Fang Tianzhuo had barely stepped out of the hotel lobby when his department manager called, voice frantic:
"Tianzhuo! Where are you? Something's happened at Tianfu Project. Mr. Luo was asking for you this morning—you need to get here now."
Something happened? Had Zhengyang's gangster CEO moved that fast? Fang Tianzhuo's heart skipped a beat. The boss had asked for him personally? A flicker of pride lit up—his recent performance must've caught Luo's eye. This was his chance to climb, to reach a level where he could face Wang Shaolong head-on.
The taxi pulled up to Donghua's marketing headquarters. He headed straight for the marketing office, but was immediately intercepted by Luo's secretary and ushered into the chairman's office. The room was packed with executives and board members, seated in a tense circle.
"Tianzhuo. You hear about last night?" Luo cut straight to the chase.
Last night? He'd been too busy with Chen Yuqi to notice. Fang Tianzhuo's gut twisted—walking into this unprepared was a mistake.
The marketing director quickly filled him in: Sometime after midnight, two bulldozers, escorted by thugs, had flattened Donghua's half-built structures at Tianfu, carving two wide, straight roads to the lake. Several employees were injured.
Fang Tianzhuo knew instantly—this was Zhengyang's CEO's handiwork.
"Any leads on who's behind it?" he asked, forcing calm.
"Officially, just thugs. But the only ones with a grudge here are Zhengyang. No proof, though." The director grimaced.
Perfect, Fang Tianzhuo thought.
"If that's the case, we can't accuse Zhengyang outright. But if we do nothing, it'll happen again." He kept his tone steady.
"That's why we're here—figuring out what to do." The director nodded.
"There's a way. It'll take work, though." Fang Tianzhuo's voice was casual, deliberate.
"Spit it out." Luo leaned forward.
"We don't ignore it. We amplify it. Stir up a storm."
"Won't that tank Tianfu's reputation? Hurt the company?" The director looked alarmed.
"It'll hurt, but in a good way. Tianfu'll get attention, and we'll look like the good guys—standing up to thugs." Fang Tianzhuo's certainty silenced the room.
"How?" Luo pressed.
"First, a city-wide press conference. Lay out the facts, vow to uncover the truth, shut down rumors, reaffirm our commitment to Tianfu."
"Second, file a police report. Push authorities to speed up the investigation, update the media regularly."
"Third, post updates—incident details, responses, progress—on our internal and external sites. Keep it fresh."
He spoke with crisp precision, no room for doubt.
"What's the endgame?" the director persisted.
"Two things. One: Scare the thugs into lying low. Two: Use the media to smoke out who's pulling the strings. Rattle those corrupt planners. Maybe even force them to reverse the zoning change."
Chaos erupted. Some argued antagonizing officials would cripple future projects—Donghua had bribed its share in the past. Others insisted cleaning house could boost their image.
Debate dragged on until Luo dismissed everyone but the board, leaving Fang Tianzhuo and the others to wait, anxious, outside. An hour later, the door opened. The directors looked stone-faced. The secretary called Fang Tianzhuo in.
Alone with Luo in the cavernous office, tension hung thick.
"What do you handle in marketing?" Luo asked, idle.
"Managing local contractors and suppliers, mostly." It sounded lucrative, but it was a dead-end—choices were made by his superiors. He was just a gofer, schmoozing for scraps.
"You've impressed lately. The board's promoting you to Special Administrative Assistant to the Chairman. You'll handle daily operations and crises." Luo's tone brooked no argument.
Joy surged—this was a mid-level role, equal to a department head, with real clout. For a grad barely a year out of college, it was a rocket ride.
"So I'm in charge of the Tianfu mess?"
"Exactly. The board approved your plan. You're running point. My secretary, Rui Jie, will help coordinate. Get the press conference done by tonight." Luo stood, ending the meeting.
Fang Tianzhuo left, elated but uneasy. Promotion meant he was now on the front lines against Zhengyang—outgunned, maybe, but ready to fight.
He found Rui Jie, ordered a meeting with lawyers, PR, and the web team in ten minutes. Assignments flew: PR would line up top TV and newspapers for an evening press banquet; lawyers would file the police report and draft appeals to officials (Fang Tianzhuo would handle in-person visits later); the web team would post updates online, linking to news sites.
The press banquet at Oriental Hotel went flawlessly. Fang Tianzhuo's impassioned speech—equal parts outrage and resolve—won over every reporter. Sympathy for Donghua, curiosity about Tianfu, and outrage at the violence filled the room.
By nightfall, police had opened an investigation. Donghua's site was blowing up, with links across news portals. Tomorrow's headlines would be brutal—and exactly what he wanted.
Business was war; seizing the initiative meant victory. And in business, as in politics, the media was a weapon.
"Mr. Fang? I'm from NetEase News. Could I steal a quick interview?"
He turned. A young woman—early twenties, tall, elegant—stood before him. Her features were delicate, fair, so similar to Yanran's that his breath caught. But she was slimmer, her eyes softer, less sharp, her voice clearer, purer.
Her press pass read: Wang Zhixin, Intern Reporter, NetEase News. A name as sweet as her smile. He hadn't invited online outlets—she'd crashed the event. Interns rarely got interviews; she must've pushed for this.
Something about her—those eager eyes, that stubborn drive, the way she moved, so like Yanran—tugged at him. Most reporters had left. He nodded.
"Let's find a quiet spot."
They sat in a corner. Wang Zhixin pulled out a digital camera and fired off shots, her eagerness reminding him of his own school days, interviewing principals for the student paper.
He smiled, unbidden.