A few days later, another utterly shocking event erupted across the internet.

Li Zhiyong, the CEO of Weilai, had been taken away by the authorities.

In truth, back in mid-December, Jing Hong and Zhou Chang had already caught wind of rumors that he was “taken away.” At first, the entire industry paid little mind to it—after all, he was the head of Weilai and had been investigated for two weeks by the Ministry of Public Security several years prior over multiple charges, only to walk away unscathed due to insufficient evidence. Recently, however, the word reaching Jing Hong and Zhou Chang was that the investigation into Li Zhiyong had never actually been dropped; he had been under secret investigation for all these years.

Naturally, Li Zhiyong himself remained entirely oblivious to this. Over the past two years, as Fanhai and Qinghui were handed over to the “second generation,” with Jing Hong and Zhou Chang being so young, and Peng Zheng maintaining his trademark humble, cautious, and circumspect nature, Li Zhiyong seemed to view himself as bearing a unique mantle of responsibility. He grew increasingly arrogant, adopting the posture of the internet sector’s sole remaining senior patriarch.

First, he “formed cliques” by founding an organization called the “China Alliance,” rounding up a group of Chinese entrepreneurs—ranging from veteran figures to emerging founders—and regularly organizing various events. On one occasion, someone in the chat group found it so sickeningly eye-searing that they anonymously leaked snippets of the group chat online. It was filled with nothing but blatant, sycophantic flattery that made one’s face burn, yet Li Zhiyong reveled in it. Of course, Jing Hong later heard that after he and Zhou Chang demonstrated their formidable strength, the bootlicking within that group had diminished significantly over the past year or two.

Second, because Weilai was the only company among the Tech Four headquartered in Shenzhen, making it vital to the city’s tax revenue and economic standing, he reportedly went so far as to meddle in the hiring and appointment of certain positions within the Shenzhen Telecommunications Bureau, directly interfering with public administration.

This year, during a speech at a forum, Li Zhiyong had openly criticized a certain regulatory policy in front of an audience of over a thousand people, delivering remarks that practically called on everyone to unite in opposition against it.

On top of that, Li Zhiyong had purchased a parcel of land in London to build a massive luxury villa, the outline of which was already taking shape—resembling the White House in appearance.

It was said that the authorities finally lost all patience, accelerating the pace of the investigation.

Jing Hong also learned that the probe into Weilai actually involved multiple regulatory bodies—the Cyberspace Administration, the Ministry of Public Security, the State Taxation Administration… and even the Ministry of State Security.

Supposedly, while investigating Weilai’s financial irregularities, the group was also discovered to have violated the Cybersecurity Law.

Jing Hong’s intelligence was spot-on. He felt at the time that the news of Li Zhiyong being taken away by the police was likely true, and that Weilai was bound to face severe penalties.

By early January, the news was finally confirmed—the Shenzhen Municipal Public Security Bureau verified that Li Zhiyong was under police investigation on suspicion of economic crimes. The rumors were validated; the dust had settled.

The following day, Weilai Group issued an official announcement stating that Li Zhiyong and two other senior executives were currently under police investigation. The former CTO, Mr. Liu Ying, was appointed acting Chairman of the Board, and Weilai had established a special action committee to closely monitor the impact of this incident on the company’s operations.

Regarding Li Zhiyong being taken away this time, “knowledgeable sources” leaked that the charges involved insider trading, disclosure of inside information, corporate bribery, along with several other counts.

The first two charges stemmed from the period between 2001 and 2010, when his firm “Fuding Capital” speculated on stock prices and manipulated the market. Several stocks aggressively bought up by Fuding Capital during those years exhibited blatant and abnormal fluctuations, driven by bold, seasoned, and ruthless tactics. Later, the chairman of one of those target companies even landed in prison.

As for the charge of “corporate bribery,” according to rumors, it was linked to the recent downfall of a certain director of the Internet Monitoring Division, who had been placed under double regulation (shuanggui) and transferred to the judicial authorities a few months prior. Thereafter, the case unspooled in a chain reaction like a nail-biting thriller—over ten individuals were confirmed to have been taken away in the span of a few months, even implicating a retired former Ministry of Commerce official who had assisted Weilai with its initial public offering years ago.

Word had it that “Director Zheng” of the Internet Monitoring Division was the breakthrough point for this entire bust.

Following a certain symposium, a direct official overseeing major IT enterprises like Fanhai, Qinghui, Xingyuan, and Weilai spoke regarding the “Weilai Incident,” saying: “It is deeply agonizing, but there was no alternative. If these people are not put behind bars, the damage to the entire internet industry would be far more catastrophic.”

