Whenever others confronted her, they always considered Lù Chéng’s position and tried to phrase things more delicately, often saying things like “I heard from someone else” that she intended to expose Lù Chéng and Zhōng Yì’s relationship.
A fallout.
When it was phrased gently, she still had room to maneuver.
But he refused that—he openly revealed Lù Chéng’s name himself.
Sister Cen was the most overwhelmed; the two most profitable artists under her management—one was about to leave, and the other was about to have a scandal.
Lù Chéng could directly go to Zhōu Shíyì to confront him, which would inevitably mean a complete break with her.
That movie she took the liberty of arranging for him, though bound by conditions, had an impeccable script and production team; he wouldn’t have fallen out with her over that.
The only reason was that he had found out she used the negative public opinion about Zhōng Zhuóhuá to divert attention from Feng Ming.
She had thought the matter was watertight and sufficiently concealed, but Jiang Jingyuan had still managed to trace it back to her.
Somewhere there had been a slip.
At this moment, her mind was in turmoil; she had no time to investigate further.
Since Lù Chéng no longer cared about their past ties and tore off the mask, how could she possibly let him have it easy?
“Director Zhou, conflicts between artists and companies are inevitable, especially for rising stars who are often assigned to bring in newcomers or take on roles they don’t want.
Besides, Lù Chéng and I have more issues than just that.”
She deliberately paused for a few seconds here.
It was also to give herself time to calm down.
“He just debuted recently. I forced him to break up with Zhōng Yì; neither of them wanted to end things.”
She refused to believe that Zhōu Shíyì wouldn’t mind even a bit.
“There was no choice. I could only find—”
Zhōu Shíyì cut in: “Zhōng Yì not only didn’t want to break up, she also rejected me.”
Sister Cen was stunned into silence.
Zhōu Shíyì sipped his coffee and looked at her, saying, “Zhōng Yì has refused me more than once. After breaking up with Lù Chéng, on New Year’s Eve, she rejected me again, saying dating would affect her studies. Yet at midnight, she was wishing Lù Chéng well.”
Sister Cen was shocked beyond belief.
Zhōu Shíyì said, “If I cared about what you’re saying, do you think I’d be sitting here talking to you about Lù Chéng today?”
“Director Zhou, I didn’t mean it like that. Of course, you wouldn’t be lacking in grace. I just mean that Lù Chéng has held a grudge against me over this, and you can’t only believe Lù Chéng’s one-sided words.”
“Do you expect me to believe only your one-sided words?”
Sister Cen was left speechless.
Zhōu Shíyì glanced at his watch—the press conference wasn’t over yet. Then he looked up at her again: “This afternoon, we’ll go through the contract termination process.
Let’s part on good terms; I won’t pursue compensation for Lù Chéng’s losses.”
Sister Cen suddenly found it laughable. What losses did Lù Chéng have? Shouldn’t he be paying the company a penalty for breaching the contract?
Zhōu Shíyì said, “Don’t argue about what should or shouldn’t be.”
He reiterated the timing:
“The process will be done this afternoon. Don’t drag it out until nightfall. The lawyers will be at your company at two o’clock sharp. After termination, announce it in June to avoid affecting Lù Chéng’s concert at the end of the month.”
“As for you,” Zhōu Shíyì finished his coffee and put down the cup, “if you want to continue working in this industry, any future scandals involving Zhōng Yì, my mother-in-law, or even Lù Chéng—you pay all the PR costs. If you don’t want to stay in this line of work, consider your wish granted.”
“Director Zhou, you’re being too unreasonable! As long as Zhōng Zhuóhuá and Lù Chéng are in this circle, no one can guarantee they won’t have any negative public opinion!”
“So you pay the PR fees.”
Sister Cen felt like her throat had been strangled; the suffocating anger in her chest refused to dissipate.
“Director Zhou, I’m not the only one who knows about Zhōng Yì and Lù Chéng’s relationship. Should I also be blamed for any leaks from others?”
“Don’t play dumb in front of me.”
Zhōu Shíyì didn’t waste any more words.
He always had PR contingencies prepared; normally, leaks caused no real harm, but she was different.
The media resources she controlled and the number of major marketing accounts she held were beyond ordinary comprehension.
Sister Cen sneered bitterly: “Director Zhou, this is piling on.”
Zhōu Shíyì said, “I didn’t want to stoop to your level. It’s not easy to hold a foothold in such a circle—you have your survival methods. But you shouldn’t be ungrateful, nor should you expose Lù Chéng and Zhōng Yì’s past.”
As he spoke, he took out his phone from his suit pocket and dialed Zhan Liang’s number.
Zhan Liang was nearby in the VIP room, negotiating with Du.
When Du heard the boss was talking with Lù Chéng’s manager, he wanted to join in and said, “Let me in on this.”
“Du, please wait a moment.”
“What, is there something I’m not allowed to hear?”
“…I don’t really know what Director Zhou is discussing.”
“I get it.”
Du said, “If it’s not about offline events, it’s about the concert on the 27th. They wouldn’t be trying to give Lù Chéng a car! Even if they did, they’d have to get my approval first!”
