This meeting discussed how to expand advertising business in western China. Initially, I was fully focused on taking notes on the computer, but after three minutes I realized it was pointless—everyone's attitude was clear: the expansion department had two managers, one named A-Ce, and the other a "returned overseas student" named TK. These two formed two opposing forces within the department, and they were evenly matched. TK argued that statistics showed coastal areas accounted for 72.12% of the national advertising revenue, the top ten provinces and municipalities accounted for 81.4%, Beijing, Shanghai, and Guangdong accounted for 50.67%, and the ten western provinces, autonomous regions, and municipalities accounted for 8.43%, a slight increase from last year's 7.93%. The advertising situation in western China still lagged far behind that of coastal areas; in short, there was little profit to be made. Furthermore, penetrating the inland market would require extensive networking, and public relations expenses would be a major burden—the investment was too long, the return uncertain, and the risk too high. The side led by A-Ce believes that the huge consumer market in the west is a guarantee of future profits. Moreover, it is precisely because of its imperfections that entering the market at this stage can be done with less investment. By relying on Dongzheng's industry advantages in Beijing, Guangzhou and Shanghai, they can seize the western market in one fell swoop, not only getting the first taste of success but also ensuring Dongzheng's leading position in the advertising industry.
I could tell that A-Ce genuinely believed the western market had great potential, while TK was using it as an excuse to undermine A-Ce and deliberately contradict him. I glanced at "Plague God," who remained calm and composed, resting his chin on his hand, seemingly unmoved by the increasingly heated debate. But then he suddenly said to me, "Give me the national real estate sales statistics for the past three years."
I hesitated for a moment before saying "Yes." I was really confused about his intentions. I worked on the computer for two minutes, finally managing to retrieve the data before he checked his watch for the third time, and then sent it to the server in front of everyone. Only then did I breathe a sigh of relief.
"What do you see in this document?" He scanned the crowd.
"The vacancy rate of commercial housing this year has increased by 10 percentage points compared to last year."
"The real estate sector is shifting to the suburbs."
"The real estate development trend has begun to soften."
"..." Everyone rushed to speak, but none of them understood why the "plague god" would ask such a question at this time.
"The proportion of low- and mid-priced housing is starting to increase, while the development of high-end housing is slowing down," A-Ce added after thinking for a moment.
I suddenly understood what "plague god" meant, and couldn't help but smile slightly as I looked at "plague god." To my surprise, I met "plague god's" eyes, and he actually said to me, "RUBY, you tell us your story too."
"Me?" I was a little taken aback. I thought to myself, wasn't I only responsible for preparing the materials? Everyone in the world was looking at me, but their eyes were full of disdain. Even A-Ce's eyes were full of suspicion.
I was a little uneasy by the scathing silence in the meeting room. I thought, "Whatever, I'll just say it. I won't get docked pay if I'm wrong anyway." I continued, "Entering the western market sooner rather than later is crucial. The key is the entry point. The ratio of the number of households nationwide to the total number of newly built commercial housing units over the past three years is 357:1. It's lower in coastal areas at 96:1, but in the ten western provinces and cities it's 521:1. Demand determines the market, meaning the real estate market will be a major direction for economic development in the west. History has shown that projects heavily supported by the government have returns of almost 200%. The central government's proposal to develop the west will inevitably attract a large influx of foreign investment. The proportion of foreign-invested enterprises in the capital structure of western real estate developers is growing at an average annual rate of 270%. The real estate industry, with its short return period and low risk, will be the main sector everyone is vying for. We might as well use advertising in the real estate industry, which is closely intertwined with the advertising industry, as our entry point into the western advertising industry, as our first step in expanding into the inland market."
I finished speaking in one breath, and the conference room remained quiet. I secretly glanced at "the plague god," who showed no emotion whatsoever. With a cool face, I said to A-Ce, "Submit me a feasibility report on expanding our business in the west within three days. Meeting adjourned. Rubby, come to my office."
As I packed up my laptop and headed out, A-Ce came over, gave me a thumbs-up, and said, "CLEVER GIRL, I wasn't wrong about you. Interested in joining the business development department?"
"No thanks, I'd definitely be better than you if I came. As the head of the business development department, how would you feel then?" I didn't know how to be polite; I just knew how to take advantage of the situation.
"Then I'll be your assistant," A-Ce said confidently, patting his chest. The two then looked at each other and laughed.
I knocked on the "plague god's" office door and went inside.
