Following that, the financing progress for both Kunpeng and Huawei continued to advance at a measured pace.

Jing Hong caught wind of the fact that, to signal to the market that Huawei’s largest shareholder remained highly confident in the company’s trajectory, Qinghui intended to follow invest slightly in the upcoming round—a token gesture that aligned perfectly with industry conventions. It appeared as though Zhou Chang had truly resigned himself to the reality of being unable to lead the round and being forced to settle for a co-investor status. Yet, Jing Hong found this compliance thoroughly baffling.

One day, while Jing Hong was deeply engrossed in handling matters related to cloud computing, the Vice President of the Online Finance Business Group suddenly approached him, saying, “President Jing, our team picked up on something unusual. I thought you might want to take a look.”

“Oh?” Jing Hong let out a curious hum. “What is it?”

“It’s like this,” the VP explained. “One of the teams in our department just interviewed a former Huawei employee. During the technical review, the hiring manager discovered that the projects and specific architecture this candidate worked on during his time at Huawei overlap significantly with one of our own core initiatives.”

“Really?” Jing Hong kept the call on speakerphone, his eyes scanning a cloud computing document as he listened. “Which project?” Despite multitasking, his focus on both fronts remained razor-sharp.

“The AI Lending project,” the VP answered. “The flagship initiative of the Online Finance Business Group. The hiring manager was sharp enough to flag it. Once he realized Huawei was developing the exact same framework, he reported it to his product director, who then escalated it to the head of AI Lending. The head felt it was critical to bring this directly to my attention.” The VP, a Silicon Valley returnee, naturally peppered his speech with industry jargon.

“…” Jing Hong’s gaze froze mid-sentence.

AI Lending was indeed the crown jewel of Panhai Group’s Online Finance Business Group at the moment. By integrating cutting-edge technologies like Automatic Speech Recognition (ASR) and Natural Language Processing (NLP), the product aimed to streamline the application process and drastically reduce approval times. Applicants wouldn’t need to fill out extensive text fields—a crucial feature considering many micro-loan applicants were functionally illiterate, such as traditional farmers looking to expand livestock poultry operations, or small-business owners born in the 1980s who simply weren’t accustomed to typing on mobile screens. Furthermore, through automated AI risk analysis, processing times would plummet from the traditional timeframe of several weeks down to mere minutes, ensuring no disruptions to daily business operations. Panhai’s current benchmark was the “330” standard: a 3-minute application process, a 3-minute automated audit, and absolutely 0 human intervention.

Additionally, Panhai’s AI Lending model leveraged the parent company’s vast repository of ecosystem data. As an internet titan, Panhai possessed an immense volume of user information. The AI automatically conducted comprehensive risk assessments by analyzing a user’s “digital footprint,” evaluating social connectivity data, payment histories, and behavioral patterns to rapidly construct a precise credit profile. This multi-dimensional risk management framework went far beyond merely pulling basic records from the central bank.

Moreover, this AI Lending product featured an advanced auxiliary interface for video-based interviews. Employing micro-expression recognition technology, the system could flag the probability of applicant fraud in real time, escalating suspicious profiles to professional auditors for manual review. Its accuracy in detecting deception was exceptionally high, exceeding 90%. Finally, the framework incorporated deep post-loan management; by utilizing GPS data and machine learning models, the AI could analyze regional soil conditions, weather patterns, and agricultural metrics to evaluate the operational risks facing farmers, providing them with automated online guidance.

Panhai intended to deploy this AI Lending product to dominate the national micro-loan sector while forging deep, systemic partnerships with small and medium-sized commercial banks. Given its sophisticated client onboarding, identity verification, risk control, and post-loan management technologies, Jing Hong harbored immense confidence that the product’s applications would be incredibly vast.

Lending operations had always commanded staggering profit margins.

Yet… Huawei was actually developing the exact same thing?

“Do you have concrete details?” Jing Hong asked over the phone, his voice remaining completely unfazed.

“We only know a few elements, but the structural alignment seems remarkably close,” the VP replied. “The core functionalities are virtually identical. Both models support voice integration and leverage proprietary data pools. Their version might lack a few of our non-core auxiliary systems, though we can’t verify that with absolute certainty. Word is they are targeting a market launch next year. The kid who interviewed graduated just over a year ago and didn’t have a firm grasp on corporate confidentiality protocols. When the interviewer pressed for details regarding his previous project’s scope and his specific deliverables, he opened up quite a bit. He probably didn’t realize he was stumbling directly into our proprietary territory.”

