Chapter 111: The Gathering of Titans

Page (1/3)

Of course, Gao Feng wouldn’t be so foolish. If he were truly the only one to receive such a letter, he would definitely pay a private visit to Zhao Changfeng and hand the letter over, as a personal favor.

Over these years, he had never shown any resentment toward Zhao Changfeng, so Zhao would be unlikely to refuse such a gesture.

He had no intention of asking his old classmate, Executive Vice Governor Li Jiaming. Although a simple inquiry to Li could easily reveal whether others had also received such letters, doing so would inevitably cause Li to underestimate his capabilities.

Li Jiaming was not only his classmate but also his backer within the provincial party committee, so Gao Feng was even more determined not to let Li look down on him. As a leader’s protégé, he had to try to solve problems independently whenever possible.

It was only at noon that Gao Feng made his first call. Calling at this hour was a way of waiting for rumors to surface. Even if those he called hadn’t seen the letter, they might already be aware of the matter, sparing him the trouble of calling around to investigate.

The first call was to Chen Wei, Deputy Governor of the province, who oversaw education and was his superior. Chen Wei’s role was similar to Zhang Yong’s in Yangjiang, both being leaders within the education system.

“Deputy Governor Chen, have you heard?” Gao Feng cautiously asked after confirming he was speaking to Chen Wei.

“Old Gao, what’s this about?” Chen Wei was puzzled. Gao Feng had always been diligent in his eyes, a subordinate he admired, especially since Gao was also Li Jiaming’s classmate. This made Chen Wei unusually courteous in their conversations.

“Oh?” Gao Feng hesitated briefly. “A letter… do you know about it?”

“A letter?” Chen Wei remained confused.

“Well, Deputy Governor Chen, if you don’t know about it, then it’s probably just a rumor, some street kid’s nonsense. No worries. Sorry to bother you,” Gao Feng said politely and promptly hung up once he confirmed Chen’s ignorance.

Chen Wei was a genuinely earnest official; though not especially capable, he was straightforward, very different from Gao Feng’s deliberately crafted image of a wheeler-dealer. Thus, Gao Feng trusted Chen Wei’s words implicitly.

The next call was meant for Zhou Xianrong, Party Secretary of Yangjiang City. If the letter’s author targeted Zhang Yong alone, not using Gao Feng as a pawn, then Zhou Xianrong, Zhang Yong’s direct superior, should have received one.

The phone rang twice—beep… beep…—and Gao Feng immediately hung up.

He suddenly realized his mistake: a foolish one. If others had also received similar letters, he could simply wait for them to inquire, as the news would eventually leak out. Why be the first to poke around?

He had lain low for so long, behaving honestly for years, so why rush now? Even if he caught Zhang Yong abusing his authority, it would only damage Zhang’s career, not Zhao Changfeng’s. On the contrary, it would shatter the honest image he had carefully built before Zhao.

Zhou Xianrong had intended to pick up the phone on the third ring, his usual habit. But when the ringing stopped after two rings, his gaze returned to the letter on his desk.

Page (2/3)

Who wanted to disgrace Zhang Yong? From the letter’s content, it was likely a teacher from the No. 2 Middle School. Zhou Xianrong saw no need to investigate further. Whether Zhang Yong was truly abusing power for his daughter’s sake, or the school’s teachers were fabricating accusations, none of it benefited Zhou.

Just moments ago, he had thought to hand the letter directly to Zhang Yong as a personal favor. But after some thought, he took a lighter from his drawer, ignited the letter, and let the ashes fall into the ashtray.

Better to avoid trouble. If he tried to curry favor by revealing this, Zhang Yong might accept it. But if Zhang grew suspicious, thinking Zhou held leverage over him and that his future actions would be subject to Zhou’s whims, that would be like the proverbial pig looking in the mirror—laughably foolish. Thus, burning the letter was the wisest choice in Zhou’s eyes. Whether or not other leaders had received such letters, he could pretend to be completely unaware.

Meanwhile, Wang Xunfei burned the midnight oil at his computer at home. It had been a week since his last call with Jiangxi Wen, but he still hadn’t perfected the program.

He lost count of how many times he’d checked the code he’d added, unable to find any errors. Yet, whenever he opened the executable file, the system crashed. Wang Xunfei was baffled.

Rubbing his slightly aching temples, he stopped staring at the screen.

Tomorrow held more important matters.

A friend had introduced a venture capitalist to him, who was coming to inspect his company. Of course, Wang couldn’t rely on the current half-finished instant messaging software to persuade the investor. Officially, the negotiation was to secure 500,000 RMB in operating capital.

What would convince the investor was not the software itself, but the three software contracts Wang had landed and his reputation in the software industry of Nanshen City.

His company had just been established, with only three employees. The registered capital came from assets borrowed from old friends and his savings of a hundred thousand yuan.

If the negotiation succeeded, he planned to pay the entire 500,000 RMB to Jiangxi Wen to purchase the network instant messaging software and its future development rights.

This 500,000 RMB was indeed crucial for operations, but Wang valued the company’s future prospects more—the vision of a network company centered on instant messaging software.

Of course, all this was based on his strong confidence. After buying Jiangxi Wen’s software, he could leverage the three projects in hand to revitalize his company.

After a quick hot shower, Wang Xunfei rested. He fell asleep easily and woke to see it was already eight in the morning. The investor was scheduled to arrive at ten.

He didn’t notify his employees in advance because he had already learned from his friend that the investor was straightforward and bold—a personality that preferred investing in young, vibrant companies.

Before every negotiation, Wang had adopted a new habit of gathering sufficient information, including the opponent’s habits.

Page (3/3)

Having freshened up and bought breakfast, he boarded the bus and arrived at the company promptly at nine.

He required employees to start at nine, which was more relaxed than the usual eight o’clock at most companies. But when projects demanded it, overtime was always possible.

First, it was his own company; second, there were few employees. Management was easy and flexible, and the team got along like friends. In the early days of a startup, a rough system was sufficient.

“Good morning, Brother Wang.” “Morning, Xunfei.” “Morning, Manager.” The three employees were already seated at their desks.

Their varied forms of address gave Wang Xunfei a rough idea of their personalities. He never insisted on uniform titles. Whether they called him “Manager” or by his name, he neither liked nor required it.

Making demands could reveal his personal preferences. He couldn’t guarantee constant vigilance. If he unconsciously favored one employee because of such preferences, it would breed resentment among others, who might then focus on currying favor—an inevitable management failure.

Wang’s desk was separated from the three employees by partitions—not to assert authority, but because his computer contained all company business data, including the half-finished network paging software from Jiangxi Wen, which needed to be confidential.

Soon, everyone began their day’s work. Wang opened the document and studied the paging software code again. These past few days, whether at work or off, he had been poring over this code, yet still had no idea how to complete it.

At ten o’clock, a knock sounded at the company door.

Punctual indeed, Wang thought with silent approval as he rose to open it.

He knew the visitors must be the investors. His friend had told him the investor was low-profile and often arrived unannounced, so Wang was not surprised.

Upon opening, he saw two casually dressed men. One was about his age, the other in his forties. The younger looked somewhat awkward; the older was reserved and composed.

Wang recognized the investor from photos and smiled immediately. “President Wu, you’re here. And this is?”

The older man nodded. “This is Xiao Lei, Lei Jun, a young friend’s classmate who works in software and understands your industry well, so I asked him to come along to assist.”

“Hello,” Lei Jun nodded to Wang.

Wang admired their carefulness but was confident that this insider would not derail the negotiation.