In January, the weather turned chilly.

Some time had passed since that bitter parting with Zhou Chang. Jing Hong forced himself to stop recalling that night—and even that name—though, as the CEO of Fanhai, that was naturally impossible.

Fortunately, Jing Hong was still able to remain professional.

On this day, Jing Hong first addressed a few business-related issues.

The “AI Loan” product had already been launched into the financial market, but the market response fell short of expectations.

Jing Hong was never one to doubt himself easily. He flipped through the calendar and said to the President of the Artificial Intelligence Business Group, “Let’s say Monday—I’ll fly to Shanghai in person to boost the team’s morale.”

The other party froze for a moment and asked, “Will you be visiting the project team in person?”

Jing Hong nodded: “Yes.”

Part of the Artificial Intelligence Business Group was based in Beijing and part in Shanghai, a setup designed to recruit talent from both the North and the South. The project team for the “AI Loan” product happened to be located in Shanghai.

The project teams that Jing Hong visited in person could be counted on one’s fingers—let alone one whose team was located out of town. This would be the only instance this year.

A personal visit from the CEO was the ultimate vote of confidence for a project.

“Also,” Jing Hong added, “this product needs improvement. From now on… have the person in charge of this product report directly to me.”

“Report to you?” The President of the AI Business Group was thoroughly taken aback. “But he… is eleven levels below you…”

The current head of the project was a Vice President (VP). Above him were Senior Vice Presidents (SVP) and Senior Executive Vice Presidents (SEVP). Furthermore, within each title at Fanhai Group, there were several sub-grades—usually three. For instance, managers were divided into M1, M2, and M3, and senior managers were similarly split into three tiers. Otherwise, if a senior manager couldn’t get promoted to director, he or she would lose their drive. Getting promoted to director relied not just on personal ability, but also on timing and opportunity—if a particular direction was thriving, the department would continuously expand, form new teams, and appoint new directors; but if not, and the existing director didn’t leave, capable individuals might never get a chance. In such cases, internal grade promotions within the “Senior Manager” title became extremely important, as people always needed a goal to strive for.

“It’s fine,” Jing Hong said. “I will oversee this product myself.” When it came to artificial intelligence, Jing Hong possessed a sharp and discerning eye, as everyone well knew.

“…Alright.”

The President of the Business Group didn’t feel his own abilities were being questioned—Jing Hong attached such great importance to “AI Loan” that he was said to have relinquished even the CEO position at “Kunpeng Huawei” last year. Now that the product was underperforming, Jing Hong himself lost face. The fact that Jing Hong wasn’t flying into a rage or holding people accountable right now was already a good outcome.

After a moment, Jing Hong added, “After the revisions, if the subsequent promotional activities for this product require me to personally endorse it on stage, I can do that as well.”

“…Alright.”

Products that could get Jing Hong to personally stand on stage to endorse them were extremely rare, though occasional exceptions existed. If Jing Hong endorsed it himself, it meant the product was deemed immensely important. For the sake of Fanhai, Jing Hong had always been extraordinarily dedicated.

Afterward, Jing Hong joined Zhao Hanqing to make a video call to “Feichi Motors,” a company in which they had invested, inquiring about the R&D progress of the new-generation Feichi vehicle and whether they required any support.

Unlike ordinary investors, for Fanhai Group’s more important investment targets, Jing Hong provided not just funding, but active support as well.

Investment targets at other companies were hardly ever personally overseen by a big boss of Jing Hong’s stature. Consequently, “support” from those other companies required going through much longer approval processes, inevitably giving rise to more issues.

Jing Hong would also listen to the other party’s difficulties and offer his own guidance. Over the past two years, as several of those companies grew larger, their founders often developed the habit of saying, “If President Jing encountered this problem, he would definitely…” leaving others thoroughly mystified, asking, “Why do you bring up ‘President Jing’ every time you speak?” At that point, they would explain that President Jing used to help them analyze problems, so their mindset was patterned after President Jing’s. They also mentioned that during the early stages of their startups, they often felt their ideas were fully fleshed out, yet Jing Hong could always point out the flaws in just two or three sentences. Every time, they would feel the urge to rush back and rework their proposals. Over time, it became second nature for them to try thinking through problems using “Jing Hong’s” framework.

In short, Jing Hong was using his own time and capability to forge the future of Fanhai Group.

By the afternoon, Jing Hong unexpectedly encountered a non-business-related issue.

And it was even somewhat connected to Qinghui Group.

Jiang Rengui, the new head of Fanhai Group’s Cloud Computing Department, came to find Jing Hong and brought up a matter.

The moment he saw him, Jing Hong couldn’t help but recall the chapter where Fanhai and Qinghui had simultaneously replaced the heads of their cloud computing departments with figures from the “sales faction.”

Jiang Rengui had come to power during that very shift; employees in cloud computing jokingly called him “Consort Jiang,” teasing that their boss was currently in Jing Hong’s high favor.

