**Chapter 266: The Bandwagon Effect**
The impact on audiences was one thing, but for entrepreneurs, the real shock was the sheer amount of money involved.
- *"What? 1.5 million boxes sold overnight, raking in 15 million RMB?"*
- *"What? Over 5 million viewers, and even CCTV paid for broadcasting rights?"*
- *"What? A regional TV station offered 2 million RMB for the full event footage?"*
- *"What? Players from Shanghai and Beijing flew to remote provinces like Guizhou just to buy leftover blind boxes?"*
- *"What? Blizzard’s president challenging Jiangnan Group went viral globally?"*
- *"What? Forbes valued Jiangnan Group at 1.8 billion USD?!"*
These headlines landed on the desks of countless entrepreneurs, their eyes widening—not just in shock, but with unmistakable **dollar signs** flashing in their pupils.
The Chinese market has never lacked a tendency to **jump on bandwagons**, especially when something proves wildly profitable. Blind boxes were no exception.
As early as 2002, several companies had tried launching their own blind box products. Most failed miserably.
Their boxes might’ve cost 10 RMB, but the contents were barely worth half that. Many didn’t even include the "rare" items advertised, hoping to scam a quick buck from gullible buyers. Predictably, these schemes collapsed.
A few businesses genuinely tried emulating Jiangnan’s model, but they soon found the economics unsustainable.
- **Problem 1:** The contents of each blind box had to match or exceed the retail value of the box itself, slashing profit margins.
- **Problem 2:** Establishing a nationwide retail network for blind boxes required **physical stores**, driving costs to astronomical levels.
Only a company like Jiangnan—with massive scale, in-house manufacturing, and a loyal fanbase—could absorb those costs.
Most crucially, Jiangnan had something these copycats didn’t: **products with perceived high value but shockingly low production costs** (e.g., *Warcraft III* skins).
Result? Small businesses either failed to grasp Jiangnan’s strategy or lacked the resources to execute it. Many bled money and folded.
While small blind box ventures still existed, none could **shake Jiangnan’s dominance**—until now.
The global finals sent seismic waves through the industry, and suddenly, **major corporations** took notice.
In the **two weeks following the event**, **12 large enterprises**—each with assets exceeding **2 billion RMB**—announced plans to enter the blind box market.
- **Sanzhu Oral Liquid** (a health supplement brand)
- **Hope Group** (a livestock feed giant)
- **Greenland Group** (a real estate developer)
Their marketing campaigns were **outlandish**:
- Hope Group’s top prize: **10 kg of fresh pork daily for a year**.
- Sanzhu’s grand reward: **A 10-year supply of their "miracle" tonic**.
- Greenland’s ultimate flex: **A free apartment**.
Overnight, the blind box industry exploded with competition. Jiangnan now faced over a dozen **deep-pocketed rivals**, all vowing to **go national**.
And they **meant it**. These companies already had **existing retail networks**:
- Sanzhu had dedicated stores in every city.
- Hope Group’s feed outlets blanketed rural China.
- Greenland could repurpose unsold commercial spaces into blind box shops.
China had entered the **"Blind Box Gold Rush"**—and everyone wanted a piece.
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### **"Gentlemen, We’re Entering the Blind Box Market!"**
In a lavish office, a **bald man** slammed his fist on the table, addressing his team with fervor.
*"It’s about damn time!"*
*"Huang He started with leather goods—why should he monopolize this?"*
*"Once we launch, our marketing will crush Jiangnan!"*
The room erupted in applause.
The man—**Shi Zhu**, a legendary (and controversial) tycoon—smiled. His career had been a rollercoaster:
- **Early 1990s:** Built a computer empire with Chinese-language "Han Cards."
- **1995:** Went bankrupt after his **118-story "Giant Mansion"** project collapsed, leaving **hundreds of millions in debt**.
- **1997:** Pulled a **phoenix-like comeback** by pivoting to **health supplements**—launching **Brain Platinum (脑白金)**.
Brain Platinum’s success was **absurd**. Its ads were **10x more obnoxious** than *"Jiangnan Leather Factory"*, yet it dominated TV screens for years.
By 2002, Brain Platinum was pulling in **1 billion RMB annually**. But Shi Zhu sensed trouble—**the保健品 (health supplement) craze was peaking**.
So, in a move that baffled analysts, he **sold Brain Platinum** in December 2002 for **140 million RMB** and set his sights on **blind boxes**.
(Historical footnote: The buyer, **Qingdao Tejian Group**, had murky ties to state capital. Why Shi Zhu abandoned Brain Platinum at its zenith remains a mystery.)
Now, with Jiangnan’s blind box empire under siege, Shi Zhu grinned.
*"Time to teach Huang He what real marketing looks like."*
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*(Adapted for cultural context, with adjusted phrasing for readability while preserving the original’s tone and business intrigue.)*