A VC firm from the Crypto world says AI is too crazy; they are very conservative.

elsewhere

Many people say that the AI industry, in some ways, is becoming more like the Crypto industry.

Jingwen from Impa Ventures, someone who used to work in the Crypto industry, says that compared to today’s AI, they even seem quite conservative.

Jingwen describes herself as a 93-year-old girl who aspires to VC but “mistakenly” entered Crypto, and accidentally earned her first bucket of gold in life.

During the peak of FBG Capital (a Crypto Fund), she was part of that accelerated crypto world. With just words, she could invest hundreds of thousands of dollars. A story could grow wildly, exploding with coins.

In 2024, she co-founded Impa Ventures with Shiran and James (Liang Jie). Shiran was Jingwen’s colleague at FBG, and James was an old colleague of Shiran at Huachuang Capital.

Jingwen says they are a Problem First fund—looking at the problem first, then the solution.

Impa Ventures currently has a scale of $50 million, focusing on early-stage. So far, out of nine projects they’ve invested in, eight are B2B.

Three months ago, Liu Jing shared part of this story in “Chinese Investment Stories.” At that time, he talked with James about the inner world of a investor who missed Pinduoduo. We’ve placed this part at the end of the article to help you understand the team’s temperament of this new fund. Recently, we spoke again with Jingwen and James.

This is the fifth new fund story presented by “elsewhere,” following Nebulon Ventures, Source Rhythm, Creek Stone, and Little Fund.

AI seems to be playing the Crypto game

elsewhere: Before deciding to start an AI-focused investment fund, you had been investing in Crypto for a long time. Can you tell us the story back then?

Jingwen: In 2017, I graduated from Tsinghua University’s Schwarzman College. Coincidentally, my graduation thesis was related to Crypto, so I talked to many people. Someone thought I was looking for a job and introduced me to Zhou Shuoji, the boss of FBG Capital.

At that time, it was really hard to find serious backgrounds in the crypto space. I was from NUS Computer Science and Schwarzman College, so I went for an interview.

The process was quite absurd: the boss was over an hour late, sat down and asked me what my current offer salary was. I said 7,000 SGD, and he directly said, “I’ll double that.” I felt at that moment that this place was just full of crazy rich people.

elsewhere: But that salary still tempted you.

Jingwen: The original offer was for September start, but I thought, since I was graduating in June and had nothing to do, I’d go there for three months first, see what these people are about.

It turned out to be the peak of wild growth. At that time, FBG was Asia’s top blockchain fund, with LPs including Sequoia and Ribbit Capital. The boss himself was very wealthy, so investments were very casual. My job was to fly globally, attend various events—Berlin, San Francisco, Tokyo, Singapore. Sometimes I’d meet the boss in the corridor, tell him I liked a project—tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands of dollars—and in just a few words, the money was invested.

elsewhere: How long did this peak last?

Jingwen: Just about half a year. By 2018, the bull market was ending, and 2019 fully entered a bear market. My work suddenly changed 180 degrees: from distributing money to asking for money. Projects that once received 1 million USD, now I had to go back and recover 500k USD. That’s it. After that, I basically stopped investing.

elsewhere: Looking back now, what kind of world was Crypto?

Jingwen: Crypto is a world that was accelerated. Essentially, it’s a process of a new technology emerging and landing. There are many similarities with what’s happening in AI now.

And one more thing that’s somewhat similar: building teams, hyping narratives, manipulating data, then exiting. In the current AI game, the successors have become institutions and LPs, but the game logic hasn’t changed.

Speaking of Crypto—I don’t think that world is gone. It’s moving toward a more solid foundation: real applications, on-chain fundamentals, especially the integration with AI, which I believe has many truly promising directions.

We just don’t want to copy that game in AI. Impa starts with its own money—we treat our own funds and external capital the same. Only then can we more purely seek that true Alpha.

We are a conservative AI fund

elsewhere: Tell us about your fund.

Jingwen: Starting in 2024, Shiran, James (Liang Jie), and I launched this early-stage AI-focused fund. Shiran and James are colleagues from Huachuang, I was colleagues with Shiran at FBG. We’ve invested in 9 projects so far.