Following the scandal surrounding Weilai, a flood of “insider leaks” swept across the internet:

[Discovering New Idiots Anytime Anywhere]: I’m a former HR at Weilai, let me leak a few things!!! [Smile][Smile][Smile] First off, the warehouse workers at Weilai are fitted with location trackers! How long you’ve worked, how long you’ve stood or sat around resting, how long you took to pee, how long you took to take a dump—it’s all calculated down to the minute! The bottom 5% are eliminated every month! AI-driven automated layoffs! Good grief, is this what AI technology is meant for?! To avoid being “eliminated,” the workers all wear adult diapers!!! Actual diapers!!! And to cut down on bathroom time and squeeze out more working hours, workers don’t eat lunch! Just think about that—working a full day in a warehouse without lunch!!! A person’s body will break down like that.

[#1 Meal Eater in Kindergarten]: I’m a former HR at Weilai too! I literally couldn’t take it anymore and quit. Also, also—to cut costs, Weilai’s warehouses at ports in Shanghai, Guangzhou, and other cities don’t have air conditioning. Just imagine a summer in Shanghai or Guangzhou… People pass out from heatstroke every single day. An ambulance is permanently parked outside Weilai Group’s warehouse doors—they’d rather partner with a private hospital to rent an ambulance than install air conditioning…

[Discovering New Idiots Anytime Anywhere]: Also, also—Weilai’s financial reports have been getting worse year after year, right? The investors were furious. Our department once drafted a “cost-saving” proposal, and guess what happened in the end? Hahaha, all the measures targeting the rank-and-file—like secretly reducing promotion quotas, secretly downgrading employee health insurance, secretly degrading cafeteria food, cutting holiday gifts, cutting project bonuses… were implemented without exception! Meanwhile, all 16 clauses targeting senior executives—like removing housing subsidies, reducing 5 days of paid annual leave to unpaid leave—were rejected flat out. Not a single one was implemented, hahahahahahaha!

[#1 Meal Eater in Kindergarten]: Oh, oh, oh! Right, right—last year they let go of a complete idiot, an actual idiot, and gave him a 20,000,000 RMB severance package! [Smile][Smile][Smile] Who knows what that was all about.

[The Quietest Person in the Whole World Hahahahaha]: I’m a Weilai employee too, but I’m an engineer [Crying][Crying][Crying]. Honestly, working at Weilai for three years has completely wrecked my health. I’m planning to quit by the end of the year and leave this garbage company [Crying][Crying][Crying]. Working as a maternity nurse would be better than this. Endless swarms of kick-off meetings, review meetings, retrospective meetings, never-ending daily, weekly, monthly, and bi-monthly reports. Every other breath is about aligning OKRs, aligning this, syncing that. I end up in the hospital every few days. The moment the doctor hears where I work, their face fills with infinite pity: “Weilai, huh? Well, your health is actually considered pretty good then”… Even the doctors pity us! The young girl sitting next to me got white hair after working here for just six weeks…

[Milky Way Galaxy Leader]: Replying to @The Quietest Person in the Whole World Hahahahaha: What is a kick-off meeting? What is an OKR? What does “aligning” mean?

[The Quietest Person in the Whole World Hahahahaha]: Replying to @Milky Way Galaxy Leader: You don’t know, do you? It’s internet giant jargon. In the past, only criminal triads used secret slang; now the internet tech giants have their own jargon.

[Wake Up Naive Girl]: Do you know what the most twisted part is? The company culture itself is sick! Every single person is a drama queen! The moment I mention getting sick, colleagues swarm into the group chat competing to post: “I’ve had that illness too! You can see Doctor XX at XX Hospital”… as if failing to fall sick proved you weren’t working hard enough!!

[Tangerine Cat Smiling Face]: Sexual harassment at Weilai is also exceptionally severe and rampant… because the company doesn’t care at all and actively protects those who commit sexual harassment.

[Jinjiang Ultimate Alpha]: Yes, I was sexually harassed before too, and the company HR didn’t give a damn. PS: My ID is Jinjiang Ultimate Alpha, but I’m actually a young girl.

[#1 on the Overtime Worker Leaderboard]: Also, did you guys know? I only found out the other day that every single manager in our entire department uses a fake name! It’s so freaking surreal! Whether it’s their company alias or the “real name” spoken in private, it’s all fake! I only learned my boss’s actual name after he got arrested… because every single one of them joined Weilai in violation of non-compete agreements!

Netizens were left utterly dumbfounded by what they read.

[Do Not Beat Up Clients]: Good grief, what kind of 21st-century landlord exploiter is this… Even Zhou the Landlord from the textbooks would hang his head in shame…

[King of the Naive and Sweet]: Mind-blowing… I’m completely speechless… I really am naive and sweet after all.

Following Li Zhiyong’s arrest, wild rumors began to swirl relentlessly.

For instance, many alleged that state-owned capital was preparing to step in and take over Weilai. The recent frantic crash in Weilai Group’s stock price was attributed not only to the scandals, but also to official market suppression meant to drive the stock price down to rock bottom, allowing state capital to step in as Weilai Group’s largest shareholder.

