Zhōng Yì was actually Zhou Shíyì’s arranged marriage partner? Du was stunned.
He only knew that Zhou Shíyì had registered the marriage as his family required, and the wedding was set three days before the Kuncheng Motors launch event.
As for who the marriage was arranged with, he had once indirectly asked Zhan Liang, who only said “the Jiang Family.”
Whenever Zhan Liang was vague, it meant it wasn’t convenient to explain in detail. Knowing this, Du hadn’t pressed further.
He wasn’t part of Zhou Shíyì’s circle, and besides, the circles of the powerful weren’t limited to just one family named Jiang.
It was impossible to guess which Jiang family it was, and since Zhōng Yì didn’t even carry that surname, no one could have expected this connection.
It made sense.
Du took half a minute to sort through the thoughts in his head. No wonder Zhou Shíyì had used his eyes during the meeting to stop him.
Not only forbidding him from objecting, Zhou Shíyì himself had remained silent in the meeting.
Never expected Zhōng Yì was Zhou Shíyì’s wife—everything just got complicated.
If the proposal came from his wife, should it be accepted or rejected?
Zhou Shíyì spoke: “Everyone, please take Jinghe’s opinions seriously and think it over. Next week, we’ll have another discussion meeting. That’s all for today. Dismissed.”
Du didn’t move immediately. After everyone else left, he had something to say to his boss.
Zhou Shíyì picked up a bottle of water and twisted it open. When only the two of them remained in the conference room and the door closed, he signaled to Du that he could speak.
Du said, “I was wrong before. I shouldn’t have gone down the conspiracy theory route. My fault.”
He admitted it when necessary.
After apologizing, he went straight to the point.
Even though Zhōng Yì was the lady boss of Kuncheng Motors and everything was supposedly for Kuncheng’s sake, there were some things he had to say.
Du got straight to the point: “If you decide to adopt Zhōng Yì’s proposal, and the new Intelligent Driving Model doesn’t perform well, President Zhou, have you thought about what you’ll be facing?”
He reminded his boss, “This isn’t like putting up splash ads on the entire platform—you can’t just do whatever you want here.”
Zhou Shíyì slightly tilted his head back, calmly sipping his soda.
Du continued, “Putting aside whether End-to-End is feasible, let’s take a step back. Even if End-to-End becomes the mainstream solution ten years from now, are the current conditions even suitable for us to implement it now?”
He laid out the realities to calm his boss down:
“The tech team only approaches things from a technical perspective—have they thought about mass production? Cost control? How much profit margin will be squeezed? The company’s cash flow?”
After these pointed questions, he sipped his tea and took a moment to steady his emotions.
“I know we need to seize the lead to secure the top spot. But everything needs to be done step by step.” Seeing Zhou Shíyì still silent, Du grew uneasy.
“President Zhou, you don’t actually want to cooperate with Jinghe to develop chips, do you?”
Zhou Shíyì twisted off the bottle cap, looked at him, and finally said, “You said you’d help me for a few years to make a clean comeback, right? Now the opportunity is here.”
That hit the mark.
“That’s not an opportunity! It’s a death trap!” Du waved his hand. “President Zhou, if you want to jump, jump yourself. Don’t drag me into it!”
Zhou Shíyì seemed crazy, but he wasn’t.
Chip development costs hundreds of millions, even billions, and nothing guarantees results.
Whether restructuring the large model or cooperating to develop chips, it all required long-term planning.
Zhou Shíyì stood up: “Whether you help or not doesn’t matter. Just don’t vote against it at the board meeting.”
Leaving the conference room, Zhou Shíyì didn’t return to his office but went straight to the chairman’s floor.
Chairman Zhou was working out in the gym. His body was nowhere near as strong as before—without exercise, he couldn’t keep up.
Since handing over power to the younger generation, his daily work hours never exceeded six; he wouldn’t do a minute more.
The gym door was open. Zhou Shíyì knocked twice and walked in.
Chairman Zhou glanced at him but didn’t acknowledge him.
Zhou Shíyì looked at his uncle, who was stretching his back: “Your form’s off—wasted effort.”
Chairman Zhou, who had wanted to finish his workout in one go, suddenly lost strength from irritation.
After catching his breath, he eyed the visitor: “You busy people don’t come here for nothing. Speak—what do you want this time?”
He then warned coldly, “Zhou Shíyì, you better not say you’re quitting!”
“On the contrary, I might stay long-term.” Zhou Shíyì sat on the dumbbell bench.
Chairman Zhou sized up his most disobedient nephew, knowing his character well enough to expect no sudden kindness: “Speak, what conditions?”