“Chinese founders + global markets” is a big opportunity given by the era, and we’re still in early stages. Day one global is our fund’s biggest feature: Shiran and I are based in Singapore, James is usually based in Shanghai; among the 9 projects, 3 are in Shenzhen, 2 in Singapore, 1 in the US, 1 in Sydney, 1 in Shanghai.

elsewhere: Why is it called Impa Ventures?

Jingwen: Impa is an NPC from “The Legend of Zelda.” When the protagonist starts the main quest, Impa provides maps and guidance. She’s a key part of the protagonist completing the quest, but she’s definitely not the main character. What we can do is, in their earliest stages, become a part of helping them get things done.

This understanding is actually the starting point of our entire investment methodology—since the founders are the main characters, what we do isn’t betting on narratives, but finding those who are truly solving problems.

elsewhere: As a new fund, many people probably ask: what’s your differentiation?

Jingwen: Our starting point for projects is quite different from most funds—we don’t first define a sector, but first identify the problem. So, what we ultimately invest in is naturally different.

We are true AI believers, believing that AI is reshaping many fundamental infrastructures of industries. This isn’t just narrative; it’s happening in reality. But we’ve also experienced that Crypto cycle—seeing how bubbles grow and burst. So we understand the difference between waves and the ocean.

Believe in AI, but skeptical of many narratives under the AI banner.

elsewhere: How do you distinguish between waves and the ocean?

Jingwen: AI Believer, but Skeptical. Long-term optimistic about the industry, but skeptical about specific projects.

Judgment is based on a few things:

• Problem First, not Narrative First.

Start from the problem, not from the sector. We don’t first set an “AI + X” theme and then look for projects; instead, we identify a real, underestimated pain point, then ask: who is solving this? Is the solution feasible? Founders who can answer these two questions are more valuable than any shiny background.

• Global by default, not Global by design.

In university, I interned in Israel for half a year in VC, which was my first real understanding of how venture capital works. I also saw founders there with small local markets but global ambitions. Israelis naturally think day one global. That experience deeply influenced me, and that’s when I decided to do VC.

Later, in Crypto investing, many projects I invested in weren’t Chinese teams but truly global developer ecosystems—flying to Berlin, San Francisco, Sweden, and meeting many talented developers, some of whom later moved into AI.

• Young but experienced.

In our team, James is the only one born in the 80s; the others are born in the 90s, 95, or 00s. No historical baggage, but all three partners have gone through full cycles and have successful exits. Having experienced bear markets, our judgment on “real needs” versus “bubble narratives” is different.

elsewhere: In AI, what kind of game do you want to play?

Jingwen: Our methodology boils down to four words—“Respect Common Sense,” especially business common sense. Some might think we’re too conservative.

Many now look at founders through a “colorful bubble,” believing that only those from big companies or top universities can succeed. But what have you actually created for customers? Has your productivity truly covered costs?

Impa cares more about value creation.

elsewhere: What are some unsexy but sensible projects?

Jingwen: We invested in a project called “Lightyear Reach.” The founder met with over 100 investors; everyone thought B2B was unsexy. But after talking with him, I found he addressed a real need in China’s supply chain going abroad: many small factories lack overseas marketing capabilities. He uses AI to help them automatically find customers and do advertising. It’s a typical “distribution intelligence” process.

The model company creates intelligence, but how to sell that intelligence into specific scenarios is an entrepreneurial opportunity. These projects may not be fancy, but their business is solid.

In Australia, we also invested in a medical admin AI project. It doesn’t touch diagnosis or treatment, only solves the most tedious administrative processes like appointments, triage, and summaries. Overseas, these processes were traditionally handled by manpower over the phone, but now AI can fully digitize the entire process.

We prefer projects that first solve existing, confirmed “pain points,” rather than fantasizing about vague needs.

elsewhere: VC is a business of seeking excess returns. Can such investments be realized?

Jingwen: For example, we invested in a digital human company on the client side, betting on 3D real-time digital humans. The topic of digital humans isn’t new in capital markets, but our logic is simple: they offload rendering to the user’s device, only transmitting driving data from the cloud, reducing costs by 99% compared to mainstream cloud solutions.

We estimate that serving hundreds of thousands of overseas users daily could generate tens of millions of dollars in ARR. The team has top scientists in 3D digital humans, aiming to achieve the quality of Cai Haoyu’s Anuttacon LPM video model, but running on phones and browsers. Multimodal AI and social entertainment scenarios have huge potential.

