Chapter Twenty-Five: Raising the Employees’ Wages Invites Retaliation from Rivals

Xu Wanying’s beautiful eyes widened in alarm. She grabbed a tissue from the table and began frantically wiping Zhang Fan, only to end up knocking another cup of tea over onto his lap.

Zhang Fan looked at the flustered Xu Wanying, sighed at her terrified expression, and shook his head. "Alright, alright, stop wiping. I'll do it myself. If you keep going, things might get out of hand."

Seeing that Zhang Fan wasn't angry, Xu Wanying felt a wave of relief, though curiosity quickly followed. *What did he mean by "things getting out of hand"? I’d better leave...*

Meanwhile, Zhao Xiaolu, who had been recording everything, frowned ever so slightly. Her mission was to dig up dirt on Zhang Fan and expose his ugly side as instructed by the station director. Yet, after what had just happened, there wasn't a trace of anger on the handsome boss's face.

*How is that possible?*

She had dealt with many big shots—industry leaders, government officials, and the like. Beneath their polished exteriors, they were no different from ordinary people, merely performing for the public. Any other big shot, if put in Zhang Fan’s position, would have snapped at Xu Wanying. At the very least, they would have frowned or uttered a few sharp words. But Zhang Fan didn’t. All she could see on his face was a wry smile; there was no genuine irritation.

Zhao Xiaolu felt a chill. Either Zhang Fan was a rare, true gentleman, or he possessed an incredible level of emotional restraint. *This is going to be difficult.*

Regaining her composure, Zhao Xiaolu threw out her first question. "Mr. Zhang, may I ask why you are offering such high compensation to ten interns who haven't even graduated yet? Fifty thousand per person—that’s a monthly payroll of half a million. Your company was just founded; surely it isn't profitable yet?"

Facing the camera, Zhang Fan remained calm and collected. "It’s simple. It’s because of my ex-wife."

Zhao Xiaolu had been ready to follow up on his previous point, but the mention of his ex-wife left the seasoned journalist stunned. She stared at him, blankly. A few seconds later, she recovered. "Ah? Because of your ex-wife? Is there a story behind this?"

A cold glint appeared in Zhang Fan’s eyes as he spoke with righteous conviction. "My ex-wife was obsessed with the United States. After we divorced, she immediately found an American husband. Every day, she would brag on social media about how rich and superior life in the U.S. is—how high the wages are, and so on. I just couldn't stand her attitude. I decided to start with myself and give every worker here wages equal to, or even higher than, what they get in America. It’s that simple."

Zhao Xiaolu’s eyes widened. In all her years as a journalist, she had never heard such a bold, brash answer. She remembered that only twenty years ago, the owner of Pang Dong Lai in Yuzhou had said something similar—and he had actually kept his promise. His employees received as much time off as students on winter and summer breaks, and even the cleaners earned seven or eight thousand a month. But that was limited to Yuzhou; it was impossible to expand elsewhere because of the ruthless suppression from competing capital.

Could Zhang Fan really intend to attempt what even the owner of Pang Dong Lai couldn't achieve? For a moment, Zhao Xiaolu forgot she was there to dig up dirt. Her heart raced, and she looked at Zhang Fan with a newfound intensity.

"Mr. Zhang, may I ask where this confidence comes from? Do you mean to say you intend to gradually expand your business and bring all your employees' wages up to par with those of Americans? That... that isn't easy."

Zhang Fan gave a proud laugh, lit a cigarette, and shed any pretense of the typical "successful businessman." Instead, he crossed his legs, took a drag, and spoke with a rugged, defiant air. "So what? If the Americans can do it, so can we Chinese! Furthermore, in the future, China will only get better than them! As long as you work for my company, in any position, I will pay more than the Americans! That's a fact."

His words left Zhao Xiaolu feeling electrified. Even though she was there under orders, she was, at the end of the day, a working person herself. How could she not be moved by a boss who stood up for the workers like that? She stood up abruptly and looked at him with genuine admiration.

"Mr. Zhang, you are absolutely right! I believe you can reach your goal step by step. Once this interview is released, it will cause a massive stir in society. Let’s end the interview here for today."

Zhang Fan stood up to see her out.

***

Half an hour later, at the Haishi Television Station, in the director’s office. After listening to Zhao Xiaolu’s report and watching the footage, the middle-aged director’s face went dark. He slammed his hand against the desk.

*Bang!*

He stood up and glared at Zhao Xiaolu in a rage. "I sent you to find dirt on Zhang Fan, and this is what you bring back? Are you kidding me? If this footage is broadcast, aren't we just giving him free publicity? Zhao Xiaolu, what am I supposed to do with you!"

Zhao Xiaolu was shocked, looking at the director in confusion. "Boss, is what Zhang Fan said wrong? Why should we be inferior to the U.S.? If he is willing to improve the lives of his employees, that’s a wonderful thing. Someone like him might even be honored as a role model. If CCTV finds out, they would praise him by name."

The director stopped pacing and glared at her viciously. "Don't give me that grand narrative nonsense, I'm sick of it! Surpassing the U.S.? Does he think he can just run his mouth like that? Do you know why I wanted the dirt on him?"

Zhao Xiaolu didn't know, so she simply frowned and stared back at him in silence.

The director forced himself to explain. "It’s because he’s paying those ten employees too much! Ever since he trended on all the major platforms yesterday, I’ve received calls from at least four internet company owners in Haishi. They demanded I find a way to smear Zhang Fan, or they would pull all their sponsorship from our evening news!"

He walked up to her, clearly dissatisfied. "If an entrepreneur like Zhang Fan is allowed to grow, don't those other bosses have to raise their own wages? Won't their labor costs skyrocket? Zhao Xiaolu, you’re usually so smart, how could you..." The director was too angry to finish.

Zhao Xiaolu felt a chill go through her. She hadn't expected Zhang Fan’s peers to join forces so quickly to launch an attack—and through a smear campaign that would be hard to recover from. They would rather spend money on traffic to drag Zhang Fan down than share their profits with their workers.

She knew that not every internet user would follow up on a story. Once this filth was splashed on Zhang Fan, even if he were cleared later, many people would never see the follow-up. The reputation he had just built would be wiped out.

*Dirty. This is truly dirty.*

Zhao Xiaolu remained silent for a long time, then bowed her head. "Alright, Director, I understand. I'll go edit the video maliciously right now."

The director waved her away impatiently.

***

Elsewhere, Zhang Fan had just arrived home when Zhao Xiaolu’s call came through.

"Ms. Zhao, what is it?" Zhang Fan asked, sitting on his sofa.

Zhao Xiaolu’s tone was grave. "Mr. Zhang, I know it’s late, but I need to see you in person. This matter concerns the survival of your enterprise—and perhaps your own safety."

Zhang Fan raised an eyebrow. "It’s that serious? Alright, I’ll send you my address. Come over immediately."

Twenty minutes later, when Zhang Fan heard the doorbell and opened the door, Zhao Xiaolu rushed in and grabbed his arm, heedless of the intimacy of the contact, her heart racing with anxiety.

"Mr. Zhang, something terrible has happened! A matter of life and death!"