118: Chapter 118 OnePlus Attacks the United States

November 12, New York.

When Chen Mo flew in from Los Angeles, the wind at JFK Airport blew his coat collar up.

Mid-November in New York was already cold, a completely different season from autumn in Nashville.

A black Cadillac Escalade was there to pick him up. The door opened, and Scott was sitting inside, wearing a charcoal grey cashmere coat with an iPad spread across his lap. On the screen was the itinerary for the next three days—dense and packed, with every item marked in a different color.

"The OnePlus brand event in the US. SoHo district, a renovated warehouse, tomorrow at 2 PM. Tech media, fashion bloggers, and a portion of our distributors. You'll take the stage for three minutes. Don't use the teleprompter; just say what you want to say."

Scott scrolled down the iPad and said, "The day after tomorrow, a cover shoot and interview for Rolling Stone magazine. The photographer is Mark Seliger—the one who shot covers for Nirvana, Johnny Cash, and Bob Dylan."

Scott paused to examine his face and said, "He usually doesn't shoot pop singers, but he wants to shoot you because your face 'has a story.' The day after that, there's a private VIP event at the Cartier flagship store on Fifth Avenue. There will be a few heavyweight guests."

Chen Mo leaned back in his seat, looking at the grey New York sky outside the car window, and asked curiously, "What kind of heavyweight guests?"

"Martin Scorsese might be one of them. He likes Cartier watches."

As the car drove across the Queensboro Bridge, the Manhattan skyline spread out under the hazy clouds.

Chen Mo rolled down the car window a crack. The New York wind poured in, drier than in Los Angeles and colder than in Nashville.

The OnePlus event was in a renovated warehouse in the SoHo district.

It had red brick exterior walls and cast-iron stairs. The interior had been transformed into a huge white space, with circular LED light strips hanging from the ceiling, and a giant advertisement for the new series of phones in the center.

It featured the photo Chen Mo had taken by the sea in Aranya: the grey ocean, the white Lonely Library, and him standing on the beach with the hem of his trench coat blowing in the wind.

More than two hundred people were at the venue. Tech media reporters sat in the front rows, fashion bloggers were holding up their phones for live streams, and the back rows were filled with OnePlus's distributors and partners in the US.

Chen Mo was wearing a white Anta hoodie, dark jeans, and sneakers.

When he walked out from the side stage, there was no music and no light show; he just walked to the center of the stage alone.

Someone in the audience applauded. He nodded slightly and took the microphone off the stand.

"I used the OnePlus X for several months before it launched and even wrote a product trial report. Then, the engineers refined it based on my feedback. Plus, it has its own proprietary system. Although it's not cheap anymore, it's much better to use."

The tech reporters in the audience laughed, and a few fashion bloggers held their phones even higher.

Chen Mo paused and switched the microphone to his right hand.

"When OnePlus asked me to be their spokesperson, I said okay, but I had one condition: I would only say what I wanted to say. And they agreed."

He glanced at Liu Hu, who was standing on the side of the stage.

Liu Hu was wearing a dark blue suit, standing in the shadows backstage with his arms crossed over his chest, nodding slightly.

"So, every word I'm saying here today is what I truly think. I'm just as excited as you are about the OnePlus series entering the US market."

He spoke for three minutes, then put the microphone back on the stand and walked back off the side stage.

In the backstage lounge, Liu Hu was already waiting. He hadn't brought an assistant today and was standing alone by the window, looking at the street view of the SoHo district. He turned around when he heard Chen Mo come in.

"Old Liu."

Liu Hu walked over and patted his upper arm, laughing. "That line you said earlier, 'Now it's not cheap anymore'—those US distributors in the audience were all laughing, and after they laughed, they were whispering to each other. They're re-evaluating the brand—it's not about selling cheap goods; it's about selling good stuff."

"The OnePlus series sells well elsewhere, but American consumers still perceive Chinese phones as just 'cost-effective.' Breaking that perception takes time. Me standing on stage and speaking in my own words is more persuasive than any advertising slogan."

Chen Mo rolled up the sleeves of his white hoodie and said, "You have to give me a custom-made phone."