Incidents of this nature were fairly commonplace in the tech sector. Generally, only executive-level “heavyweights” signed stringent, binding non-disclosure agreements, while junior engineers did not. Quite a few newcomers inadvertently leaked project specifications during interviews, and some firms even went so far as to orchestrate fake recruitment pipelines purely to extract competitive intelligence. That said, low-level personnel rarely understood the broader architecture of a project anyway; an individual engineer typically only mastered the specific technical module assigned to them, leaving them blind to the macro-strategy, which meant corporations rarely concerned themselves with such leaks.

“…” Jing Hong pondered the situation for a brief moment before directing, “Let’s handle it this way: arrange a follow-up interview for that former Huawei employee. Have the head of the AI Lending project join the panel personally. Instruct him to drill into the granular technical details, such as the specific engineering bottlenecks the candidate encountered in his module. We need to evaluate his technical responses to determine whether this project genuinely exists over there.”

The VP replied, “Understood. Will do.”

Hanging up the receiver, Jing Hong stared blankly ahead for a short while.

The conclusion drawn from the follow-up interview was clear: “No visible discrepancies were detected,” and “The project appears entirely legitimate.”

The Vice President of the Online Finance Business Group added that toward the end of the session, the candidate seemed to sense something was amiss. He stopped expanding on the project’s technical specifications and grew visibly anxious—a highly genuine, uncalculated reaction.

Despite the evidence, Jing Hong remained deeply skeptical. Consequently, over the next several days, his executive assistant began conducting an exhaustive background investigation to verify the authenticity of Huawei’s rumored “AI Lending” initiative.

The findings returned absolutely flawless.

For instance, over six months ago—well before the President of Goldman Sachs Greater China convened Panhai and Qinghui to broker the Kunpeng-Huawei merger—Huawei had already initiated a massive recruitment drive for AI talent. Furthermore, an analysis of their public job descriptions revealed that their primary targets were specialists highly proficient in Automatic Speech Recognition (ASR), Natural Language Processing (NLP), and micro-expression recognition—requirements that aligned seamlessly with the technical demands of the AI Lending product.

Additionally, a review of the LinkedIn profiles of specific Huawei engineers confirmed they were actively building an interconnected framework. One engineer explicitly noted that he was leading the micro-expression recognition module for an unreleased Huawei product, while another detailed his responsibilities over parallel technical components. The assistant had even gone so far as to have an operative pose as an executive headhunter to contact them directly, raising precise questions that confirmed the product’s architecture.

Everything checked out.

In short, the operational reality of the project was ironclad.

On the day the assistant delivered the final dossier, Jing Hong finished reviewing the intelligence and allowed his fingers to tap softly against the expansive executive desk for a long moment.

It wasn’t that his suspicions had completely evaporated.

Jing Hong maintained a strong gut feeling that this entire scenario could still be an elaborate ruse—a complex setup designed to force his hand into surrendering the CEO position of the newly merged entity to his rival. A trap meticulously engineered by Zhou Chang.

Yet, Jing Hong simply could not afford to gamble.

Kunpeng, at the end of the day, was merely a small portfolio company funded by Panhai’s investment arm. Conversely, the AI Lending product struck at the vital strategic interests of Panhai Group itself.

Having reached a definitive conclusion, Jing Hong pressed the intercom and summoned Zhao Hanqing, the President of the Investment Department and Group Vice President: “Hanqing, step into my office for a moment.”

Zhao Hanqing replied, “I’ll be right there.”

“Take your time. No rush.”

The moment Zhao Hanqing crossed the threshold, Jing Hong’s opening directive caught him entirely off guard: “Notify Managing Director Shen at Goldman Sachs that Panhai wishes to immediately reactivate the merger negotiations between Kunpeng and Huawei. We will concede the CEO position to Qinghui’s side, but Panhai must secure absolute veto power on the board. Make sure to align with Kunpeng’s CEO beforehand so he doesn’t break ranks and object publicly.”

As Kunpeng’s primary financial backer, ensuring the cooperation of Kunpeng’s CEO was a trivial matter; in reality, a subtle shift in funding leverage would suffice. While Jing Hong routinely supported the founders of the startups within his portfolio, he had no intention of jeopardizing Panhai’s core business for their sake. He possessed no such altruism.

“Concede the position to them?” Zhao Hanqing stood momentarily stunned. “Why such a sudden reversal?”

It wasn’t merely sudden; it left him completely blindsided.

“We have no alternative,” Jing Hong remarked, his eyes conveying a cold, clinical detachment. “One of Huawei’s stealth initiatives has run into direct conflict with a flagship project of our own. Based on current projections, their market launch timeline mirrors ours almost exactly.”

