Why was Microsoft able to dominate the global market for PC operating systems? The main reason lies in its strategy of bundling its software with Intel hardware.
The combination of Windows and Intel processors created what is known as the "Wintel" alliance. Globally, the market for microcomputer processors is firmly controlled by the United States.
The two major CPU manufacturers, Intel and AMD, are both American companies. So, if emerging countries want to develop their own computers, they are forced to use American CPUs. However, the hardware from these companies is not compatible with software developed independently by other countries, which leads to significant compromises in functionality and usability.
As a result, when the market eventually opens up and Microsoft's operating systems flood in, local competitors quickly crumble.
Therefore, for the rapid development of microcomputers, progress must be made on two fronts: both software and hardware need to be developed concurrently.
Zhang Zhipeng recalls that Microsoft began its large-scale entry into the Chinese market in 1994. However, even by the early 2000s, China had developed dozens of its own operating systems. These included versions like Xteam Linux, BluePoint Linux, Red Flag Linux, and ChinaSoft Linux, with as many as thirty or forty different versions in total. Each company fought its own battle, trying to establish its own foothold. In the end, none of them succeeded.
Microsoft cleverly used a strategy of allowing piracy to gain market dominance. Once its operating system occupied over 90% of the Chinese market, it started cracking down on piracy, ultimately reaping the rewards. This was a painful lesson.
However, in this life, since I’ve been reborn, I absolutely cannot let this tragedy repeat itself.
But before developing an operating system and a domestically produced CPU, the issue of building strong defenses must first be resolved! Without a sharp enough sword, there can be no strong military power. Without strong military power for self-defense, even the best civilian technological developments will only be seen as fodder for others.
Zhang Zhipeng pondered the MS-DOS operating system while continually honing his programming skills. Soon, his programming abilities advanced to a high level in the C language.
At this point, he encountered a problem: he didn’t know how to use the Wubi (five-stroke) input method, and the pinyin input method that came with the computer in the computer lab was incredibly cumbersome.
The current pinyin input method lacked word selection, so each character had to be typed individually, making it as slow as an ox dragging a broken cart—a far cry from the speed of Wubi.
Zhang Zhipeng then began thinking about modifying the pinyin input method on the computer.
His programming skills were quite advanced, but even so, he realized that creating an input method as sophisticated as the later Smart ABC pinyin input method was no easy task.
This was because input methods involve a significant amount of knowledge. First, they require a deep understanding of the Chinese language, familiarity with common pinyin conventions, arrangement of word frequencies, and the ability to provide precise word selection.
Additionally, it involves probabilities, dictionary algorithms, and more.
In short, to develop a good pinyin input method, one must have a solid command of the Chinese language.
As Zhang Zhipeng worked on modifying the computer’s pinyin input method, he couldn’t help but shake his head. He realized that he wouldn’t be able to complete this task in a short time.
However, as he tinkered with the input method, his knowledge of the Chinese language gradually improved.
After two or three hours of work, Zhang Zhipeng managed to upgrade the original full-pinyin input method to a version capable of inputting phrases with word selection options.
After completing the modifications, he tested it out and found that its efficiency had improved significantly compared to the original full-pinyin input method. It was also much easier to use, though still not quite as efficient as the Wubi input method.
When Zhang Zhipeng looked outside, he saw that the sky was pitch black. It was already past 9 PM.
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He stretched, turned off the computer, and headed home.
Outside, the rain was still falling, seemingly heavier than before.
His home was in a nearby residential compound, just a ten-minute walk away.
He ran home, his stomach growling with hunger.
His family lived in an old apartment building, with about ten households on each floor sharing a common bathroom, water room, and kitchen.
The living conditions were quite lively, with each family occupying a rather small space.
As Zhang Zhipeng entered the corridor, he noticed that most households were already preparing for bed, with the sound of television faintly echoing through the hall. A patriotic song was playing:
“After a century of slumber, the people are gradually awakening
Open your eyes, take a careful look
Who would willingly be a slave?
Because of timidity and forbearance,
Others have grown more arrogant.
Shout out, shout loudly…”
This is the theme song of Huo Yuanjia, "The Great Wall Will Never Fall."
Zhang Zhipeng tiptoed through the hallway, which was filled with the lingering smell of half-burnt coal and sulfur. Both sides of the hallway were cluttered with various odds and ends. But overall, it was still relatively tidy.
When he reached the door to his home, Zhang Zhipeng took out his key and opened the door.
His parents were still watching TV.
His mother, Wang Yuqin, saw him come in and quickly stood up. “Why are you home so late?”
“Have you eaten?”
“Look at you, you're drenched. You’re going to catch a cold like this.”
She handed him a dry towel, urging him to dry his face and quickly change into some dry clothes.
His father merely glanced at him, sighed, and then continued watching TV.
He had long since lost hope in this son.
On the TV screen was also a show about Huo Yuanjia. This drama had actually started airing in mainland China in the mid-1980s. Even after repeated broadcasts, it still had high viewership.
“Mom, I stayed late at work. Before I knew it, it was already past nine,” Zhang Zhipeng said as he headed to his room to change his clothes.
His sister, Zhang Zhilin, had her own dormitory at the university's young teachers' apartment and didn’t live at home.
There wasn’t enough space at home anyway.
While changing his clothes, Zhang Zhipeng could hear his parents talking outside.
His father sounded furious. “Good for nothing! Hanging around with a bunch of street thugs all day! If he keeps this up, he’ll end up in jail sooner or later!”
“How did I end up with such a useless son?”
“It’s all because you spoiled him too much!”
His mother’s voice was quieter as she said, “Why are you shouting?”
“The boy just said he was working overtime at the office.”
His father sighed. “You believe that nonsense? Working overtime at the office—he’s just a low-level errand boy. How could he be busier than a professor? He’s just been out fooling around.”
His mother said, “He’s grown up now. Give him a little face! Otherwise, he’ll run away from home again.”
“I think he’s been behaving a lot better these past few days.”
His father said, “Forget it, why am I even getting angry?! As long as I have food and drink, I don’t care about anything else!”
Zhang Zhipeng shook his head. It seemed that the previous occupant of this body had truly broken his father’s heart.
When he first crossed over, it was late at night, and he found himself lying on the side of the road, his clothes filthy and reeking of alcohol. Clearly, the previous occupant had drunk too much, passed out, and died, leaving Zhang Zhipeng to take over.
The previous occupant was a typical Chang'an idler, a street thug or a bully. This term was popular in the 1980s and 1990s, but later on, people started using the term “society brother” to refer to such individuals.
Zhang Zhipeng decided he would have a good talk with his father later, to let him know that the person he used to be was dead, and that from now on, he would strive to improve himself.
After changing his clothes, Zhang Zhipeng came out of his small room.
“Mom, is there anything to eat? Just a steamed bun is fine, something to fill my stomach. I’m a bit hungry,” Zhang Zhipeng said with a smile.
His mother wiped her eyes and forced a smile. “I saved some food for you. I’ll go heat it up.”
Zhang Zhipeng said, “No need to heat it up. It’s not cold, I’ll just make do, it’s fine.”
As he spoke, he found the leftover dishes himself, grabbed a steamed bun, and sat down at the small table to eat.
His father had returned to his usual cold demeanor.