Zhou Shíyì briefly recounted the afternoon meeting, stating only facts without any personal opinions.
Chairman Zhou got up from the equipment and wiped the sweat off his brow.
He had expected his nephew to come with demands but hadn’t expected a plea for help.
It wasn’t often Zhou Shíyì needed to ask for help.
Chairman Zhou took the opportunity to assert control: “If you want to do your own thing, it depends on your ability. Asking me won’t help.”
Zhou Shíyì said, “It helps—I need your vote.”
Finally gaining the upper hand, Chairman Zhou wasn’t about to miss the chance to leverage it: “That vote’s not impossible to get. Bring your father back to take over from me. Just five years.”
He never imagined that succession would become the greatest problem.
Currently, the eldest nephew was being groomed to take over. Five years would be enough for him to fully take the helm.
Kuncheng’s business empire was too vast, and the eldest nephew’s experience wasn’t sufficient yet.
***
Originally, he favored the second nephew, Zhou Sujin, who had been meticulously trained as the heir apparent.
But unexpectedly, Zhou Sujin had shifted focus to his wife and children in Jiangcheng, now only willing to manage Kuncheng’s semiconductor division.
With the second nephew unwilling to take over, the chairman had to pin his hopes again on the eldest nephew.
The eldest nephew had initially resisted.
Unlike the founder himself, these younger generations had no sentimental attachment to the group or the power it held.
They were more self-centered and unwilling to sacrifice their personal lives for the company.
Perhaps growing up in privilege, they seemed indifferent to power.
He could only repeatedly advise the eldest nephew: “If you don’t take over, won’t Kuncheng fall to outsiders?”
Eldest nephew: “Then why not ask Zhou Shíyì?”
Chairman sighed: “Zhou Shíyì is a piece of work—you know that.”
Zhou Shíyì was the youngest among the younger generation and also the biggest troublemaker.
When he came to help at the company, it was like owing him a favor; they had to beg him.
In recent years, Zhou Shíyì had thrived in his fields of interest and lived abroad long enough to be untethered by authority. Getting him back into the group was harder than climbing to heaven.
When the chairman first urged Zhou Shíyì to take over Kuncheng Motors, he spoke sweet words, but Zhou Shíyì flatly refused and dismissed him.
The nephews were disobedient; his own son was even worse—he barely ever saw him.
Thinking of this, Chairman Zhou was infuriated.
After calming down, he asked, “What’s your father been busy with lately?”
Zhou Shíyì said, “I’m not sure, probably involved with races.”
“Ha, he sure knows how to enjoy life!”
His third brother was always irresponsible, invested with friends in a racing team. How could an F1 Grand Prix happen without him?
“Look at the friends your father keeps—all scoundrels! Only care about themselves, no responsibility to family or company!”
Zhou Shíyì replied, “You scolding me doesn’t help. Next time, scold him to his face.”
Chairman Zhou had scolded the third brother many times, telling him to set an example for the younger generation, but the third brother ignored it.
Seeing their third uncle living carefree, the younger ones were even less motivated to return to the company under such pressure.
So they retorted that he should manage his third uncle before managing them.
When the leader is crooked, the followers go astray.
Chairman Zhou returned to the main point:
“If you want to proceed with Zhōng Yì’s proposal—to rebuild the model, to develop chips—that’s fine. But only on one condition: your father must come back to take over from me. Otherwise, no deal!”
He was tired and wanted to enjoy some peace and quiet.
It wasn’t that Zhou Shíyì was unwilling to call his father back, it was that he simply couldn’t.
Like him, he never respected his father or listened to any of his arrangements.
Chairman Zhou gestured toward the door, signaling his nephew to leave so he wouldn’t disrupt his workout.
Back in his office, Zhou Shíyì saw a velvet box placed on his desk by the driver.
He opened it and carefully recalled the diamond ring Zhōng Yì had chosen at the store. It had design elements similar to his own men’s ring, so it should be from the same series.
He put the ring away and sent a message to his father: [When are you coming back?]
Such a huge matter of succession couldn’t be settled over the phone.
Because of time differences, his father didn’t reply.
He messaged again: [Come back as soon as possible. The families need to meet before the wedding.]
Putting down his phone, he resumed work.
Only a few weeks into taking over Kuncheng Motors, he already felt the enormous pressure his uncle once bore.
When he looked up from the documents, night had fallen—it was already half past seven.
Zhou Shíyì closed his laptop, grabbed his suit, and left the office.
In the private elevator, he ran into Du, who was also leaving work.
Du held an opened pack of soda crackers and offered one: “Want a piece?”