Zhan Liang had nothing to say.
Luckily, the boss’s call came through then.
“Alright, Director Zhou, I’m on my way.”
Zhan Liang pushed open the VIP room door and saw Sister Cen’s face pale, her jaw clenched tight.
“Director Zhou, what are your orders?”
Zhōu Shíyì said, “Notify Jì Fánxīng to attend this afternoon’s contract termination and handle the handover. Especially for business matters, make sure it doesn’t affect Kuncheng Motors’ advertising endorsements.”
“Got it, I’ll contact her right away.”
Zhōu Shíyì stood and left the VIP room.
Sister Cen stared in disbelief at the figure heading toward the door—he had even arranged Lù Chéng’s next company?
Kuncheng Motors’ new car launch stirred a sensation in the industry, its price directly targeting Ruichi’s high-end models.
Before this, Ruichi had dominated the high-end new energy vehicle market.
***
Half an hour earlier, Ruichi announced a price cut of 15%-20% across their entire high-end series.
Choosing May 22nd to announce the cut was an unmistakable declaration of war.
Before Kuncheng’s launch even ended, Ruichi had already started the price battle.
The price cut was expected by Du, but the magnitude took him by surprise.
Moreover, customers who had already ordered or picked up cars this quarter could enjoy the same discount.
This brand PR strategy instantly overshadowed Kuncheng’s launch.
At the meeting, Du unusually remained silent, only occasionally glancing at Zhōu Shíyì.
Zhōu Shíyì naturally understood Du’s looks because Ruichi’s heir apparent was none other than Zhang Nuoxu’s fiancé—his former arranged marriage partner.
Zhang Nuoxu and Tang Nuoyun’s names were stylistically similar, both playing with the characters for “promise” and “allow.”
She had once told him that initially, because of her name, her mentor had chatted with her more, and over time, they became close to the mentor’s family.
Before Zhōu Shíyì took over Kuncheng, Zhang Nuoxu already knew Shen Chi, Ruichi’s successor and current president. Even if Zhōu Shíyì hadn’t taken over Kuncheng, the two companies would still compete.
There was no affection between Shen Chi and Zhang Nuoxu; it was a pragmatic arranged marriage.
So there was no deep love or hatred involved.
It was purely business competition.
“Du, you’re worrying too much. Say what needs to be said.”
Du didn’t know Zhang Nuoxu well; last year, he only heard Chairman Zhou mention once or twice that the troublesome nephew finally had someone he favored.
He thought he’d be attending a wedding but it never happened.
Later, he heard that Zhang Nuoxu and Shen Chi got engaged. At that time, he didn’t know about Zhōng Yì and even felt sorry for Zhōu Shíyì.
Until two months ago, when Zhōu Shíyì took over Kuncheng Motors, he realized the inevitable clash was coming.
And here it was today.
Du said, “We just launched the new car today, can’t just follow Ruichi’s price cut immediately.”
But if they didn’t cut prices, they’d lose the chance to seize the market.
Du analyzed, “Our new car has technological breakthroughs; Ruichi probably has to upgrade their model or else they wouldn’t dare cut prices this much.”
“Shen Chi is using an upcoming upgraded model to slam the market, giving Kuncheng’s new car no breathing room.”
The marketing director looked at Zhōu Shíyì, waiting for his decision.
Zhōu Shíyì asked, “Du, anything else to say?”
“…” Du was taken aback to be given the floor first.
Even with the price cut, it needed to be carefully considered.
He said, “Nothing else for now. I’ll think it over thoroughly. If we cut prices, we need to control the range appropriately.” It concerned company strategy; no rash decisions.
Zhōu Shíyì responded, “No need to think further. High-end models won’t join the price war. Starting next month, prices will rise 5%.”
Everyone:
Competitors cut prices, they raise them.
Ignoring the surprised looks, Zhōu Shíyì continued, “New models have no market share yet. Even halving the price won’t beat Ruichi. Price cuts are unnecessary.”
Then he shifted focus.
“Notify everyone: from today, prices for mid- and low-end models will drop 10%-20% across the board. Implement zero down payment and interest-free loans throughout all regions—no survival space for Ruichi’s mid- and low-end cars.”
Du said, “But then we…”
Before he finished, Zhōu Shíyì cut in, “I’ve calculated it; selling volume will greatly reduce costs, so profit margins won’t be squeezed too much. As for Kuncheng’s cash flow, it won’t be affected.”
He nodded toward Zhan Liang, signaling to project the data.
The screen filled with dense calculations and formulas, which Du couldn’t make heads or tails of.
He had no argument.
Zhōu Shíyì said, “Meeting adjourned.”
No one moved except him; he alone left the conference room.
Du thought:
This scene felt eerily familiar.
When Kuncheng Motors was still under Zhōu Sujin, after the decision to develop their own batteries was announced, regardless of others’ opinions, Zhōu Sujin ended the meeting with: “Meeting adjourned.”
Just like today.
No wonder Zhōu Yunlian initially refused to take over the group—he simply couldn’t control them.
Sending him to supervise Zhōu Shíyì was merely for show.
