The red exclamation mark before the message stood out starkly.
Even knowing she deleted him, he never removed her.
Reading it made his chest tighten.
Zhōu Shíyì pointed to the sofa by the window grid: “Go sit there; you’re distracting me from work.”
Zhōng Yì squeezed him tightly before getting up and sitting on the sofa, rereading the unsent message several times.
To ask that question meant he was already bowing his head.
Unfortunately, she deleted him back then.
Maybe they were destined to be apart for so long, to endure that kind of heart-wrenching longing.
Just as she was staring at the message, a voice call from Du came through.
“Du is calling,” she said, handing him the phone.
Zhōu Shíyì answered: “I’ve approved all the decisions in the system.”
Du wasn’t calling about that: “The latest data shows Ruichi’s high-end car orders are booked through May next year.
But Kuncheng’s major dealerships have poor new car reservation rates.”
“Ruichi even had the media take photos comparing foot traffic at both brands’ stores,” he said, embarrassed. “It makes us look dismal.”
Shěn Chí was taking the opportunity to put Kuncheng down.
Zhōu Shíyì: “Shěn Chí’s always been good at marketing. We should learn from him. If he likes the spotlight, let’s give him a trending hashtag: #ShenChiFailsAndLosesHalfTheCountry#.”
What Shěn Chí miscalculated was that Zhōu Shíyì hadn’t followed Ruichi in cutting prices. Instead, he raised prices on high-end models by 5%.
Even more surprisingly, Zhōu Shíyì slashed mid- and low-end models to rock-bottom prices all at once, offering dealers subsidies on some inventory.
This price cut didn’t dampen dealer enthusiasm at all.
Zhōu Shíyì pitted Kuncheng’s strongest mid- and low-end models against Ruichi’s high-end line, making the battle far less predictable.
In the automotive industry’s business war, public opinion was a crucial battlefield.
***
By evening, #ShenChiFailsAndLosesHalfTheCountry# hit the trending charts.
Shěn Chí himself was at the Michelin restaurant, having just been seated.
The person opposite him saw the news alert and looked up: “For a first confrontation, Zhōu Shíyì’s gone easy on you.”
“Otherwise, the hashtag would be #ShenChiFailsAndLosesHalfTheCountry—Sent by Zhōu Shíyì#.”
Shěn Chí leisurely studied his fiancée.
Zhāng Nuòxǔ smirked faintly: “You know him that well?”
“More than you,” he replied.
Before the wine arrived, Shěn Chí clinked glasses with her: “Too bad we never got to toast with you at your wedding.”
In outmaneuvering others, Shěn Chí was second to none.
Zhāng Nuòxǔ ignored his sarcasm. She wasn’t interested in marriage anyway.
She’d dated before—breakups were painful and troublesome, affecting her income.
With her, men were stepping stones; relationships were burdens.
Only with Zhōu Shíyì had she once considered marriage seriously. A rare man who was perfect in every way and, importantly, smarter than her.
Status, family background, intelligence, ability—who wouldn’t like such a man? She admired strength.
But fate hadn’t favored her.
Shěn Chí drank water slowly and glanced sideways, his gaze pausing on someone.
He stared for almost two minutes before looking away.
Zhāng Nuòxǔ timed him, curious which lover could hold his gaze that long.
She turned around casually, first catching Zhōu Shíyì’s back. Opposite him was Zhōng Yì.
It had been over a year since Zhōu Shíyì ended their arranged relationship. His words “We broke up, but I still like her” were etched in her memory.
Zhāng Nuòxǔ turned back and studied her fiancé thoughtfully: “Still so unwilling to let go, were you ever rejected by Zhōng Yì?”
Shěn Chí finally looked away but answered evasively: “What’s so good about Zhōu Shíyì? You’re all just crazy.”
His words were bitter.
Zhāng Nuòxǔ smiled: “Looks like she really did reject you.”
Shěn Chí confessed bluntly: “She did. She refused to cooperate with me.”
He had approached Jinghe first, wanting to collaborate on the Zhijia Large Model project, but she flat-out rejected him.