“President Jing, there’s a certain matter…” Jiang Rengui looked extremely perplexed as he spoke, “Chief Yu from the Public Information Network Security Supervision Division of the Public Security Bureau came to us a few days ago…”

Hearing this, even Jing Hong felt perplexed. He asked, “Public Information Network Security…?”

“Yes,” Jiang Rengui said. “Word is that Qinghui’s cloud computing side is being investigated by the Network Security Division of the Municipal Public Security Bureau.”

Jing Hong’s brows knit together slightly as he waited for the other party to elaborate.

Jiang Rengui continued: “It seems that several companies jointly filed a police report, claiming their company computers were breached, files were stolen, and information was leaked. They even found malware on their computers that collects data. These companies are long-term clients of Qinghui’s cloud services, and they suspect Qinghui Group of secretly installing spyware to collect additional information… through the cloud. Qinghui Group has its own ADS and WAF services, but perhaps those very tools were collecting and sending data themselves?”

Jing Hong: “…”

Zhou Chang immediately crossed his mind.

Was it Zhou Chang’s personal idea?

The first instinct in Jing Hong’s mind was to deny it. He felt Zhou Chang wouldn’t do such a thing. Perhaps it had nothing to do with Qinghui Group, or perhaps it had nothing to do with Zhou Chang specifically, but was instead a crime committed by subordinates.

Yet very quickly, Jing Hong felt startled by his own denial.

Did he truly understand Zhou Chang?

Jing Haiping often said, “That Zhou Chang is an exact carbon copy of his father.” Could it be that they really were identical?

Jing Hong raised his eyes and asked, “Does it have anything to do with Fanhai?”

That was the key point.

“Well,” Jiang Rengui said, “because this matter is highly specialized, the Network Security Division wants to organize an ‘Expert Demonstration Meeting’—basically inviting other companies in the industry to study and discuss together whether those spyware programs came from Qinghui. Jason has already gone over. Almost all the major players in the industry who handle cloud security have sent people over.”

Cloud-based detection and removal services were indeed quite specialized. Traditional antivirus software required downloading and updating virus databases daily, occupying computer storage and user time; getting a new virus “cataloged” usually took two to three days, making the efficiency very slow. Cloud-based detection and removal services, however, were different. Cloud computing could monitor the entire network, obtaining, analyzing, and handling new viruses in real time, or even directly intercepting them within the cloud. Fanhai had a similar business line as well.

Yet Jing Hong grew confused again and asked, “And then?”

Jiang Rengui was also somewhat puzzled as he answered Jing Hong: “Jason analyzed it for several days and feels it’s actually quite difficult to draw the conclusion that ‘the plugin came from Qinghui’… but strangely, Chief Zheng of the Network Security Division seems set on pinning this matter down on them…? The Network Security Division is the direct authority, holding immense power over the life and death of IT companies. The other IT companies all seem to have read the room, issuing reports that are rather unfavorable to Qinghui Group… After all, they were competitors to begin with. Jason doesn’t know what he should do now. I figured I’d better ask for your take, President Jing.”

Jing Hong: “…”

This was the key point—the “mastermind” had ultimately pointed back to him.

Was it another frame-up?

In the business world, such frame-ups emerged endlessly.

The low-brow ones even went so far as to post explicit images on the rival company’s educational app, followed by public exposure and official reports.

Chief Zheng himself didn’t want to shoulder the responsibility, so he pulled in one, two, three, four of Qinghui’s competitors to analyze the virus and issue reports.

And what about those competitors who were dragged in? Subjectively, they wanted to attack Qinghui Group; objectively, they wanted to curry favor with the Chief of the Network Security Division. So, they closed their eyes and churned out those reports.

If anyone were held accountable later, everyone could simply claim they didn’t know how to conduct network security checks or expert appraisals—that crossing into another field was like crossing a mountain, making it a matter of competence rather than attitude. In the end, no one would face real consequences, leaving behind nothing but a muddy, tangled mess.

Jiang Rengui was still trying to explain the situation, saying: “It’s unclear how far Chief Zheng intends to push this. Deputy Chief Nan actually feels it’s not that severe, but Chief Zheng insists on prosecuting it. It’s hard to say whether the final outcome will be a warning conversation, a public announcement and exposure, or… in the worst-case scenario, taking the path of criminal liability. I asked the legal department, and this conduct might violate Article 286 of the Criminal Law, ‘Crime of Destroying Computer Information Systems,’ but it’s uncertain whether the evidence is admissible or sufficient.”

Jing Hong once again: “…”

Jiang Rengui asked tentatively: “President Jing, so…?”

By now, Jing Hong understood. He said, “Report it as it is. If that conclusion cannot be drawn, then it cannot be drawn.”

