中國消費者可以在美團點評上訂各種各樣的美味——蝦餃、辣雞腿、大閘蟹。只要應用里點幾下，嗖的一聲，50多萬美團送餐員當中一位就會出現在你家門口。人們還可以在美團上預定美發服務、酒店房間或電影票，還可以查看對餐廳的評價。每天美團都有一千多萬活躍用戶，成為中國最大的在線按需服務提供商。

但有一樣東西美團無法提供（至少到目前為止），就是利潤。過去三年里，這家總部位于北京的合資公司每年都在虧損。2017年美團燒錢接近30億美元。而下周在香港上市時，其預期發行價對應的估值將超過450億美元。

如果倒退幾個月前看，沒什么問題。全球投資者都愿意向虧損的中國科技初創公司投入數十億計的資金，哪怕股權結構復雜，信息披露也不夠透明。畢竟，中國中產階層迅速壯大難道不是本世紀最重大的變化之一嗎？投資美團等公司不就像1997年買亞馬遜的股票嗎？

近來，這些問題的答案似乎不那么肯定了。盡管美國科技公司一路高歌猛進，股價屢創新高，這個夏天中國科技明星企業都過得很不順。中國兩大科技巨頭——阿里巴巴和騰訊的股價已從6月份的高點回落20%，阿里是因為外界擔心其利潤滑坡，騰訊則是受政府嚴控在線游戲銷售影響。京東的股價也因為投資者擔心業績低迷而面臨壓力。近期，京東創始人劉強東在明尼蘇達州涉嫌性侵被拘留，股價更是跌至19個月來低點。

6月份小米登陸香港交易所，是今年以來上市規模最大的中國科技公司，目前股價已回落到發行價水平。中國第三大電子商務平臺拼多多7月份在納斯達克上市后步履維艱，最近還出現了動物販子在拼多多上出售瀕危穿山甲的不利消息。另外，由于網約車司機奸殺女乘客，叫車服務巨頭滴滴出行面臨監管部門的嚴格調查，還有公眾的怒火。

可以認為種種事件并不相關，只是碰巧各公司都遇到麻煩。但在我看來，這種現象可能反映出更大的趨勢。過去三個月，各界對待中國科技行業不再那么寬容。經濟正在減速，人們熱議消費降級。中美貿易戰使得人們對前景充滿不確定性，政府對科技行業的彈壓力度也前所未有。隨著行業走向成熟，充滿理想的創始人編織著增長和無限機遇的美好畫卷已行不通，只有管理者具備嚴格執行力，且治理透明的公司成功的機會才更大。（財富中文網）

譯者：Charlie

審校：夏林

Consumers in China use Meituan-Dianping to order all manner of delectables: shrimp dumplings, spicy chicken feet, hairy crab. A few taps on the app and, presto, one of Meituan’s more than 500,000 drivers is at your door. The service also is handy for booking a haircut, hotel, or movie ticket, and checking restaurant reviews. More than ten million people use Meituan each day, making it China’s largest on-demand online services provider.

There is one thing Meituan does not deliver (at least not yet): profits. The Beijing-based venture has lost money in each of the last three years; in 2017 it burned through nearly $3 billion. And yet, when Meituan lists in Hong Kong next week, it is expected to seek a share price implying a valuation of more than $45 billion.

Until only a few months ago, there was nothing odd about this. Global investors were happy to fork over billions for money-losing Chinese tech startups with convoluted ownership structures and murky disclosure practices. After all, wasn’t China’s burgeoning middle class one of the most profound developments of the 21st century? Shouldn’t investing companies like Meituan be considered an opportunity comparable to the chance to buy Amazon back in 1997?

Lately answers to such questions don’t seem so obvious. China tech stars have had a miserable summer—even as their American counterparts soar to record highs. Shares of China’s two tech giants, Alibaba Group and Tencent Holdings, have tumbled 20% from peaks in June—the former hurt by concerns about declining profits and the latter dragged down by a government crackdown on the sale of online games. JD.com’s shares, already weighed down by investor concerns about weak earnings, have plunged to a 19-month low following founder Richard Liu’s arrest in Minnesota this week on rape charges.

Xiaomi, whose June debut on the Hong Kong exchange is the year’s biggest China tech listing so far, has slumped back to its IPO price. Pinduoduo, China’s third-largest e-commerce platform, has languished since listing on the NASDAQ in July—and won’t benefit from recent reports that its site is a favorite of animal traffickers selling endangered pangolins. Meanwhile, China’s ride-hailing powerhouse, Didi Chuxing, faces regulatory scrutiny and public outrage after a driver from one of its car-pool services raped and murdered a female passenger.

It’s tempting to dismiss all these mishaps as unrelated—a series of unfortunate events. But it feels to me like there’s something bigger going on. Over the past three months, China’s tech sector has become a much less forgiving place. The economy is slowing, consumers are hunkering down. The U.S.-China trade war has created a climate of uncertainty and Beijing is squeezing China’s tech sector more tightly than ever. As the industry matures, the advantage is shifting from companies with visionary founders who spin fancy yarns about growth and limitless opportunities to those run by solid execution-oriented managers operating in transparent governance structures.