Liu Hu leaned against the windowsill, sighed, and laughed. "I already had it ready for you. It has 'Don't stop' engraved on the back, and I've installed a few custom apps."

"The US market is the hardest nut to crack. I spent a long time thinking about how to promote it, and then I realized—instead of us saying it ourselves, it's better to let people who believe in me say it."

Liu Hu took the gift box from his assistant and handed it to him.

"By the way, about the tablets you mentioned donating to the school in the Daliang Mountains, they've arrived. The principal sent me photos."

Chen Mo looked down and opened the phone; it felt great in his hand. Then he asked, "Have they been connected to the internet?"

"Not yet. The signal in the mountains is poor, so we're installing offline content first."

"Use the education cloud. Download the video courses in advance, update them once a week, find a vehicle to drive to the foot of the mountain, and use a mobile hotspot to sync. It doesn't need to be connected all the time. When I was at Thornton, the dorm internet was mediocre, so the professors would upload the course materials in advance."

Liu Hu pulled his phone out of his pocket, typed a line in his notes, put the phone back, and then looked at Chen Mo.

"With a brain like yours, it's a pity you aren't a product manager. You have other plans for the press conference, right? I won't hold you up."

Chen Mo said yes, then turned and walked a few steps.

Liu Hu called out to him from behind, "If you ever stop doing music, come to OnePlus."

Chen Mo looked back at him, and Liu Hu added, "As a product manager. I'm a good judge of character."

Chen Mo shook his head and said, "I won't stop doing music, but next time I go to Shenzhen, you can treat me to dim sum."

Liu Hu asked why he should be the one to treat.

Chen Mo said, "Because the OnePlus series is selling like crazy, and I haven't been treated yet."

Liu Hu rolled his eyes in a very unrefined manner.

On the 13th, the Rolling Stone cover shoot took place in an old factory in Brooklyn with red brick walls and concrete floors. The windows were those old-fashioned steel-framed glass ones, and the morning light came in from the east, cutting a long rectangle onto the floor.

Mark Seliger was crouching on the floor adjusting the aperture. He looked like an old professor who had just walked out of a used bookstore—silver hair, round-rimmed glasses, and a dark grey wool sweater.

When he saw Chen Mo come in, he stood up and walked over leisurely, circling him halfway.

"You don't need to make any expressions; just stand there. Many people subconsciously try to prove something when they have their photos taken, but you don't have to. Your face is already saying what you want to say."

Chen Mo stood in front of the window. The morning light hit him diagonally from behind, plating his silhouette with a warm golden edge.

The sound of the shutter echoed in the empty factory. The rhythm wasn't fast, and between each click, there was the sound of Mark's footsteps as he slightly adjusted his angle.

After shooting for nearly twenty minutes, Mark put down his camera, took off his glasses, and wiped them with the corner of his shirt.

"You know, decades ago, I took photos of a young man. He had just released his first album, and he was like a taut bowstring; every muscle was tensed. I asked him to sit on the windowsill, and he sat there for twenty minutes with his hands clenched into fists the whole time."

Mark put his glasses back on and exclaimed, without any attempt to hide his admiration.

"Just now, you stood in the same spot and shot for the same amount of time, and your hands were relaxed. That young man later became a global superstar, but it took him ten years to learn how to unclench his hands. How long did it take you?"

Chen Mo relaxed his slightly curled fingers and said, "Not long. I only started learning this year."

He paused and looked out the window. The morning light had just moved to the edge of the window frame, cutting his profile into two halves of light and shadow.

"I didn't dare to relax before, either. I felt that if I relaxed, I would be overtaken."

"And now?"

"Now I know that someone who keeps their fists clenched can't play the piano well."

The interview was conducted during a break in the shoot.

The reporter interviewing him was named Irene. She was in her forties, had short hair, wore thin-rimmed glasses, and was a senior music editor for Rolling Stone magazine.

She didn't have an interview outline; she was just holding a cup of cold coffee, sitting face-to-face with Chen Mo on two folding chairs in the corner of the factory.

"What do you think the future of music is?"