The "plague god" was on the phone with me. When he saw me come in, he gestured to a chair for me to sit down, and then spoke into the computer camera in a gentle tone I had never heard before. To my surprise, he was speaking Korean: "Okay, I have something to do. Remember not to call me at this time next time. I'll call you if I need anything. Bye."
Oh, I don't remember introducing myself. In college, I majored in Business Administration and minored in two foreign languages: French and Korean. I chose French because my English was terrible throughout high school, causing me a lot of stress. I barely managed to avoid dragging down my college entrance exam score by rote memorization. So, in college, I decided to switch to French. Who knew that I would fall in love with its elegant tone and end up getting the highest score in French in my entire grade, earning a scholarship for two years? As for Korean, it was because of an international trade class where the bald, short professor confidently predicted that South Korea would launch a large-scale asset invasion of China within five years. This sparked my interest in the Korean Won, so… let me make it clear, I didn't eavesdrop on that. Why didn't he ask if I understood Korean?
The "plague god" took off his headphones and said to me, "I'm fairly satisfied with your performance over the past week, so your probation period ends today. From now on, you will officially be my assistant. You'll be coming with me to a meeting in Shanghai later, which will last about five days. I'll give you two hours to pack your things and prepare your documents. Any questions?" He remained expressionless.
What else can I say besides "yes"?
This was my first time flying business class, but I didn't have time to appreciate it. I had already fallen asleep while the beautiful flight attendant was still gently explaining how to use the life vest. Two hours of sleep on the office sofa couldn't help my overworked brain cells at all. When I woke up, the plane had probably encountered turbulence; it was quite bumpy, no wonder my ears felt so uncomfortable. I took the opportunity of yawning to clear the air from my ears. Straightening my neck, I realized that I had been obliviously sleeping on the shoulder of this "plague god." He also seemed to be asleep with his eyes closed, thankfully, he hadn't noticed. I quietly moved my head off his shoulder and secretly breathed a sigh of relief. To confirm that he was indeed asleep, I secretly glanced at him again. He looked even more handsome when he was asleep than usual. Using the word "handsome" to describe a man in his late twenties is a sin, but for a moment, I felt it was so fitting, especially his thick, long, slightly upturned eyelashes, which made him look somewhat childlike...tsk tsk tsk, look how good his parents were at raising him.
"Haven't you seen enough yet?" he suddenly opened his eyes and spoke, startling me so much I screamed, "Ah!" The flight attendant, thinking something had happened, rushed over and repeatedly asked, "Excuse me, is there anything I can help you with?"
I took the opportunity to order a coffee; it's free.
The "plague god" ignored me the entire way. But I didn't care too much, because my attention was completely drawn to the unlimited special food in business class, so I didn't bother to examine his double eyelids anymore. Just before disembarking, he probably couldn't stand it anymore and handed me a handkerchief, saying, "Are you full?" Good heavens, I almost fainted—this man uses a handkerchief?! It was just too perfect.
The meeting was for the acquisition of Legendary, Shanghai's largest media buying company. It's an advertising firm controlled by Swiss investors, so their negotiation team was almost entirely composed of foreigners. Besides "Plague God" and myself, we had several assistants from the Shanghai branch, including a young man named Peter who acted as our translator. However, after the first day of meetings, Peter practically became my personal translator, as "Plague God's" English was more than enough to handle the Belgians during the negotiations. The negotiations were difficult; the Belgians' stubbornness and rigid principles were giving us a major headache, but "Plague God" always seemed confident of victory. Having never witnessed such a large-scale event before, I was quite nervous. When I first handed the documents to "Plague God," my hand was shamefully trembling. As "Plague God" received the documents, he inadvertently shook my hand, looked up at me, and nodded. It was the first time I realized that a person's eyes could convey so much emotion in that instant. Strangely enough, after making eye contact with him, my mind suddenly cleared. Perhaps it was the sudden tension of the negotiation that made me so busy passing on documents that I forgot my fear, and my calves, which had been cramping under the table, stopped cramping. Although I had prepared the documents quite thoroughly before setting out, many situations at the negotiation table couldn't be found while hunched over a desk. Only those who have actually handled business on the front lines understand the subtleties involved. My habit of keeping a list of documents for each transaction proved invaluable at this moment; I was able to promptly deliver any necessary materials to the "plague god."
