“That’s a good idea.”
“The interface looks great.”
“Keep going. I believe in you.”
Anyone who makes products is happy to hear encouragement like this. But if the next question is, “Would you pay for it?” the room can suddenly become very quiet.
What lies between “That’s nice” and “I bought it”?
Yesterday I wrote about Wendao recording its first paid transactions. That small beginning made me happy, and it also made me want to carry this question a little further.
I want to make things I care about. I also want them to earn money so I can keep making them.
Those two wishes deserve to sit at the same table.
Begin with a need of your own, then move into someone else’s life.
Be Your First User, but Do Not Mistake Yourself for the Whole Market
I began making Wendao because I wanted to read it myself. I read one chapter a day, and I especially enjoy the sections about what the text can teach us and how the Tao appears in daily life. That is a real starting point.
Building for a need you understand has an advantage: you know where the frustration lives, and you can quickly notice where the experience feels awkward.
But something you are willing to explore for an hour may get only one minute from someone else. A detail you find delightful may sit directly in front of the button they urgently need.
So the next question is: who else encounters this problem, and in what situation?
Start by talking with a few people who actually live in that situation. Do not rush to explain how many features you have built. Ask three things first:
- When did this problem last happen?
- What did you do then, and how much time or money did it cost?
- What is most frustrating about the way you handle it today?
Past behavior is more useful than asking, “If there were an app for this, would you use it?”
“I’ll try it sometime” is polite. “This wasted half my day yesterday” gives you something real to investigate.
A Like Is Light; Changing How You Work Is Heavy
Imagine that you made a tool to help small shops organize product images.
You introduce it by saying, “It uses AI, processes images in batches, and offers lots of styles.”
The shop owner may be asking very different questions: Can I use the results as they are? How many rounds of revision will this take? When I launch next week’s products, will I have to do everything again?
The maker sees features. The user is calculating what will change in their own life.
Value that someone will pay for has to land in that person’s world.
It might mean one fewer late night or several fewer rounds of rework. It could also mean an enjoyable reading experience, a photograph they love, or a moment in which they feel carefully looked after. Value does not always have to be translated into efficiency.
It does have to be concrete enough for someone to judge: how is this better than what I already do?
They already have free tools, familiar habits, and even the option of leaving the problem unsolved. Your product has to be worth the time needed to understand it, learn it, and move over to it.
At this point, I try to write one sentence:
Who do I help, in what situation, to accomplish what more easily—and why would they pay for that?
If the sentence collapses into words like “powerful,” “intelligent,” and “all-in-one,” I probably need to think a little longer.
Let One Small Piece of Value Complete One Real Transaction
When no orders arrive, our first reaction is often to add features.
We add another function, redesign the homepage, and ask AI for three new versions of the copy. We stay reassuringly busy while the original question—does anyone actually want this?—remains exactly where it was.
I would rather begin with a small version whose scope is clear, whose outcome can be delivered, and whose price is visible.
For the image tool above, that might mean selling a service for a defined number of product images, with the expected result, revision limits, and delivery time stated clearly. This is an example of a validation method, not a ready-made success story.
If someone buys, ask carefully why. If someone hesitates, find out what stopped them. Did they fail to understand it? Do they not trust the result? Is the price wrong? Or is the problem simply not urgent?
A free trial can reveal usability problems. A real payment supplies a different kind of signal.
One order, of course, does not prove a business. You still have to learn whether the customer is satisfied, returns, or recommends you to someone else.
You need it. Other people will pay for it. You can keep doing it over time.
Why Should the Customer Pay You Again Next Month?
I want recurring revenue. But “I want to collect money every month” is not a reason for a customer to pay every month.
The way you charge should match the way value appears.
For content that is unlocked once and used for a long time, a one-time purchase may make sense—as long as future maintenance costs are included in the decision.
For continuously updated content or an ongoing service, a subscription may fit. You need to say clearly what continues to arrive during the subscription.
For a service with very different usage levels and a meaningful cost each time it is used, charging per use or by credits may be more appropriate.
The payment model can change. The central question does not: does the customer believe this is worth the money?
Subscriptions in particular need a reason to renew. The user is not paying us a monthly allowance.
Curiosity may win the first payment. For the customer to stay, we usually have to keep placing the promised value in their hands.
After Money Arrives, You Still Need to Keep Profit—and a Life
Commercializing a product brings two more questions. They are not romantic, but there is no way around them.
The first is: where does the next customer come from?
The first few people may buy because they know you. After that, can search, content, referrals, or partnerships help you meet people who truly have the need? Every channel requires an investment. Writing content costs time too.
The second is: what remains after each additional order?
Platform and payment fees, AI usage, servers, customer acquisition, refunds, and support all have to be recorded. Your own working hours belong in the calculation as well.
Suppose an order brings in CNY 100 and its variable costs total CNY 30. That leaves CNY 70 at first. But fixed expenses and taxes have not been deducted, and your time has not been priced.
If every order sends you scrambling for two hours, you need to look again at the price, delivery scope, and process. Which part needs to change?
The numbers are hypothetical, but the reminder is real: when revenue grows, check whether your exhaustion is growing too.
I want to move gradually toward a state in which people need what I make and are willing to buy it; I can deliver reliably, retain a margin after costs, and still have energy left to create.
That is the kind of small business I am willing to run for a long time.
Rest, Wholeness, Slowness: If the Business Is to Last, the Person Needs Care Too
I take earning money seriously because a body of work needs continued investment, and life comes with bills.
But I do not want to turn every day into a chart waiting to go up.
If a product sells poorly, perhaps its positioning, price, or experience needs work. That result should not easily become evidence that “I am a failure.”
This is also the philosophy I want to carry into work and life:
Yixiu—rest first: care for the body, settle the emotions, then continue.
When you are tired, allow yourself to pause. Some decisions become clearer after a good night’s sleep than after forcing yourself to work until dawn.
Buer—do not divide life into simple judgments: receive peaks and valleys, and embrace wholeness instead of perfection.
Here it reminds me to judge a product and its business honestly without rushing to label myself or anyone else a success or failure because of one temporary result.
Sanman—slow down, go gradually, and become over time.
Do the next piece of work well. Listen to one piece of honest feedback. Complete one dependable delivery. Let the business grow into its own rhythm.
Like water—take root within and flow outward; adapt to change without losing what matters.
Listen to the market, and remember why you began.
Build slowly. Live well too.
We want to accompany one another through valleys and peaks, exploring healthier ways to work and live; to face ourselves and the world honestly, treat ourselves, other people, and life with care, and discover beauty through creating and appreciating.
Move gradually from “I love making this” to “people need it, will pay for it, and I can keep doing it.”
Turn what you love into a business, and shape your days into a life you still want to continue.
#RestWholenessSlowness
The illustrations draw on the Anime style recommended by Xiazi Style Atlas. A warm corner shop becomes a way to picture the relationship among creation, exchange, and daily life—and another exercise in visual taste and expression.