It was the first time he’d been refused face-to-face, professionally or personally.
For a long time, he couldn’t understand why she wouldn’t cooperate, even though it was mutually beneficial.
Only after she married Zhōu Shíyì did he realize.
Because if she cooperated with him, Ruichi’s mid- and low-end models would gain a clear advantage, directly threatening Kuncheng’s dominance in that market.
Even after breaking up with Zhōu Shíyì, she still wouldn’t stand against his family’s business.
He glanced toward Zhōng Yì: “If I confessed to her, and she rejected me that decisively, fine.”
Zhāng Nuòxǔ understood Shěn Chí. Being rejected romantically, he didn’t care much.
But being rejected in business? He’d hold onto that forever.
“Stop holding onto it. Zhōng Yì will never cooperate with you. Even if she didn’t like Zhōu Shíyì, she’d still choose to work with him over you,” she said softly. “Don’t you like working with smart people?”
Shěn Chí looked at his fiancée: “Don’t you have to step on my intelligence a little less?”
Zhāng Nuòxǔ: “Your IQ is lower than my shoe sole. I step on it just walking normally. What can I do?”
Shěn Chí sneered in anger: “There’s a reason Zhōu Shíyì doesn’t fancy you.”
Zhāng Nuòxǔ didn’t care what he said, maintaining a polite smile, knowing he was rattled.
Shěn Chí looked at Zhōng Yì again. She stood up, hands on the table, leaning over it as Zhōu Shíyì helped her remove the silk scarf around her neck.
Hard to imagine this woman could still act coy.
The first time Zhōng Yì rejected him, he was unwilling to give up or lose any chance of cooperation. The following month, he went to Jinghe again, fully sincere.
In his thirty years, it was the only time he’d broken his usual practice.
But it was useless. Zhōng Yì said plainly: “Thank you for your kindness, but I’m not interested.”
He really was quite persistent.
Time and again, he humiliated himself to seek cooperation.
After the second rejection, he went straight to Mín Tíng.
Mín Tíng said, “It’s not that I don’t want to cooperate, I can’t control her.”
Back then, it sounded like a polite refusal, but now he realized Mín Tíng really couldn’t control her.
Zhōng Yì finally removed the scarf, and Shěn Chí withdrew his gaze.
The lighting was dim. Zhōng Yì wasn’t one to look around and hadn’t noticed Shěn Chí was at the same restaurant.
She folded the scarf neatly and placed it on the sofa nearby.
Zhōu Shíyì, calculating time zones, called Yán Tínglín.
On the other end, Yán Tínglín had just gotten up, not yet eaten breakfast.
Zhōu Shíyì got straight to the point: “Zhōng Yì lands in the Bay Area tomorrow at noon. If you’re free, help pick her up.”
“Zhōng Yì’s coming? You’re not?”
“I can’t get away.”
“Okay, no problem.”
Yán Tínglín asked, “What’s she coming for? Business trip?”
Zhōu Shíyì wanted to prepare him mentally: “She wants to collaborate with you. You’ll discuss specifics when you meet.”
There was at least half a minute of silence on the line.
Finally, Yán Tínglín said: “If she flew all this way just to talk about cooperation, tell Zhōng Yì not to come.”
Zhōu Shíyì had expected that answer.
Zhōng Yì heard the blunt refusal—it was exactly what she expected.
But she still decided to make the trip, not just to recruit him, but to discuss semiconductor development.
Zhōu Shíyì worried she’d feel disappointed and held her hand.
Then Yán Tínglín’s voice came through again: “I’m actually planning to return to China at the end of the month, to wrap up some matters, then go back.”
This surprised Zhōu Shíyì: “You’ll come back and talk cooperation with her?”
“Yeah. It’d be more formal for her to come over, but I’ll go to Beicheng to meet her.”
Whether the cooperation succeeds was another matter.
Yán Tínglín sipped his coffee and continued, “She doesn’t give me her WeChat, but now that she needs me, as a man, I have to be magnanimous.”
“Unlike you, who always waits for the other side to make the first move.”