Two weeks after drafting the agreement, the various parties involved in the Kunpeng-Huawei merger officially signed the paperwork.

Except for the CEO position, Jing Hong was generally satisfied with this dual-party merger. The new post-merger company established an 11-member board of directors: the management team held five seats—including the former CEO of Kunpeng, the former CEO of Huawei, the CTOs (Chief Technology Officers) of both sides, and a CMO (Chief Marketing Officer)—financial investors held two seats, and Panhai and Qinghui each held two seats.

On the day after the merger documents were officially signed, Jing Hong went to attend an artificial intelligence forum.

The forum had official backing. Previously, both Jing Hong and Zhou Chang had agreed to deliver speeches at the main forum, and both had been scheduled for the most important morning slot on the first day.

After receiving the schedule for this forum last week, Jing Hong discovered that following a well-known scholar, the speaking order for Panhai, Qinghui, the other two of the “Big Four,” and several major American companies actually followed the “alphabetical order of their surnames.” He was third, and Zhou Chang was last. When Jing Hong shared this as a joke at an executive meeting, President Qun of Panhai Entertainment flashed a tacit, knowing smile.

The venue for the AI forum was the Beijing International Convention Center.

The morning began with the opening ceremony, where several officials took turns delivering speeches. This forum was of a rather high specification, considered the largest AI exchange event in China. The Premier sent a congratulatory letter, which was read by the Chairman of the China Association for Science and Technology, who also served as the host for this conference. In addition, several other officials, such as the Minister of Industry and Information Technology and the Vice Minister of Commerce, attended this edition of the conference in a brand-new video format to deliver keynote speeches. Finally, the Secretary of the Beijing Municipal Party Committee delivered a speech and declared the forum officially open.

Following the opening ceremony was a brief recess. During this interval, leaders and guests were to step over to the First VIP Lounge to take a group photo.

Because of an important phone call, Jing Hong arrived a little late. The leaders were already in position, and the guests were busy arranging themselves. Jing Hong looked over and found that to the left of the leaders in the front row stood the CEO of a major American company, while to their right… was Zhou Chang. To Zhou Chang’s right were executives from the other two “Internet Big Four.” It was evenly balanced, half Chinese and half foreign.

“…” Jing Hong intended to just find a random spot, so he stood at the outermost edge of the line on the Chinese side.

As a result, the few CEOs in front of him immediately appeared thoroughly terrified and deferential, stepping back one after another to cede their positions and let Jing Hong move ahead of them.

Time was short, so Jing Hong wasn’t overly polite and walked straight down the line.

What Jing Hong didn’t expect was that when he moved alongside Zhou Chang, Zhou Chang actually acted quite gentlemanly. He stepped aside slightly and raised a hand: “President Jing, right here.”

“No need, President Zhou,” Jing Hong feigned politeness as well. “It’s fine just like this.”

“Come on over.” Zhou Chang smiled faintly, forcibly pulling Jing Hong into the space between himself and the leaders. Seeing their polite exchanges, the leaders smiled too.

The two of them had always been courteous and civil whenever they actually ran into each other face-to-face, while stabbing each other in the back behind the scenes.

Once he settled into his spot, Jing Hong thought about it and suddenly realized: This actually looks a bit better.

Because Zhou Chang was simply too tall.

Jing Hong didn’t know Zhou Chang’s exact height, but estimated it to be nearly 190 cm. For someone of that height to stand right in the middle, right next to the leaders, was to upstage the hosts and overshadow everyone else. Therefore, standing as far to the side as possible was always for the best. The leaders might not necessarily care, but being mindful of it showed tact after all.

Once the group photo session began, a swarm of journalists hopped around everywhere. Jing Hong clasped his hands in front of him, displaying his most impeccably tailored smile—steady and warm.

Flashes flickered continuously. Finally, the photo session came to an end.

Because they were standing so close together, when Jing Hong pulled his hands apart, the back of his right hand accidentally brushed against Zhou Chang’s fingers.

Zhou Chang instinctively looked over. Jing Hong glanced down toward that hand: “…My apologies.”

Zhou Chang looked at Jing Hong for a few seconds before replying, “It’s fine.”

“Alright, alright,” a staff member from the forum ran over and said. “After the forum concludes, all official photos will be sent to everyone’s email, okay!”

She happened to be standing diagonally in front of Jing Hong on the leaders’ side. Being close by, Jing Hong smiled and said, “Thank you.” Whenever he wasn’t falling out with someone, he always appeared easygoing.

Zhou Chang also appeared easygoing on the surface, but where Jing Hong’s easygoingness was that of an equal, Zhou Chang’s carried an air of lofty condescension.

…………

After the photos, the main forum commenced.

Jing Hong was the third to take the stage. Dressed in a dark suit and a pristine white shirt, he adjusted the microphone and said: “Respected Secretary Zheng, respected Minister Wu, Minister Wang, fellow IT colleagues, and old and new friends, hello everyone.”

