Living in a county town, starting as a stock market maker...

Longquan Winery, Chairman's Office.

The mahogany furniture and calligraphy and paintings by famous artists in this office used to represent Zhou Jianjun's status and position.

But now, this place feels more like a cage that confines him.

"Get out! All of you, get out!"

A blue-and-white porcelain teacup was smashed to pieces on the ground, and hot tea splashed onto the expensive handmade carpet.

Several men in suits were so frightened that they stood motionless in front of the desk.

They were the so-called top-tier public relations team that Zhou Jianjun hired from the provincial capital for nearly two million yuan.

The middle-aged man at the head of the group pushed up his gold-rimmed glasses and tried to explain.

"Mr. Zhou, please don't worry. Dealing with online criticism takes time. We've already published positive articles in major media outlets, stating that our company is a major taxpayer and makes significant contributions to the local area, hoping to divert everyone's attention..."

"Draw them away?"

Zhou Jianjun suddenly stood up, his eyes bloodshot, staring intently at him.

"I paid two million to have you read from a script? The internet is flooded with videos criticizing us unscrupulous manufacturers! My phone's been ringing off the hook with calls from distributors! And you're telling me to divert attention?"

The PR manager shrank back after being yelled at.

"Jay Chou, we're in the new media era now. Things on those short video platforms spread too fast, and they're not under the jurisdiction of our traditional media channels..."

"I don't care about new media or old media!"

Zhou Jianjun slammed his fist on the table, making the pen holder jump. "I want you to make those insults disappear! Now! Immediately! If you can't do it, get out!"

The PR team members looked at each other and finally slunk out of the office.

They knew they had messed up the job.

Faced with the overwhelming public opinion online, their old tricks of issuing press releases and inviting reporters to dinner are completely useless.

The office door was closed, cutting off the sounds from outside.

Zhou Jianjun slumped weakly into a chair. He pulled a pack of special-supply cigarettes from a drawer, his hands trembling so badly that he had to try several times to light it.

The thick smoke made his tired face appear somewhat blurry.

He couldn't figure it out.

Longquan Winery is a business that has been built up over nearly a century by three generations, starting with his grandfather's generation.

How did things get to this point in just a few days?

Isn't it just that in the low-end product line, a little bit of edible alcohol was used to blend it in order to control costs?

Isn't this how everyone in the industry does it?

Why did he have to be the one chosen as a typical example?

Another cell phone on the table rang.

The caller ID showed "Wang Pangzi".

This is a long-time distributor he has worked with for over twenty years; the two are as close as brothers.

Zhou Jianjun took a deep breath, answered the phone, and tried to make his voice sound calm.

"Hey, Fatty."

"Brother Jun..." The voice on the other end of the phone was full of guilt, "I'm sorry, buddy, this time... I really can't take it anymore."

Zhou Jianjun's heart sank suddenly.

"What do you mean?"

"All the hundreds of tobacco and liquor stores I manage came to me today to return their goods. They said they can't sell a single bottle of Longquan liquor now, and they feel it's bad luck to have it on the shelves. Some customers even blocked my store door, saying they got diarrhea after drinking our liquor... Brother Jun, you have to return the millions of yuan worth of goods in my warehouse. Otherwise, I won't be able to pay the rent next month."

"Fatty Wang!"

Zhou Jianjun's voice suddenly rose, "We've known each other for twenty years! Now that I'm in trouble, instead of helping me, you're the first to kick me while I'm down?"

"Brother Jun, it's not that I don't want to help you. It's just that if I don't return the goods, I'll lose everything! My whole family depends on me for a living!"

A long sigh came from the other end of the phone, followed by the busy tone of a disconnection.

Zhou Jianjun held the phone, stunned for a long time.

Twenty years of brotherhood, gone just like that.

This phone call was just the beginning.

For the next hour, Zhou Jianjun's phone kept ringing.

Distributors from all over the country, as if by prior arrangement, all called to request returns and refunds.

Some were relatively polite, while others started swearing and cursing over the phone.

At first, Zhou Jianjun got angry with them, then he started to plead for them in a humble voice, and finally he stopped responding completely and let them curse him on the phone.

He finally understood that there are no brothers in the business world, only interests.

"Ring ring—"

The landline on my desk rang again.

He's an inside player.

He weakly pressed the speakerphone button.

The CFO's anxious voice came through.

"Chairman, President Li from the Agricultural Bank called again, urging us to repay that 30 million yuan loan that's due next week. I asked him for a few more days, and he just hung up. The Construction Bank and the Industrial and Commercial Bank of China also called, saying they need to reassess our credit risk..."

"I see."

Zhou Jianjun waved his hand wearily, as if the action had exhausted all his strength.

Banks are always there to add to someone's success, but they're also always there to kick someone when they're down.

He leaned back in his chair, his eyes closed, but felt a tightness in his chest, as if he couldn't breathe.

He thought of that rebellious son he still couldn't contact.

If it weren't for the fact that it was to buy him a multi-million dollar wedding house in the provincial capital, he wouldn't have even considered cutting costs on low-end liquor.

He also thought of his father.

Before his death, the old man entrusted the winery to him, repeatedly instructing him to safeguard the family business.

But now, this century-old winery is about to be completely ruined in his hands.

The office was filled with smoke, making it hard to breathe.

Zhou Jianjun even began to hallucinate, as if he saw his grandfather and father standing opposite him, looking at him with disappointment.

Just then, the CFO pushed open the door and walked in; his face was ashen, worse than a dead man's.

He gently placed a report on Zhou Jianjun's desk.

"Chairman...this is the company's latest cash flow report."

His voice was trembling.

"All the distributors' accounts payable have suddenly surged, and the banks have stopped issuing new loans. Our cash on hand... at most... at most, can only last another week."

"A week later, we didn't even have the money to pay our employees' salaries."

A week.

It’s over.

It's all over.

He even started considering whether to sell his ancestral home in the suburbs.

That was the last face the Zhou family had left, and also his last way out.

Even if they sell their ancestral home, how many days can they survive?

Just then.

There was a gentle knock on the office door.

The secretary peeked in, cautiously watching him, afraid of saying the wrong thing.

"Chairman..."

Zhou Jianjun remained motionless and unresponsive.

The secretary hesitated for a moment, but still forced herself to continue:

"There's a Mr. Gu Ming from Star Media outside. He says he has a solution and wants to talk to you."

Star Media?

Gu Ming?

An unfamiliar name.

Zhou Jianjun's empty eyes finally showed a slight fluctuation.

solution?

At a time when everyone wants to tear a piece of his flesh off, there are still people who dare to come to his door and say they have a solution?

This sounds like a joke.

But this was also the only good thing he heard today, besides the bad news.

So long that the secretary thought he would never speak again.

"Let him...in."