The Belgians still questioned our post-acquisition strategy, believing that the Chinese advertising market could only offer low-end services. They argued that even the largest corporate clients, like China Telecom, China Mobile, and the Bank of China, only spent 400-600 million RMB annually on advertising, thus supporting a maximum revenue of only 1.5 billion RMB for a local advertising company. However, the Belgians completely ignored their doubts, immediately presenting a series of statistics and data proving that in 2001, due to the global economic downturn, advertising growth slowed. But in 2000, the average Chinese person's advertising expenditure was only $6.07, while in the US it was around $540. According to some research institutions, if China grows at a rate of 7% annually, by 2020, China will surpass the US to become the world's largest advertising market. Moreover, many international advertising companies' services were inadequate; they didn't focus on developing local clients' brands, resulting in local clients paying higher fees but not receiving greater value. After the acquisition, we can leverage the low costs and personalized service advantages of our local subsidiaries, as well as our experience in helping clients grow from small to large, to jointly build an advertising behemoth. The "Plague God's" brain was like a super chip; he didn't even look at the computer in front of him, yet all the information seemed to be imprinted in his head. He didn't utter a single wasted word from beginning to end—it was incredibly impressive. Peter's simultaneous interpretation became my help in preparing and submitting various documents for Wilson. Although it was our first time working together, we cooperated quite well. In my opinion, we only barely gained some initiative in the first round of negotiations. The Belgians' stubbornness and lack of understanding would be a major headache for us in the coming days. When I said this, I couldn't help but sigh. To my surprise, the "Plague God" just smiled slightly, raised the corners of his mouth, and said, "They'll be begging us to sign the merger agreement in three days at most." I looked up at him in disbelief. He patted my shoulder and walked away.
Peter and I made a face at each other, then quickly picked up the things on the stage and followed along, skipping along.
Back at the hotel, the "plague god" instructed us to go back to our rooms and rest for a while before having dinner with colleagues from the Shanghai branch. My highly tense nerves finally relaxed. I put myself in the large jacuzzi, soaking in the hot water, my chin covered in snow-white bubbles. I groaned comfortably, thinking: When I'm successful, I'll add a large Japanese-style wooden tub to my bathroom, and always keep a good vintage Bordeaux red wine on hand. That's what it means to enjoy life.
When I was jolted awake by the shrill ringing of the phone, the water in the bathtub had already turned ice-cold under the blast of the central air conditioning, sending a chill down my spine. The phone was still ringing. I quickly got up, put on my bathrobe, and reached for the bathroom phone: "RUBY, what are you doing? Our whole group is waiting for you in the restaurant. The boss looks really grumpy. Why aren't you downstairs yet?" Peter on the other end was clearly anxious, but he kept his voice down, speaking perfect Mandarin, which was enough to wake me up.
"Okay, I'll be right down." I shook my still-sleepy head vigorously, trying to be as quick as possible.
When I got down to the restaurant, my hair was still dripping wet. I glanced at the table; most of the dishes had already been served. I apologized and quickly sat down in the empty seat next to Peter, not daring to look at that "plague god's" sour face.
The Shanghai branch manager, trying to lighten the increasingly tense atmosphere, said to the "plague god," "Boss, how about we go to Celebrity City, Shanghai's most famous club, tonight to relax..."
"No need, I have other plans." Although I had expected the "plague god's" answer, I still secretly breathed a sigh of relief. I don't know if my exhalation was too loud, but Peter gave me a strange look and then exclaimed in surprise, "Ruby, why is your face so red?"
His shout brought everyone at the table to my face. If my face didn't turn red soon, my circulatory system must be failing. I waved my hand resentfully and said, "Beautiful women should blush more often to boost their metabolism."
My nose suddenly started to itch, and I quickly turned my head. "Yawn!" Although I tried to keep my voice down, the sound of my sneeze coming out of my nose was still loud enough to be described as "roaring" in the restaurant of this five-star hotel.
"Excuse me!" I hurriedly whispered, trying to appear somewhat ladylike, but out of the corner of my eye, I still caught a glimpse of the undisguised disdain on the face of my elegant Shanghai colleague next to me. My boastful words had probably offended all the beautiful women at the table. Even though the "plague god" was expressionless, his demeanor only made me feel more ashamed. I thought that after this trip back, I could say goodbye to the privilege of sharing a restroom with the beautiful Joyes and return to the sales department's lobby to continue enjoying the camaraderie of the battlefield with other salespeople. That wouldn't be bad, but there seemed to be a lingering sense of regret. What was it that I regretted? I wasn't quite sure yet.