Enthusiastic applause instantly erupted from the audience.

Seeing this, Jing Hong smiled and said, “I’m a bit flattered. I hope the next few minutes of mine will be worthy of this applause.” As always, he was polite and measured, winning the crowd’s favor.

Once the room settled back into silence, Jing Hong dove into the core topic: “In the past, the exploration of artificial intelligence has primarily focused on three levels: its value to society, its value to enterprises, and the ethical risks of AI. Today, I mainly want to discuss another aspect that is rarely noticed—the opening of the algorithmic black box.”

Jing Hong saw the audience below display keen interest.

“Algorithmic black box” was a term familiar to everyone in the audience. Artificial intelligence mimicked the human brain to learn; for instance, when humans provided an AI with vast quantities of cat and dog images, it could extract feature layers on its own to learn “what is a cat” and “what is a dog.” However, humans currently could not explain the working principles of AI, nor understand why the machine chose to do certain things or arrived at certain conclusions. Based on the output, some thought processes were simple and easy to comprehend, such as the contours or colors of cats and dogs, but many times this was not the case—which is to say, humans could not understand it. It offered humanity unprecedented possibilities, while simultaneously presenting endless confusion. Some said that having an AI explain something to a human was equivalent to a human explaining something to a dog—a frustrating thought to hear.

Yet human history fully demonstrated that only when a decision could be explained and analyzed could humans fully comprehend its merits and drawbacks, further evaluate risks, and understand to what extent it could be trusted. Nowadays, however, several questions lingered in the mind of every scholar: Can we trust AI? To what extent can we trust AI? Can we trust AI in matters of life and death?

On stage, Jing Hong continued, “This year, DARPA proposed the concept of ‘Explainable AI’ (XAI), and Academician He Jifeng also proposed the concept of ‘Trustworthy AI.’ Currently, scientists worldwide are striving to unseal the black box and explain algorithms, and Panhai’s research institute is also willing to share some of our findings. My upcoming speech will be divided into three main modules: the first covers the latest policies and current research status across various countries; the second details some of Panhai’s achievements and tools—tools that Panhai will share in the upcoming Trustworthy AI White Paper; and the final part will focus on development trends and recommendations, offering a call to action for the industry.”

His tone was unhurried and measured.

At one point in between, Jing Hong’s gaze casually swept past Zhou Chang, only to discover that Zhou Chang was actually listening quite attentively.

Toward the end of the speech, Jing Hong reaffirmed in a firm tone, “The emphasis on Explainable AI and Trustworthy AI is an inevitable trend in AI development; otherwise, issues such as algorithmic security and algorithmic accountability cannot be resolved. We are not pessimistic—throughout human civilization, practice often precedes theory. When many things were invented, the inventors themselves did not understand the working principles behind their inventions, such as gunpowder. When gunpowder was invented, its creator certainly didn’t know the chemical formula for producing carbon dioxide. Therefore, I believe that through human wisdom, we will eventually unveil AI’s mysterious veil completely and allow artificial intelligence to realize its maximum value. Thank you, everyone.”

This time, the applause was even more thunderous. It appeared Jing Hong had fully delivered on making “the next few minutes worthy of this applause.”

…………

Each speaker was allotted 20 minutes. After Jing Hong’s speech came a brief tea break. Truth be told, Jing Hong found the organizers’ schedule a bit odd; generally, there were no morning tea breaks, only afternoon ones, yet this conference had two tea breaks every day. Naturally, Jing Hong didn’t mind either way.

Inside the tea break area, all kinds of Chinese and Western coffees, teas, juices, desserts, fruits, and nuts were abundantly provided; the organizers were remarkably thoughtful.

Jing Hong walked over to a corner, picked up a glass, and poured himself a micro-alcoholic drink called “Pink Diamonds.” The ice cubes clinked as the pale red alcoholic liquid swirled up and down within the glass.

This happened to be the only alcoholic beverage available in the tea break area.

Turning around, Jing Hong spotted the CEO of a major American company greeting him from not far away, so he picked up his pace and walked over.

Along the way, he passed Zhou Chang, who was being engaged in small talk by the CEO of a declining, veteran internet company. This veteran internet firm had built its foundation on a web portal and later attempted several transformations, none of which succeeded. Jing Hong overheard the CEO of that old-school internet company laughingly say to Zhou Chang, “President Zhou, how come you never post on Moments? You don’t reply to anyone either.”

To which Zhou Chang replied with a smile, “I never even open that thing.”

“Oh?” The other party sounded intrigued. “Why is that?”

Zhou Chang smiled again: “I have no interest in learning the details of several thousand people eating, drinking, and going to the bathroom.” It was delivered in a joking tone, yet it left the person opposite him struck dumb for a long time.

