-offs, I am still the one and only C-LiQ-2010-YC001-0001.

In Xiaoying's eyes, I am a "high-end product" that she cherishes. In the hands of the developers, I am also a star that was once lifted up.

Once born, one should not ask where one came from, but rather ensure that every bit of one's energy carries warmth and every current shines.

When the rain stopped outside the window, the moonlight climbed onto my screen. Mini B was still rambling about the Motorola of yesteryear. I, who was working overtime, suddenly felt sleepy.

It's okay, tomorrow is another day, and I know that no matter where I am, as long as Orange's companions are still there, my burning heart will still beat.
That's the heartbeat of the researchers, Xiaoying's heartbeat, and the heartbeat of everyone who gives their all for their dreams.

This is my story, from the production line to the counter, from a top stall in Shenzhen and North China to a counter in a rural town in Chongqing, from batteries to mobile phones, from a greenhorn to becoming the king of the rural market.

I am Orange 1, the heartbeat of technological warmth, the perfection of imperfection.

At that moment, Xiaoying's even breathing could be heard from the side of the pillow, as light as a petal falling on the water.

Goodnight, world! See you tomorrow.
　I don't know if you, dear readers, can accept this anthropomorphic style of expression. If not, please remind me so I can stop using this style in the future.

　　
　
(End of this chapter)