Zhao Hanqing pressed, “Which initiative?”

“AI Lending,” Jing Hong stated succinctly, keeping the details contained. “The executive board maintains immense confidence in this product’s market application. As you know, the profit potential in corporate lending is astronomical. Furthermore, because it directly services micro and small enterprises, this product carries massive branding value for Panhai’s corporate reputation. Now that our product roadmaps have converged, we are forced to expedite the merger.”

Zhao Hanqing let out a slow sigh. “I see.”

He fully grasped Jing Hong’s strategic calculus.

AI Lending represented one of Panhai Group’s core pillars for the upcoming fiscal periods, and the corporation naturally refused to allow a competitor to debut an identical architecture simultaneously. On one hand, Qinghui commanded vast proprietary data reservoirs of its own; the product built by its portfolio company, Huawei, wouldn’t necessarily underperform compared to Panhai’s model. Should both hit the market together, Huawei would inevitably blunt Panhai’s momentum, preventing them from establishing an absolute, uncontested monopoly in a highly lucrative sector. On the other hand, Panhai operated fundamentally as a premier technology titan, and Jing Hong viewed this specific product as the ultimate showcase of the group’s innovation, technical execution, and social responsibility. With the AI sector expanding exponentially, Panhai had positioned itself at the absolute forefront by deploying a highly efficient, reliable lending framework to safeguard small businesses. If a minor startup managed to launch a comparable framework at the exact same time, it would severely diminish the Online Finance Business Group’s claim to industry leadership. The market consensus would shift to: Well, it looks like Panhai’s technology isn’t all that revolutionary after all.

However, if Kunpeng and Huawei executed an immediate merger, Panhai and Qinghui would both transition into major institutional shareholders of the unified entity. Operating from that powerful position of equity leverage, Panhai could directly intervene in the new company’s operational directives and order an immediate halt to Huawei’s parallel AI Lending project. Achieving this was entirely feasible; avoiding actions that compromised the interests of a primary institutional shareholder remained a baseline standard of commercial conduct—especially since Jing Hong was demanding absolute veto power as a prerequisite for the deal.

Zhao Hanqing recognized that, from Jing Hong’s perspective, when weighed against the vital interests of Panhai itself—and specifically the flagship asset of the Online Finance division—the single CEO seat of the Kunpeng-Huawei joint venture had entirely lost its strategic significance.

“Move swiftly,” Jing Hong commanded. “Force the merger through immediately, and once the ink is dry, shut down Huawei’s current AI Lending operation.”

Zhao Hanqing nodded firmly. “Understood.”

Yet, before turning to execute the directive, Zhao Hanqing paused to raise one final query: “President Jing, is there any possibility that this entire scenario was engineered by Qinghui from the start? Could their ultimate objective have been to shock us into immediately restarting the merger?”

“It’s highly possible.” Jing Hong turned his gaze toward the expansive window, looking out into the city skyline. “But I have no intention of taking that risk.” Whether the threat was genuine or fabricated, the existence of Huawei’s parallel product directly endangered Panhai’s core business.

Zhao Hanqing remained silent.

“Therefore,” Jing Hong concluded, his voice leveling out, “if this truly was an elaborate trap… then they have won this round.”

_

Author’s Notes:

Neither of them is a saint.

This chapter should be relatively straightforward. Jing Hong refuses to allow Huawei to deploy an identical product to the market. By forcing a merger between Kunpeng and Huawei, he ceases to be merely a shareholder in Kunpeng and gains significant equity leverage over Huawei, allowing him to directly shut down their conflicting project.

Self-correction: I used a variation of this strategic concept in a previous novel, but only for this specific plot point! All the corporate standoffs and business strategies moving forward in this book are entirely fresh. This sequence serves a critical structural purpose…

The highly technical business maneuvers for this specific corporate case largely conclude here! The upcoming chapters will pivot toward character interactions and dialogue, allowing everyone to take a breather! Orz… I’ll be taking a breather as well…

In the previous chapter, some readers asked about the “Tian Liang Wang Po” reference, hahahaha. The meme originated from a classic 2005 web novel on the Jinjiang forum, where the iconic opening line read, “The weather is turning cold; let the Wang Corporation go bankrupt.” It quickly went viral as a satirical shorthand for overbearing billionaire tropes. Newer readers might not know that over a decade ago, the Jinjiang forums were a major platform for reading web fiction, categorized back then as “Green Jinjiang” and “Pink Jinjiang.” While the forums themselves no longer host much fiction, the catchphrase has endured as a permanent piece of internet slang…