Fueling these rumors, Weilai’s future turned murky and uncertain, prompting the top executives to go completely idle—leaving the office on the dot every day, or casually scheduling a few overseas meetings as an excuse to go sightseeing.

In the past, Weilai’s top brass faced immense pressure, required to deliver concrete performance figures every quarter. Now, they washed their hands of it entirely.

Of course, Weilai’s rank-and-file employees were still grinding away under the 996—or even 007—schedule, no different than before. Working themselves to the bone, they had no idea that the executive suite had completely checked out.

Jing Hong was skeptical of such rumors. To his mind, things had not escalated to the point of a “state capital takeover.”

Then one day, for reasons unknown, another rumor surfaced.

This one claimed that the mastermind behind the Weilai incident was none other than Zhou Chang.

Supposedly, Zhou Chang had instructed a Qinghui vice president to file a report with the police, seeking retribution for the cloud computing framing incident against Qinghui the previous year.

“…”

Seeing the news, Jing Hong sat at his desk, his fingertips tapping rhythmically against the surface in deep thought for a long while. Finally, he pushed back his chair and walked downstairs.

He strolled up to the side of the kitchen counter where Zhou Chang was cutting fruit, leaned lightly against the counter, and asked quietly, “Is it true?”

Zhou Chang hadn’t paid much attention initially, tossing out a casual tone: “Hmm?”

“The Weilai matter,” Jing Hong said. “Word is going around that you, Little President Zhou, instructed one of your vice presidents to file a police report.”

“…”

Zhou Chang set down his knife, turned around, and looked at Jing Hong. After a long pause, he finally gave a slight nod.

“The matter with Qinghui was one thing,” Zhou Chang said, placing the sliced oranges onto a plate. “But later, he aggressively hyped up the SEC investigation into Fanhai Group and suddenly altered their auditing model… it was endless. He can reflect on things once he’s inside.”

“That Director Zheng,” Zhou Chang clearly possessed more granular details. “He accepted a total of 6 million RMB for orchestrating the trap against Qinghui. The bribery was primarily disguised through fake contracts—Li Zhiyong ‘purchased’ antique furniture from Director Zheng, paying hundreds of thousands for a single table, playing smart. However, while Director Zheng was the breakthrough point, Qinghui Group’s report wasn’t actually the most critical element; that money trail was hidden quite cleverly. It was another bribe Director Zheng received years ago that proved paramount—that company has already collapsed, and the paper trail for that transaction was full of holes.”

Jing Hong nodded.

“Li Zhiyong,” Zhou Chang continued, “committed his earliest act of bribery back in 2007 during an acquisition. The announcement had already been published, but the deal was suddenly slapped with an anti-monopoly review. The review would have taken a long time, and the Hong Kong-listed target company could easily have sought another buyer. Li Zhiyong paid a bribe of 2 million RMB to urge the anti-monopoly investigation office to expedite the process, because that acquisition was vital to Weilai at the time. Once that floodgate was opened and he tasted the sweetness of it, he couldn’t stop.”

Jing Hong nodded once more.

“Alright,” Zhou Chang pressed his hand against the counter, eyeing Jing Hong. “What’s wrong, Little President Jing? Disapprove of my methods? Worried about Weilai’s tens of thousands of employees?”

Jing Hong shook his head. “When have I ever been that soft-hearted? I’m just… worried about you.”

“Worried about me for what?” Zhou Chang smiled. “Li Zhiyong is behind bars, and his wife has fled abroad. What’s there to worry about?”

“…” Jing Hong said, “Still, be careful. Promise me.”

Zhou Chang gazed at Jing Hong in silence. After a long pause, he finally nodded: “Alright.”

For the next two weeks, Zhou Chang rode in his father’s reinforced Maybach. Many automakers offered custom reinforcement options, making the vehicles bulletproof and blast-resistant.

Fact proved once again that Jing Hong’s instincts were often uncannily accurate—and Jing Hong never dared ignore his own premonitions.

One day, as the two were riding together in Zhou Chang’s Maybach leaving an event, a Hummer heading in the opposite direction suddenly slammed on the accelerator in their lane. It wasn’t trying to pass them by—it was barreling straight toward the front of their car for a head-on collision!!!

Zhou Chang was behind the wheel today; they hadn’t called for a driver.

Seeing that collision was unavoidable, in a flash of lightning, Zhou Chang calmly whipped the steering wheel, angling the vehicle slightly to position his own driver’s side directly toward the impact.

At the exact same instant, Jing Hong instinctively tried to do the same—he reached out his arm, wanting to shield Zhou Chang.

Yet seated in the passenger side, there was only so much he could do.

A deafening “BOOM!” echoed through the air as the two vehicles crashed together.