Fanhai was caught in a cascading series of crises—getting shorted by Wall Street, investigated by the SEC, dumped by major shareholders, tangled in Weilai’s “sudden shift in accounting standards,” and embroiling itself in a dispute with Tianping Supermarket… One wave had barely subsided before another crested. These crises were intricately linked, impacting one another like a falling line of dominoes; if one piece toppled, the entire structure risked collapsing. Resolving such a deadlock required high-level strategic brilliance.

On the fourth day of the short-selling onslaught, Reuters interviewed Zhou Chang of Qinghui Group to get his perspective on Fanhai’s situation.

The interview took place in Zhou Chang’s office and was conducted in Mandarin. Zhou Chang rarely accepted media interviews—even when he first took the helm at Qinghui, he kept a remarkably low profile. In this regard, he differed greatly from Jing Hong. Thus, this sit-down was exceptional. While Jing Hong also avoided frequent press appearances now, two years ago, when he needed to consolidate his standing and establish himself as the new symbol of Fanhai Group, he had been far more willing to engage with the press.

The Reuters journalist opened with standard inquiries about Qinghui: how Zhou Chang interpreted claims that Qinghui Group was “turning into an investment bank” or “investing to secure the future”; his response to views that its core business was coming under regulatory pressure; whether minor-protection age restrictions in gaming were genuinely enforced or merely pragmatic compromises; current challenges and future strategic directions; the reasoning behind Qinghui’s organizational restructuring over the past year; major shifts in the Chinese market over the last two years; the division of management functions between the CEO, the Executive Committee, and lower-tier divisions; and whether the Executive Committee made decisions by formal vote.

Zhou Chang addressed each question methodically. His answers were relaxed yet professional, seamless and sprinkled with occasional wit. He noted that in helping entrepreneurs, Qinghui usually sought minority equity stakes rather than operational control; that Qinghui complied with regulatory requirements to foster a healthier industry environment; that minors lacked self-control when it came to gaming, leading Qinghui to implement extensive safeguards; that the post-85 generation was inheriting social wealth with far more open consumption habits; that the Executive Committee met weekly to address overarching strategy; and that the committee never relied on voting, but rather operated on consensus—engaging in open deliberation because Qinghui Group never assumed that the majority was inherently correct.

Finally, the interviewer turned to Fanhai’s ongoing crisis: “Mr. Zhou, a few days ago, the head of ‘Greyhawk Fund’—the world’s largest hedge fund—publicly stated that ‘now is a prime opportunity to short Fanhai,’ raising several issues and disclosing that he was shorting Fanhai himself, increasing his short position to around 20% of his portfolio. His comments triggered a massive market response, driving short interest in Fanhai Group to a record high. What is your take on this?”

“What’s wrong with shorting Fanhai?” Zhou Chang asked, a playful look in his eyes. “It hasn’t cost Jing Hong a single hair on his head.”

“…” The journalist pressed on: “However, the following day, several funds that had heavily subscribed during Fanhai’s IPO also reduced their holdings in Fanhai stock. Doesn’t this signal that the market is losing confidence? Do you have any thoughts on this?”

“My thoughts?” To the reporter’s surprise, Zhou Chang leaned back, crossed his long legs, interlaced his fingers, and remarked with a touch of dry irony: “It just goes to show how fragile modern friendships are—the ship of friendship capsizes at the slightest breeze.”

“…” The reporter asked carefully, “Could you elaborate on what you mean by ‘the ship of friendship capsizes at the slightest breeze’?”

Zhou Chang replied: “I’d say everyone ought to keep a close eye on those so-called ‘friends’ going forward.”

His comment carried subtle pressure. In pure business terms, reducing exposure to hedge against risk during a corporate crisis was standard practice. However, dumping Fanhai stock without even waiting to hear Fanhai’s official response—effectively stabbing them while they were down—was hardly a honorable move. Zhou Chang was subtly signaling pressure to other hedge funds thinking of joining the fray.

“So,” the reporter continued, “do you believe the doubts and allegations against Fanhai are completely baseless? Even funds with exceptional track records, such as Soros’s Quantum Fund, have trimmed their positions in Fanhai Group.”

Upon hearing this, Zhou Chang replied calmly, “Soros has gone senile.”

The article was published shortly after.

Financial bloggers immediately weighed in on the interview with a flurry of posts:

[Capital Moth]:Zhou Chang interviewed today regarding the Fanhai shorting incident—bought yesterday, sold today: “The ship of friendship capsizes at the slightest breeze!”

[Finance Little Wang]:Zhou Chang interviewed today, coming out in strong support of Fanhai Group—”Soros has gone senile!”

The comment sections exploded with diverse responses:

• Don’t Beat the Client: “Why is Qinghui suddenly standing up for Fanhai?”
• Slacking Today, Tomorrow, and the Day After: “So bizarre. I looked twice and it’s still bizarre.”
• Jinjiang Anti-Vice Squad Leader: “It makes sense in a way. Chinese tech giants rise and fall together. Though damn, it’s still weird as hell.”
• Cilantro Is Delicious: “Did I slip into a parallel universe? Everything around me feels surreal…”
• Account Suspended for Gender Stoking: “Hedge funds are shorting the broader Chinese economy. Qinghui showing solidarity with Fanhai at a time like this shows true vision and stature.”
• Impotence Anxiety: “Nice! Call them out! You can’t just dump stocks whenever you feel like pulling a fast one!”

