Chapter 1: Jing Hong

Fanhai Group Holdings Co., Ltd.

Office of the General Manager.

Jing Hong sat behind the desk, conducting his weekly one-on-one meeting with Zhao Hanqing, the General Manager of the Investment Department at Fanhai Group.

Jing Hong was thirty-two, with slightly elongated phoenix eyes—narrow, with smooth, gently upturned outer corners and delicate double eyelids. His irises were a touch light in color and set slightly high, the lower edge just brushing the lower rim of his eye sockets, almost giving him a faintly cold, detached look that was nonetheless imposing. Yet his fair complexion, soft facial lines, and long neck tempered that air of distance.

Jing Hong had been at the helm of Fanhai, a trillion-dollar empire, for the past year.

Fanhai was founded by Jing Hong's father, Jing Haiping, in June 1997, initially offering personal web pages and email services, then branching into other social networking tools, and later broadening its business footprint across many areas of the internet. It had rung the NASDAQ bell years ago. As U.S. stocks climbed ever higher, Fanhai's market value at its peak now stood at a staggering trillion. When people spoke of Fanhai's market cap, the number was followed by the staggering word "Trillion."

If Fanhai's operations ever faltered, Wall Street would be awash in blood.

Unsurprisingly, Jing Haiping's son, Jing Hong, had majored in computer science, earning both his bachelor's and doctorate from Stanford. However, because Jing Hong's skills were already at a professional level during high school and he had his father's connections, he started interning at major companies as a freshman—Google, Facebook—and later moved to top-tier investment banks on Wall Street, known as "Bulge Bracket," such as Goldman Sachs, where he worked in the investment banking division on core areas like equity offerings, debt issuance, M&A, and restructuring. For his doctorate, Jing Hong had originally planned to pursue a different field, but after Geoffrey Hinton introduced the concept of "deep learning" in 2006, Jing Hong keenly sensed the coming wave of artificial intelligence and chose AI instead. During his doctoral studies, he also interned at Amazon and Microsoft in Seattle, and earned a master's degree along the way.

After earning his Ph.D. at twenty-five, Jing Hong immediately joined Fanhai. At first, Jing Haiping did not reveal his son's identity; Jing Hong was just a manager in the "Online Social Business Group," Fanhai's founding division, where he rolled out two new features. A year later, Jing Hong was transferred to the "Corporate Development Business Group," where he led several mergers and acquisitions in the group's investment department, and also did a stint in the marketing department.

After a year and a half in the "Corporate Development Business Group," just as his former colleagues were wondering what was going on with his career, Jing Haiping revealed his identity and brought him in as his own assistant. Jing Haiping intended to groom him, having Jing Hong look over and think through many things first. Much to Jing Haiping's delight, he found that Jing Hong even surpassed him—several new features that Jing Haiping liked but Jing Hong disliked had failed to yield good results, some even being taken down within a day. So by the second year, after Fanhai underwent a seismic restructuring, turning its "AI Lab" into the "AI Business Group," Jing Haiping made the head of this new group report directly to Jing Hong, because AI was truly too "new"—a weak spot for Jing Haiping, yet exactly Jing Hong's specialty, as he was among the first in the world to work with "deep learning." Jing Haiping wanted to give his son a major group to manage, and the "AI Business Group" seemed like the perfect fit. Jing Haiping was anxious, but he trusted his son, and his trust proved well-founded—several products Jing Hong went "All In" on, such as medical imaging, became the next big thing a year later.

After about three years as his father's assistant, Jing Hong grew increasingly confident. At that point, Fanhai's CSO (Chief Strategy Officer) and President of the "Corporate Development Business Group" left to become CEO of a bank. Because it was sudden, Jing Hong stepped in as the new President of the Corporate Development Business Group, given that the acquisitions he had led years earlier had generated exceptionally high returns, and the fields he had disliked back then had since proven to be poor bets.

Jing Haiping had not intended for his son to take over so soon, but fate had other ideas. A year ago, his father was diagnosed with a tumor. Although surgery and chemotherapy were performed, and pathology confirmed the tumor was still in its early stages, a tumor was a tumor—it could recur at any time and turn deadly. Considering his health, Jing Haiping decided to take it easy and enjoy life. Of course, this decision was made with Jing Hong's capabilities in mind—under his leadership, neither the "AI Business Group" nor the "Corporate Development Business Group" had encountered any major issues.

