Zhou Yi returned to his new home in Zijin Bay.
The apartment he bought was a fully furnished one, so all he needed was to purchase some bedding and daily necessities.
He habitually opened his phone to check for food delivery apps, then suddenly remembered that in this world, platforms like Meituan didn’t exist yet.
This world shared many similarities with Zhou Yi’s original one, yet there were also countless differences.
For instance, while there was an online shopping platform here, it wasn’t called Taobao—it was called Jingpin Tao.
However, shopping wasn’t as convenient as on Taobao, and fewer people used it, preferring offline purchases instead.
The courier industry existed, but only one major brand dominated—Xingsu Express.
Smaller companies struggled to survive, and the industry was nearly monopolized.
Similar discrepancies were everywhere.
Zhou Yi began considering what he could do in the entertainment sector.
This world had forums like Tieba and microblogging platforms like Weibo, and live streaming had already emerged.
But video-sharing platforms hadn’t appeared yet.
Short-video platforms were completely absent—no Tencent Video, no iQiyi, no Douyin, no Kuaishou.
There was one anime platform called C Station, similar to the Bilibili of his past life, focusing on anime and long-form videos. Most internet celebrities here either came from Weibo or C Station.
However, comic platforms were scarce, as print magazines were still popular, and most comics were serialized in them.
Web novels existed, but there were no free platforms—everything was paywalled.
At this point, Zhou Yi recalled a free novel platform from his previous life, which had completely disrupted the paid platforms upon its debut.
His expression shifted from regret to realization.
Could he fill these gaps in the market?
If the existing online shopping platform wasn’t good enough, he could create a better one to compete.
If courier services weren’t fast enough, he could establish a brand like SF Express—faster and cheaper.
And with short-video platforms still nonexistent, he could launch Kuaishou or Douyin equivalents.
All these ideas flashed through his mind.
He could practically see mountains of money waving at him.
Determined, he decided to start with entertainment, laying a solid foundation before branching into other industries.
But for now, he had to return to reality—he still needed to buy daily necessities.
Zijin Bay was a high-end residential area, so there were no convenience stores downstairs.
Zhou Yi had to walk further to find one.
Without food delivery apps, he had no choice but to go out the old-fashioned way.
Not long after leaving his building, he received a message from Qiao Xi.
[Xi: Yi-gege, did you move to a new place?]
Qiao Xi had always kept up with Zhou Yi’s updates.
Lately, though, she noticed he seemed busier, replying much slower.
But she understood—she’d seen the forum discussions about him scoring full marks in multiple subjects. He must’ve been studying hard.
Bored, Zhou Yi saw her message as an opportunity. Why not invite her over?
It’d be good to spend more time with her. Since he was about to graduate, their chances to meet would dwindle—they weren’t even in the same grade.
[Zhou Yi: Yeah. Want to come over? I remember your place isn’t far from mine.]
Qiao Xi’s eyes lit up. Yi-gege was inviting her to his new home!
[Xi: Mhm! Okay~ Send me the address, Yi-gege.]
[Zhou Yi: I’m actually out buying some stuff now. I’ll meet you downstairs at your place.]
[Xi: Okay! I’ll head out right away!]
Excited, Qiao Xi opened her wardrobe to pick something nice to wear.
But most of her clothes were white dresses and princess-style outfits—nothing eye-catching.
She usually wore her school uniform, and these frilly dresses had long grown tiresome.
Though the Qiao family wasn’t as wealthy as Su Ning’s (whose assets exceeded billions), they were still affluent.
As a Qiao daughter, Qiao Xi was expected to maintain a certain image—elegant, refined, every bit the proper young lady.
In other words, she wasn’t allowed to be herself.
She had to emulate her mother and sister, or else her father and brother would disapprove.
It was exhausting. Even her clothing choices weren’t hers.
Trapped in this gilded cage, how could she ever be happy?
With a sigh, she closed the wardrobe door and grabbed her school uniform instead.
At least it was comfortable.
As she headed out, her father, Qiao Zhengguo—a stern, bookish-looking man with piercing eyes—called out from the living room, "Where are you going so late?"
Her older siblings were there too: Qiao Yan, 28, already holding a key position in the family business, and Qiao Yu, 21, fresh out of university.
Qiao Xi kept her head low. "A friend just moved and invited me over."
Qiao Yu smirked. "You have friends? Since when?"
Qiao Xi’s shoulders slumped. To her sister, she was so unlikable that no one would ever want to befriend her.
Forcing a smile, she whispered, "It’s someone new. I’ll introduce them next time, jiejie."
Qiao Yan barely acknowledged her, treating her like air.
As the sole heir, he expected deference from everyone except their father.
Qiao Yu, ever the social butterfly, knew how to charm him.
But Qiao Xi? She’d been a sickly child, too fragile to even scold.
Unlike Qiao Yu’s effortless charisma, Qiao Xi was awkward—quiet, inexpressive, never saying the right thing.
Naturally, Qiao Yan preferred Qiao Yu.
And Qiao Yu, who spent her life currying favor with their parents and brother, needed an outlet for her frustrations.
That outlet was Qiao Xi.
Manipulation was Qiao Yu’s specialty, and she’d played no small part in turning the family against her younger sister.
Knowing exactly what would provoke their father, she feigned concern. "Xi-xi, you’re not sneaking out to meet some boy, are you?"