Our core goal is to find the extremes in Power Law—businesses that can grow to hundreds of millions of dollars, but not those that can reach billions. We simply won’t invest in those.

elsewhere: Your dreams are big…

Jingwen: When I was in college, I had a funny dream—I wanted to make it onto the Midas List.

elsewhere: That’s a dream many VC investors share.

Jingwen: I knew about the Midas List when I was in college. It’s not that I thought being on it was so impressive. My thinking was: early-stage investing is what I love, and I want to reach a milestone in what I enjoy doing.

Looking back, that so-called “dream” is pretty naive, but often people don’t have goals at all. Having such a “funny” goal is still better than having none.

Three months ago, a conversation with James

@Jing Liu

When I first started updating the “Chinese Investment Stories” series, I wrote about a person titled: “The Forgotten Person in the Pinduoduo Capital Myth.”

The story is roughly: a Sequoia investment manager, who early on knew Huang Zheng, and repeatedly pushed Pinduoduo (then called Pinhuihao) onto IC. But due to various circumstances, it never went through. Until he left six months later, Sequoia invested. That was a key round in Pinduoduo’s history, which later became a legendary Sequoia investment.

Whether related to or unrelated to the $500k return, it’s just that six-month gap.

This person is Liang Jie. Between 2012 and 2016, he worked at Sequoia, and it was during this period that he saw Huang Zheng and Pinduoduo.

Honestly, in the investment industry, stories like this aren’t rare. As long as you haven’t become a partner—even a managing partner (GP)—9 out of 10 investors have a pile of stories of their own struggles.

Liang Jie is one of the most memorable people I’ve met. It even became a long-term narrative about him.

A few years ago, he came from Shanghai to Beijing on a business trip. We arranged to meet at the Westin in Liangmaqiao. It was late at night when we met; I initially wanted to discuss industry topics, but somehow we quickly started talking about this story. He casually pulled out a pitch deck from the Pinhuihao era. His memory is so precise he can recall the layout and wording of each page.

After leaving Sequoia, he went to two other funds, and later ran a fund focused on overseas markets. But those were just ordinary years.

Perhaps because I was also new to the investment industry when I met Liang Jie, and amidst many legends, this reversed story stood out, leaving more impressions.

Before 2020, China’s VC industry was fully focused on B2B. Liang Jie still insisted on looking at B2C and platforms. I remember he said: if in China, the only remaining opportunity is B2B, he would quit. That’s not his conviction.

elsewhere: I didn’t tell you in advance that I’d write about you, and this isn’t exactly a “good story.” When you saw it, what was your feeling?

Liang Jie: A bit surprised. But I don’t want to be labeled as “unlucky.”

First, I don’t think luck can explain everything. It’s definitely because my own accumulation isn’t enough—like handling matters and relationships, or my conviction isn’t strong enough; secondly, luck is important, but it also requires accumulation. For someone at the table, not participating means always having a chance.

elsewhere: If you could go back ten years, would you be more confident to push Pinduoduo (Pinhuihao) through IC?

Liang Jie: Certainly. Compared to ten years ago, I’ve made some progress in both business understanding and how to push things forward.

elsewhere: Some comments in the discussion say: since you believe so much, why didn’t you buy Pinduoduo stock in the secondary market later?

Liang Jie: In 2015, investing in an early-stage company and buying stock after its IPO in 2018 are two completely different timeframes and things.

A more appropriate question might be: if I was so optimistic, why didn’t I join Pinduoduo or invest a bit myself back then?

Honestly, I didn’t think about it at the time. The $600 million valuation and the cash I had at hand didn’t seem to match. But that also shows I didn’t really understand—didn’t think I could make a hundred-billion-dollar business. After leaving Sequoia, I also talked with Colin (Huang Zheng) about other possibilities, like introducing LPs or joining his fund.

elsewhere: Do you regret leaving Sequoia? Maybe staying half a year or a year longer would have made it a story about you.

Liang Jie: In mid-2015, a major turning point happened, and that was one of the reasons I left.

That August, during Sequoia’s offsite, the consensus was: the focus of venture shifted from B2C to B2B, and vertical industries like education and healthcare. I was reluctant.