Zhou Shíyì wasn’t used to snacking: “Thanks, no.”
Du sighed, “I envy you young people. My stomach’s weak—if I eat dinner even a little late, it starts hurting.
So I always keep these stomach-soothing snacks in the office.”
Changing topic, he asked, “Did you go see Chairman Zhou?”
Zhou Shíyì nodded.
Seeing his expression, Du guessed the meeting hadn’t gone well and didn’t press further. Instead, he mentioned Zhōng Yì’s attitude toward him during the meeting.
“Zhōng General seemed to imply I don’t understand the tech.”
Zhou Shíyì: “No implication. She just flat-out said you don’t understand the tech.”
In the quiet elevator, only the sound of “crack—crack—” as they chewed the crackers filled the space.
The Maybach was already waiting at the elevator exit.
Once inside the car, Zhou Shíyì leaned back and closed his eyes to rest.
The driver glanced at him through the rearview mirror and asked, “President Zhou, heading straight home?”
Zhou Shíyì hadn’t eaten dinner yet and hadn’t told the housekeeper to prepare anything.
After a moment’s thought, he gave the name of a Western restaurant.
The driver remembered—the place they had gone to for lunch on the day they registered the marriage.
It was rush hour, a forty-minute drive from Kuncheng.
***
Inside Jinghe Campus, several office buildings were brightly lit.
Níng Quē had just finished dinner and was passing by Zhōng Yì’s office. The door was half-open, the light still on inside.
He knocked twice, gently pushed the door: “Not leaving yet?”
Zhōng Yì stood with her arms crossed, focused on the computer screen. Hearing him, she looked up: “Leaving now.” She casually asked, “What about you? Still working overtime?”
Since moving to the campus, Níng Quē often stayed at the company. There was a small rest area in his office that had become his second home.
Unlike Zhōng Yì, who was married, he was alone. He had long forgotten when he last went home.
“I live here—it saves on gas.”
Zhōng Yì shut down her computer. “If Kuncheng accepts my proposal, you’ll have to get involved. The project can’t do without you.”
Níng Quē had a feeling that the days when he could hold his head high in front of her were coming.
Just as Zhōng Yì arrived at the elevator, she received a call from Jiang Jingyuan asking when she would be home.
“Didn’t you tell me and Mom to eat first? Don’t wait for me.”
Jiang Jingyuan: “Your mom wants to wait.”
“You guys eat. I want to go out for dinner tonight.”
“Tired?”
“Yeah.”
When she was especially exhausted, she liked to go to her favorite restaurants and quietly eat.
Eating alone meant no talking was necessary and no one else’s chatter to listen to.
Her father knew her best and understood she wanted to eat out because she was too tired.
Jiang Jingyuan didn’t say more: “Come back early after eating.”
She hung up.
Zhōng Yì stepped out of the office building.
She fumbled in her canvas bag for the car keys, recalling which street the Western restaurant was on.
But being unfamiliar with the northern part of the city, she couldn’t remember the exact location despite recalling the name—it had sounded especially nice when she first saw it.
Starting the engine, she turned on the navigation and entered the restaurant name. Two results appeared.
Zhōng Yì searched online to compare storefront photos and surroundings. The one she had been to was by the roadside, with locust trees in front, so it was easy to identify which branch it was.
About a fifty-minute drive from the campus.
She drank half a can of iced coffee to stay alert and drove off.
After presenting her proposal at the meeting, she knew how much pressure Zhou Shíyì was under—and she herself felt even more burdened.
Coupled with the energy spent restoring photos the previous night and analyzing Kuncheng’s training data that morning, she was more exhausted than ever before.
Before, Zhou Shíyì had asked why she always went to restaurants alone.
She had said it was because she was too tired.
Maybe she had just gotten used to having no one to accompany her.
***
At 8:35 p.m., Zhōng Yì arrived at the restaurant, where guests kept coming and going.
She had reserved a table in advance, and the waiter led her there.
Glancing at a seat by the window, she froze for a moment. A man in a white shirt with his sleeves rolled up twice was focused on cutting fish.
Zhōng Yì told the waiter, “I see someone I know. Share the table with him.”
“Okay.”
Zhōng Yì turned and walked toward the window seat. He was cutting fish absentmindedly, paying no attention to who passed by.
She sat opposite him and casually placed her canvas bag aside.
Zhou Shíyì suddenly looked up, slightly surprised but not shocked.
He handed her a set of cutlery: “Start eating first. Order more if you want.”
Zhou Shíyì said, “One portion is enough. When I ordered, I thought you might come.”
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