His management philosophy was stability.
Zhōu Shíyì’s was ruthlessness.
He had hoped to retire peacefully; it seemed impossible now.
The marketing director looked at him: “Du?”
Du sipped his tea, then after some thought said, “Execute as Director Zhou said. Also release news of the price increase on new models next month.”
“Understood.”
In the conference room, the others continued to discuss the extent of price adjustments for various models.
The exact discounts or increases would be decided by Du; Zhōu Shíyì only controlled the strategic direction.
Zhōu Shíyì returned to his office. The person on the sofa was looking down at her phone; the Red Bean Latte on the coffee table hadn’t been touched.
This would have been unthinkable before.
Hearing footsteps, Zhōng Yì looked up.
After the press conference, he had brought her to the company.
“Reading news about Ruichi?”
Zhōu Shíyì bent down and picked up the coffee, handing it to her, “Drink it before it gets cold.”
Zhōng Yì put down her phone. “Shen Chi is willing to take a huge loss just to leave no chance for Kuncheng’s high-end cars.”
She accepted the coffee. “Are you planning to raise prices?”
Zhōu Shíyì looked at her. “You guessed?”
“Not guessed. It’s a feeling. Sometimes I can sense what you’re thinking.” She popped a spoonful of honeyed red beans into her mouth.
Zhōu Shíyì sat beside her, elbow on the sofa armrest, propping his chin as he watched her.
Zhōng Yì said, “I know Shen Chi.”
“Hmm.”
“I heard he got engaged earlier this year, arranged by the family.”
Zhōng Yì looked at him. “Why are you quiet?”
“His fiancée is my former arranged marriage partner.”
That was indeed awkward to discuss further.
Zhōng Yì scooped a spoonful of honeyed red beans and offered it to him. “It’s very sweet; try some.”
Zhōu Shíyì wasn’t fond of sweets, but he took a bite from her hand.
Zhōng Yì had booked a restaurant today to celebrate the successful launch for him, but near the end, they were blindsided by a competitor.
Kuncheng had a contingency plan, but no one expected Shen Chi to announce the price cut alongside giving discounts to all quarterly preorders, regardless of delivery.
This was unprecedented in the automotive industry.
Zhōu Shíyì hadn’t told her yet: “Lù Chéng terminated his contract. I arranged for him to join Jì Fánxīng’s company. The lawyers will handle everything properly.”
Zhōng Yì paused in her honeyed red bean scooping, taking dozens of seconds to piece things together.
“There were some personal reasons for helping him, but they’re negligible. It’s mostly business considerations.”
“Jì Fánxīng must be thrilled.” Zhōng Yì didn’t say more.
Zhōu Shíyì reached out: “Give me the car keys.”
Without thinking, Zhōng Yì fished them out of her canvas bag, assuming he wanted the driver to return the Yueche.
Zhōu Shíyì stood and handed them back: “We’re going home. Drink the coffee on the way.”
Zhōng Yì hesitated a moment. “What about Ruichi? Aren’t you staying at the company?”
“Handled.”
“…The meeting lasted less than twenty minutes and it’s all settled?”
“Mm.”
His hand remained extended in front of her.
Zhōng Yì finally took it.
Inside the elevator, she didn’t let go.
“Kuncheng’s high-end cars will struggle to seize the market in the short term.” Survival itself was a problem.
Zhōu Shíyì said, “No rush. Price wars waste time; I have time to go toe-to-toe with Shen Chi.”
Ruichi was under unprecedented profit pressure, and its high-end models faced upgrades.
Kuncheng working with Zhōng Yì’s team also put huge technical pressure on Shen Chi.
In multi-modal algorithms, no one in the industry could match Zhōng Yì and her team.
On the way home, Zhōng Yì received a call from Jì Fánxīng. The excited voice on the other end nearly burst her eardrums.
“Lù Chéng came to my company!”
“From now on, I have to look the part, haha!”
“No, no, I have to be a steadier director, haha!”
Zhōng Yì smiled, happy for her.
“Xǐ Yì baby, let me kowtow to you. Ever since I met you, everything’s been going smoothly.” Not just her—Lù Chéng felt the same.
Zhōu Shíyì told her that Lù Chéng was Zhōng Yì’s first love, but that was in the past.
Since it was past, she didn’t bring it up.
After all, her feelings for Lù Chéng were only admiring fondness.
Jì Fánxīng said, “I’m one step closer to my dream.”
Dreams seem simple yet remain far away—to make a film with Lù Chéng and succeed together.
Zhōng Yì said, “Then I wish you both success at the peak of your careers.”
“Definitely borrowing your good wishes!”
After ending the call, Zhōng Yì tilted her head to Zhōu Shíyì and started talking about the development of the Zhijia Large Model; the chip team still hadn’t found the right person.
“Aren’t you going to invite Yán Tínglín yourself?”
Zhōu Shíyì said, “I can’t even lift him.”
Zhōng Yì took a sip of coffee. “Then I’ll go invite him.”
Zhōu Shíyì wanted to be honest but held back from discouraging her.
If she wanted to go, let it be a trip—a journey.