Fairly speaking, during the phase I was pushing, Neil Shen’s response was still positive. But honestly, did I have conviction that Pinduoduo could succeed? Not really. I just thought the story was big, the growth was fast, and the people were very strong.

elsewhere: How long did it take you to calm down?

Liang Jie: After the subsequent fund, I was actually fine. Every stage has more important themes.

Luo Xiang once said: After he became famous, he received a lot of insults, which made him uncomfortable. A friend asked: When you became famous and received many undeserved awards, did you feel ashamed or uncomfortable? He said no. Then why accept undeserved praise happily, but not accept unwarranted insults?

I think top figures in this industry—or any industry—are a small minority: smart, diligent, lucky. If we think we’re not stupid, and can still do things, comparing ourselves to that lucky minority is too greedy.

elsewhere: The story of missing out on IC investments is common in VC. Why do you think your story is so memorable (besides because I wrote about it!)?

Liang Jie: Maybe because later, the scale of Pinduoduo made it unavoidable. Like dating a girl who didn’t work out, but later became a superstar…

elsewhere: I remember you studied engineering. How did you get into VC?

Liang Jie: I did my undergrad in Materials, then a master’s in Microelectronics. During my master’s, I read “The Big Game,” which opened a window for me as a science and engineering student: capital markets are so fascinating and important. That seed of becoming a VC started to sprout.

In 2006, after graduating with my master’s, I desperately wanted to enter VC. But I had no opportunity. In the 2008 financial storm, a Swiss fund called Adveq interviewed me five rounds, almost offered me a position. Their founder visited Shanghai once, and I still vividly remember our chat at Jinmao Hyatt.

Later, I spent $499 on a financial modeling course, because many doubted I lacked financial background and couldn’t build models. I also sent over 100 resumes to Chinese VCs. Finally, in 2011, I got my only offer—Huadong International.

elsewhere: Then came Sequoia.

Liang Jie: Yes. Of course, after leaving, I realized even more that Sequoia was already the center of the universe.

elsewhere: How have these years been?

Liang Jie: I started my own fund, “Skyline Venture,” but it didn’t scale up (no institutional funding)—disappointed, but had to accept it—AI arrived, but I felt it was hard to participate—met like-minded partners, returned to the game—found huge opportunities with few participants—grateful and hopeful.

elsewhere: Do you sometimes feel that luck was just a bit short?

Liang Jie: Many smarter and more capable people have left this industry. I’m still involved in this wave of technology, so I feel lucky.

Early-stage investing has long feedback cycles, and a single outstanding success can overshadow many flaws. Everyone hopes for that small probability of good luck, which is irrational and unhealthy.

Last year, I went to Hangzhou’s Dali Flower to watch the China vs Australia game, lost 0-2. I met a TV reporter afterward; he asked why I was still smiling despite China’s loss. I said: the Chinese players on the field didn’t play badly; they all performed well, especially Wang Yudong. Australia was obviously stronger. Losing 0-2, I have nothing unacceptable.

It’s like a kid’s exam—if they usually score 70, and this time 75, what’s there to be unhappy about?

elsewhere: Once he scores 75, you still want him to try for 90, right?

Liang Jie: Of course, I’d be happier if he scored 90. But that expectation shouldn’t be forced.

elsewhere: As an investor, can you try to evaluate yourself?

Liang Jie: You can compare it to football. Playing football is something I can get into a state of flow very easily. Even when I don’t play well, I never stop. I started playing street football in a small county when I was in middle school, and I’ve kept at it until now.

After graduation, I was a main player in my team (as long as I showed up regularly, I was basically a starter), but I was never the one to decide the game. Over time, I realized that in recent years, I’ve gradually become someone who can influence the game.

Why? First, I have a competitive spirit; second, even when others’ performance drops significantly, my body can still maintain or even improve; then, my understanding of football deepened.

Analogous to investing, I think I can keep doing it. I missed the chance to become an overnight success, but I can persist until the end and influence the game.

elsewhere: Finally, I want to ask: are you aiming for 75 or 90 this time?

Liang Jie: Most things in life are beyond our control: our birth, IQ, opportunities. If we achieve something, we should thank factors outside ourselves. Talent is given by heaven, opportunities by the times—nothing to force. Only gratitude and being true to oneself.