Jing Hong had not seen these posts yet, nor was he aware of Zhou Chang’s public remarks. When the article broke, he was holding his phone, looking at his chat history with Zhou Chang, hesitating.

He had been mulling over an idea for a long time—one that held immense strategic value for both Fanhai and Qinghui. The current situation offered an ideal window to push it forward, though Jing Hong was uncertain where Qinghui stood on the matter.

Would Zhou Chang agree?

Although Qinghui stood to gain significant benefits as well, they were in no hurry. Entering a partnership right now was equivalent to extending a helping hand to pull Fanhai through its immediate crisis. In competitive business dynamics, the conventional play was to kick a rival while they were down—just as Weilai had done, and just as Jing Tianping was attempting now.

After a moment’s consideration, Jing Hong typed out a brief text to Zhou Chang:

There’s something I’ve been mulling over for quite a while now. It has nothing to do with the current short-selling situation.

Almost simultaneously, a message popped up from Zhou Chang, containing practically the exact same sentiment:

There’s something I’ve been thinking about for quite a while now.

“…” Jing Hong sent a brief four-character voice note to double-check. Zhou Chang confirmed his suspicions, letting Jing Hong know they were thinking of the exact same matter. He followed up: Are you free tomorrow, Mr. Zhou? Shall we bring a few team members from each side for a discussion?

Zhou Chang glanced over his packed schedule and replied: I’m free.

Specific time? Do you have a preferred time slot?

Zhou Chang answered: Any time.

Jing Hong paused to think before replying: I need to travel out of Beijing during the day and won’t be back until 6:30 PM. How about 8:00 PM tomorrow evening? No dinner, just straight to business.

Zhou Chang agreed: Sounds good. I’ll arrange the location on my end and notify you shortly.

Thanks, Jing Hong added. Apologies for the tight schedule. Let’s brief our respective teams tonight and handle the prep work.

Of course, Zhou Chang replied. It’s a mutually beneficial partnership. No need for apologies.

Alright.

Jing Hong, just as Jing Hong was about to exit the app, Zhou Chang sent another unexpected message: You’re getting back at 6:30 PM tomorrow and negotiating at 8:00 PM. Don’t skip dinner—make sure you grab a bite in between.

“…” Jing Hong typed back a single word: Okay.

With that, the conversation wrapped up. A major strategic deal capable of sending shockwaves through the industry was settled with remarkable simplicity.

Holding his phone, Jing Hong sat stunned for a brief moment—a rare reaction for him.

Exiting his chat with Zhou Chang, Jing Hong noticed the executive group chat had over 99 unread messages. Intuiting what had happened, he tapped his screen and quickly scrolled upward until he found a link shared by an executive: Reuters’ exclusive interview with Zhou Chang.

Because Zhou Chang rarely gave interviews, this rare profile had been reposted across platforms and was being subjected to intense analysis, with the section concerning Fanhai drawing the most attention.

Jing Hong read through the transcript in silence, lingering over certain passages word for word. Known for his thoroughness, he sent another message to Zhou Chang after finishing:

Apologies, I just saw the interview transcript. Thank you for speaking up for us, Mr. Zhou.

Jing Hong felt a subtle, complex emotion. In the midst of this chaotic storm, the ones kicking him while he was down were Weilai’s CEO—who always positioned himself as a seasoned mentor offering “professional guidance”—and his own blood relative, Jing Tianping. Yet the person who stepped up and extended a hand in public was Zhou Chang.

It was actually Zhou Chang.

An outcome he had never anticipated.

He felt profound disappointment toward Jing Tianping and Li Zhiyong.

Zhou Chang responded quickly, his voice low over the audio message: “Interesting. Just a plain ‘thank you’? No other words?”

Jing Hong looked at the screen, an involuntary smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He pressed the mic and replied with deliberate theatricality: “Allow me to express my deepest gratitude for Mr. Zhou’s profoundly accessible, approachable, amiable, gracious, high-minded, far-sighted, resourceful, deeply considered, warm, enthusiastic, concise, inspiring, orderly, persuasive, thought-provoking, and deafeningly insightful words of justice. Will that do?”

After a pause, Zhou Chang’s voice came back, laced with amusement and relaxed ease: “That’ll do. You’re certainly a man of culture, Mr. Jing—clearly a frequent viewer of the evening news.”

Jing Hong’s smile broadened slightly: “No need to watch the news for that. I picked all of that up long ago in corporate meetings.”

“Fair enough,” Zhou Chang chuckled softly. “You’ve always been lively and clever, Mr. Jing.”

Jing Hong caught the reference immediately: “That’s the Smurfs song.”

Zhou Chang let out a low laugh.

Jing Hong’s mood brightened considerably. He set his phone down, locked the screen, and began browsing through various media analyses of Zhou Chang’s interview.

One Shanghai-based financial blogger, perhaps out of local pride as an industry insider from Asia’s premier financial hub, had even translated Zhou Chang’s Beijing dialect into Shanghainese:

[Shanghai Financial Beauty]:

Zhou Chang’s exclusive with Reuters: “Soros has lost his damn mind!”