"Are you alright? You didn't catch a cold, did you?" Sensing the atmosphere at the dinner table, Peter kindly wanted to help me save face, so he turned to ask me.
"It's nothing, it's nothing, I probably just fell asleep in the shower." I said, moving to the side. I can't help it, whether he's handsome or not, I just can't accept being less than 30 centimeters apart from a man.
This meal was incredibly difficult. Several times I felt an overwhelming urge to sneeze, but the thought of Peter's stern face forced me to suppress it with forced smiles. This kind of forbearance was inhumane; my eyes stung, and tears streamed down my face. Meanwhile, I had to desperately eat the food Peter so attentively piled into my bowl, despite my deep resentment towards this utterly unhygienic politeness. By the end of the meal, my stomach was bloated, and I felt dizzy. As soon as I stood up, all I saw were cups and saucers spinning in front of me, and I stumbled. I knew that if Peter saw me like this, he would insist on escorting me back to my room to demonstrate his gentlemanly manners, so I quickly steadied myself on the table and flashed a very polite smile at the people about to leave. But I seemed to be a step too slow. Before my smile could fully open, my left arm was grabbed. I never imagined that the effeminate Peter's hand was so big and strong; it almost immobilized me. But I still didn't want him to hold me like that all the way to my room on the 25th floor, lest people suspect my sexual orientation along the way. I said while brushing my left arm with my right hand, "Don't help me, I'm fine."
"Come with me!" Wait, why is that voice so fierce? I looked up and realized it was the "Plague God" grabbing me. "Phew, thank goodness it's not Peter," I secretly breathed a sigh of relief and gave up struggling, but my mouth still wouldn't stop: "Fine, let's go, why are you being so fierce? In broad daylight, I don't believe you can eat me!!" But one glare from the "Plague God" and I immediately shut up obediently, and naturally shoved the leftover napkins from the table into my bag. Although my mind was starting to get a little fuzzy, I still knew I couldn't afford to offend the Rice Master, so I had no choice but to resign myself to fate and let him carry me under his arm towards the lobby. Sigh, he's really too tall. I know how ugly I look right now, but before leaving, I still forced myself to remain calm and waved to the stunned crowd. What will tomorrow bring? I'll think about it tomorrow.
Next, there was only one thing I needed to do: fully experience the warmth of someone's broad chest. To be honest, it felt much more comfortable than I had imagined.
"Mmm," I couldn't help but groan in pleasure.
"What's wrong?" Perhaps he was starting to get distracted, but the "Plague God's" usually stern voice sounded surprisingly gentle.
"Oh, my head hurts so much." I pretended to frown, inwardly cursing myself for being a pervert. But despite the cursing, I couldn't bear to leave his chest. Even as I stepped into the elevator, I was thinking that becoming a mole on his chest wouldn't be an ideal state, because I was really curious about what kind of woman his heart would beat like a galloping horse when it met him—you know, the kind of heart-pounding feeling described in novels. Suddenly, I unexpectedly recalled him speaking Korean to the computer.
The moment I lay down on the bed, I truly felt the pain in every bone of my body. The "plague god" professionally touched my forehead and said, "You have a fever."
"Oh, you have a fever, you're growing taller," I replied, trying to sound very knowledgeable.
He stared at me strangely for a long time before saying, "One day, when you leave this world, I will definitely set up a fund for your mouth."
“You don’t have to wait until I die to do good deeds. You can hand it over to the animal welfare association for supervision.” After saying this, I felt a surge of nausea rise from the bottom of my stomach. I barely had time to sit up before I vomited violently, splattering filth everywhere. The worst part was that, unfortunately, most of the filth landed on the “plague god”! I was stunned, staring blankly at the “plague god’s” filthy shoes. The “plague god,” on the other hand, didn’t seem to care at all, not even glancing at himself, and was busy walking around looking for a towel and pouring hot water for me. Seeing that I was staring blankly at the dirt on his shoes, he had no choice but to squat down in front of me, look into my eyes, and say, "Okay, it's alright. I know the abalone on my shoes tastes good, but what's done is done. You can't eat it back if you keep staring at it. At most, from now on, I'll buy you the second abalone you eat, and we'll make it a little bigger than this one, okay?" His voice was gentler than ever before, completely different from his previous stiff demeanor, and his words really struck a chord with me. As he helped me lie down again, I added, "And the coconut snow frog paste on your socks and the pan-fried sea bass on your trouser leg."
"Okay, okay, one meal isn't enough, then have two. If two meals aren't enough, then come to my house for dinner, okay?"