“Alright.” Jiang Rengui visibly breathed a sigh of relief. “Then, regarding the pressure from the Network Security Division…”

“Give Jason your instructions,” Jing Hong said. “Tell him to be tactful. If there’s real pressure, I’ll shoulder it from my end. No need to worry.”

“Alright.” However, right before leaving, Jiang Rengui confirmed once more, “President Jing, security issues are the biggest pain point in cloud computing, as you know. If Qinghui gets pinned down this time and things blow up, Fanhai will overtake Qinghui in this segment. In previous years, when it came to cloud computing… no matter what we did, Fanhai couldn’t secure the top spot. Not only were we unable to reach number one, but there was also a considerable gap. But if Qinghui gets embroiled in a scandal like this, they will definitely lose trust and suffer a precipitous fall.”

“I know.” Jing Hong lifted his eyelids and cast a glance at him. “But Fanhai and Qinghui are the IT companies with the best technology in all of China. What we need is healthy competition, not malicious competition.”

Under healthy competition, the underlying technology as a whole would advance and the entire industry would flourish; whereas the result of malicious competition could only be a superficial capture of the market and a hollow piling up of wealth. Jing Hong’s vision would never be restricted to such narrow gains.

The cloud was yet another vital battlefield. Enterprise information was entirely hosted on “the cloud,” and cloud service providers held all the data. Yet compared to giants like Amazon, Microsoft, or even Google, China’s cloud computing technology still lagged behind by a considerable margin. Could Chinese enterprises’ various data be stored entirely with international giants? The answer was obviously negative.

Furthermore, crushing Qinghui through such means was unfair to Qinghui.

In Jing Hong’s position, speaking of “fairness” might sound absurd, but “unfairness” was indeed the thing Jing Hong loathed the most—without exception.

In front of a certain friend, Jing Hong had always harbored an “embarrassing story”—once back in kindergarten, Jing Hong, that friend, and that friend’s father were playing Chinese checkers together. At the time, the friend’s father was making his own moves while simultaneously directing his child’s pieces, using his own pieces to build a bridge so that his child could win the game first. Jing Hong, who was not even five years old at the time, burst into tears because of this. In the remaining years that followed, every time that friend’s father saw Jing Hong, he would say, “Jing Hong, when you were little, you even cried because you lost a game of checkers!” It was constantly treated as a clumsy moment for Jing Hong, who had grown into a remarkably composed individual by his teens. Only later did Jing Hong understand that his reaction back then was not because he lost the game, but because he faintly sensed “unfairness”—in reality, the opponent had twice as many pieces as he did, yet winning required only half of them to enter the home territory; that was unfair.

It was the same afterward. In primary school, during the school-wide selection for “Outstanding Student,” there were several official criteria on paper, and Jing Hong ranked first in every single one. Yet the person ultimately selected was not Jing Hong, but the son of a certain official. Jing Hong was very disheartened at the time, but his parents and friends didn’t understand, asking, “Isn’t it just a silly award? What difference does it make whether you get it or not?” Only later did Jing Hong realize that he wasn’t sad about not receiving the award, but about the unfairness directed at him.

Still later, after reaching adulthood, Jing Hong finally gained the ability to protect himself—and even began to protect others. During his fourth year of his Ph.D. program, a younger female student from a rural area in a certain province sought Jing Hong’s help. She explained that she had previously completed her master’s at Tsinghua University and should have been eligible to transfer some credits to Stanford, but the department refused to recognize Chinese universities, strictly requiring her to take an extra course instead—and a single course at Stanford cost at least several thousand dollars. At that time, Jing Hong gathered evidence of students from various countries successfully transferring credits, including those from African nations. Simultaneously, he discovered that years ago, Chinese universities were treated the same way, until later when the number of Chinese students grew, and the department, wanting to make money, instituted the ban. Since the younger student’s English wasn’t very good, Jing Hong exchanged dozens of emails back and forth with various department leaders on her behalf, arguing that this was “unfair” to Chinese students. His tone was polite, yet his attitude was unyielding. In the end, the department finally surrendered, and that younger student became a legend—the only Chinese student in ten years to successfully transfer credits.

Now, many years had passed, and Jing Hong still detested that word—”unfair.”

Yes, “detested.”

If his skills fell short of others, he would learn; Jing Hong had no interest in playing underhanded tricks.

His thoughts returned.

Jiang Rengui asked Jing Hong again: “Then, regarding the ‘Cloud Education’ product, we should still launch it as soon as possible to beat Qinghui to the punch, right?”

Jing Hong said, “Of course. Hand it to Maurice’s team.”

“Understood,” Jiang Rengui summarized Jing Hong’s stance. “For the Cloud Education product, we must beat Qinghui to it and land a heavy blow on them; but for the ‘task’ from the Network Security Division, we will withstand the pressure, present things as they are, and state that no such conclusion can be drawn if it can’t be—thereby helping Qinghui out this once.”

“Yes.” Jing Hong nodded and said, “They are two separate matters.”