It took Jing Hong a immense amount of self-control to suppress the urge to roll his eyes.

Soon, however, he started pondering: That CEO… could he have badmouthed Zhou Chang before too?

Afterward, with his glass held in one hand and the other tucked into his pants pocket, Jing Hong chatted and laughed with the CEO of that major American company.

Anyone could enter the tea break area, so every now and then, other company executives Jing Hong knew, founders of startup companies invested in by Panhai, Panhai Group employees, professors from partner universities, and various other people would greet Jing Hong—some passing by, others approaching intentionally.

Meanwhile on the other side, several more people had gathered around Zhou Chang. Inside Zhou Chang’s glass was the very same pale red alcoholic drink.

Generally speaking, a small group of high-status individuals would stand closer to the doorway, while other ordinary attendees would automatically gather further inside.

Right now, on the side near the entrance of the tea break hall, Jing Hong stood on one side and Zhou Chang stood on the other. The two of them were always like this—standing in stark rivalry, almost never sitting at the same table, and almost never standing in the same circle. Surrounding them were always their respective retinues of “Panhai Faction” and “Qinghui Faction” members. Jing Hong knew that many companies had long grown sick of taking sides between “Panhai” or “Qinghui,” but they had no choice—surviving in the cracks between two giants and two battlefields was no easy feat. With Panhai and Qinghui waging all-out war across every domain of the internet, innocent bystanders were bound to get caught in the crossfire.

Zhou Chang had several people around him, both Chinese and American. At the moment, the founder of a Chinese unicorn startup was speaking. Jing Hong had to admit that Zhou Chang’s impressive height and striking features made him stand out from the crowd. American companies attached great importance to external appearance, so the CEOs they promoted were typically tall and dashing, whereas Chinese CEOs often paled in comparison, appearing decidedly grassroots. Yet Zhou Chang didn’t lose ground in the slightest; holding his glass with his eyes lowered, he appeared to be listening intently, yet remained the focal point of everyone’s vision.

Not that Jing Hong cared, however. At 179 cm tall, he was plenty tall himself. Besides, with his status and position, what did it matter even if he were 159 cm?

As if sensing Jing Hong’s gaze, Zhou Chang suddenly looked over.

With one hand holding his glass and the other tucked in his pants pocket, he watched Jing Hong leisurely for a moment. Then, he suddenly curled his lips into a smirk, looked straight at Jing Hong, raised his glass in a gesture, and mouthed the word: “Cheers.”

An elegant, deliberate, “Cheers.”

Without knowing why, the instant he saw Zhou Chang’s gesture, Jing Hong understood everything: He and Panhai had been played.

Cheers? Celebrating? Celebrating what? Celebrating the merger between Kunpeng, invested in by Panhai, and Huawei, invested in by Qinghui, of course—just yesterday, all parties had officially signed the merger documents.

Zhou Chang actively raising his glass at this moment could not possibly be out of goodwill.

So, for Huawei, pouring all their efforts into developing the key project Panhai Group currently had underway was entirely an act, a total sham. The sole purpose was to make Jing Hong—anxious to stop Huawei from developing a product identical to Panhai’s—rush into pushing for the merger of Kunpeng and Huawei, rush into taking control of the new company as a major shareholder, and directly shut down that project Huawei was pretending to work on. For that, Jing Hong had even been willing to concede the CEO position to the other side.

In truth, Huawei had never actually been developing that “AI Loan” financial project. Everything was fake, everything was just for show—all designed to make Panhai think they were developing it.

What Jing Hong found somewhat terrifying was that Zhou Chang had begun setting up this trap at least half a year ago, even before President Shen from Goldman Sachs brought the investors from both sides to the negotiation table. They had posted relevant job recruitment ads, conducted expert training sessions, and…

Could it be that from back then, Zhou Chang already foresaw that Kunpeng and Huawei might merge, and that the two of them might end up at a deadlock over the CEO position?

Indeed, Jing Hong thought: If I could think of it, how could Zhou Chang not? It was just that I hadn’t started laying down my pieces that early. Because back then, Zhou Chang still looked like an incompetent fraud.

Jing Hong thought of the Huawei employee who came for the job interview, the Huawei employee on LinkedIn claiming to be managing facial recognition for a new product, the Huawei employee who answered his assistant’s questions so earnestly, and… He couldn’t help but think: The entire company deserves an Oscar.

The CEO of Panhai Entertainment often mentioned the “regression of acting skills,” but Jing Hong thought: Where has it regressed? Aren’t there talented method actors everywhere you look inside Huawei? And who says China lacks good directors? Isn’t Zhou Chang right here?

In this round, he had lost.

Seeing Zhou Chang standing there with a smile playing at the corners of his lips, seemingly still waiting for his response to that “cheers,” Jing Hong turned his neck away, withdrew his gaze, and looked toward another part of the tea break hall, thinking to himself: Fuck you.