News that Audi Motors had forced the world's top car brands to accept a China-led crash test?
Domestic netizens were thrilled.
"Finally, they're bowing their heads."
"It's about time a Chinese company made them eat their pride."
But across the ocean, reactions were mixed, bordering on disbelief.
To many Westerners, China was still trapped in a dated image: low-tech, knockoff-heavy, lagging. The idea that a Chinese company—and not just any, but one they barely recognized—was spearheading the world's strictest crash test? Unthinkable.
Online, outrage swelled.
"Wait, why is the crash test happening in China?"
"They don't even have standard testing facilities, do they?"
"Why are these major brands using Audi's testing plan? This is humiliating."
"What, are their standards stricter than ours now?"
And then a pause.
"...Are their products more trustworthy now?"
"I'll be honest. If their test is that advanced, I want to try one of their cars when it hits our market."
"Say what you will—Audi's tech is ahead of the curve."
The shift in tone was fundamental.
Even critics were admitting:
"Whatever else you say, this is good for consumers. A clear, transparent safety benchmark helps everyone."
The real irony?
Those same foreign brands, once so loud in their dominance, were now dead silent.
No denials. No PR spin.
Because what could they say?
Jumping out to argue now would only make them look petty—and worse, scared.
Better to stay quiet. Let Audi burn out. Wait for the crash test… and pray the results come out in their favor.
But what if they didn't?
What if they lost?
Inside CS Auto, Haifeng was focused not on PR but on the bigger picture.
It was never just about the test.
"I want this Five-Star Crash Test Standard to become the global default," he told his team.
"If we do this right, this becomes an annual benchmark. Like the Olympics of car safety."
He didn't care whether the legacy brands played along. Once consumers embraced the test, the companies would have no choice.
"Even if their results are bad," Haifeng said, "they'll still line up to take the test—because if they don't, buyers will ask what they're afraid of."
Once the test arrangements were set, Haifeng returned to China Star Technologies to oversee the second wave of Hongmeng S2 sales.
The demand was still ferocious.
Most of the competition—Xiaomi, Oppo, Vivo—had gone quiet. With the S2 dominating headlines, no one dared price their new models over ¥2500 (~$343). Even Apple clones were treading carefully.
The S2 was that good.
Any product over that price point now had to justify itself against it, and most couldn't.
And today marked the second official online release.
However, only 1 million units were available due to limited chip yields.
The Zhulong A2 processor was still difficult to manufacture. But Wanwan, head of production, had reassured everyone:
"With more experience, we'll get more efficient."
Even with that constraint, the result was predictable:
Sold out in under 10 minutes.
Some lucky users cheered. Others were furious that they still couldn't get one.
Haifeng noticed the backlash.
He sat in his office, reviewing the chatter, and frowned.
After a moment, he looked up at Xiao Ai, who was pouring him tea.
"Call Liu Jianyu in."
Within minutes, Jianyu arrived.
"Chairman Lu, what's the issue?"
Haifeng leaned forward.
"What do you think about doing a third wave of Hongmeng S2 sales, as pre-orders?"
That caught Jianyu off guard.
The S2's demand was white-hot. Every wave so far had sold out instantly. The scarcity itself was part of the marketing. What you can't buy is what people chase harder.
Hunger marketing had been working well.
Jianyu hesitated.
"Honestly, Chairman, demand is still strong. If we open pre-orders now, it might deflate the hype."
He wasn't wrong. Pre-orders kill urgency. Right now, S2 was a legend in short supply. That drove hype, resale buzz, and media coverage.
But Haifeng shook his head.
"I understand your concern. But in the long run, we have to respect our users."
"We're not just selling a product—we're building trust. And constantly baiting them with false scarcity? That's not sustainable."
"I don't want people feeling like they're chasing our phones. I want them to feel confident in us."
Jianyu paused.
He saw the point.
But…
"Then how should we run the pre-sale?"