And so, from that day on, Jing Hong took over his father's role, assumed control of the empire, and took full command of Fanhai—he became the Group's Grand President, while Jing Haiping remained Chairman of the Board.

Now, the Investment Department that Zhao Hanqing managed reported to the Corporate Development Business Group. The Group President of the Corporate Development Business Group was Jing Hong himself, and the GM (General Manager) of the Investment Department was Zhao Hanqing.

After the two of them sorted through several issues, Jing Hong asked with studied nonchalance: "By the way, how's the merger between 'Kunpeng' and 'Huawei' going?"

Zhao Hanqing said: "Most of the other terms are settled. In the merged company, we hold 20%, and Qinghui also holds 20%. But we can't agree on who gets to be CEO of the new company."

Jing Hong said: "I figured."

"Kunpeng" was a startup invested in by Fanhai, while "Huawei" was invested in by "Qinghui," one of China's "Big Four" internet companies. Both Kunpeng and Huawei operated in the emerging field of "internet banks," and they were the only two internet banks in all of China. Internet banks sounded strange at first, but in reality, their user potential was immense—without physical branches or tellers, they could offer very generous interest rates. In the U.S., even Goldman Sachs and others had launched their own internet banks.

At the end of 2015, when the central bank announced the removal of the cap on one-year-plus fixed deposit rates, Jing Hong saw an opportunity and acted decisively.

Initially, because VCs all believed Chinese depositors would only favor the "Big Four" state banks—Agriculture Bank, China Construction Bank, Bank of China, and ICBC—Kunpeng couldn't attract any investment at all. When Jing Hong decided to invest, he felt quite lonely, as if he were the only one in all of China doing so. But then, within less than a month, Kunpeng's competitor Huawei announced that its Series A funding round had been completed, proudly revealing that the investor was Qinghui, with the deal brokered by Zhou Chang.

Later, with Fanhai's facilitation, Kunpeng secured insurance from China's largest insurance company—"up to 100,000 yuan per customer"—and obtained an official banking license, which reassured depositors and led to rapid user growth.

However, as China's "only two" internet banks, in order to defeat each other and capture market share, both Kunpeng and Huawei offered extremely high subsidies to new users. For example, Kunpeng promised that if a user referred another user, both would see their one-year fixed deposit interest rate rise from 4.5% to 5.5%. Kunpeng's own lending business couldn't sustain that figure, so it relied on Fanhai's investment, while Huawei was in the same boat. Each side blamed the other for firing the first shot, but the result was that both Kunpeng and Huawei kept raising subsidy rates, attracting more depositors, and burning through more money. Gradually, their investors—Fanhai for Kunpeng and Qinghui for Huawei—after round after round of capital injections, finally reached their limit.

Money flowed like water.

Both Fanhai and Qinghui wanted to merge Kunpeng and Huawei, shake hands, settle disputes, share the market, and plan for the future together. The burn rate was too severe; "merging Kunpeng and Huawei into one" was the logical solution. The market was only so big—throwing more money to poach each other's users was pointless. Better to stop, split the market in half, than to pour money in and still end up with a fifty-fifty market. The one who brought both sides to the table was the head of Goldman Sachs China—she wanted to invest in the merged entity, and since Fanhai and Qinghui were like kings who never met, she had excellent relationships with both.

Though everyone said that when it came to "investing in companies," Fanhai and Qinghui were essentially two dairy cows—cows give endless milk, Fanhai and Qinghui give endless money—still, if they could save, it was best to save.

But now... Jing Hong thought: the negotiations seemed to have hit the deadlock he had anticipated—the CEO issue.

After Kunpeng and Huawei merged, who would be CEO of the new company? The original CEO of Kunpeng? Or the original CEO of Huawei? Clearly, Kunpeng's CEO was aligned with Fanhai and would continue to favor Fanhai, since Fanhai had invested in Kunpeng for years, with the gratitude of a patron. Meanwhile, Huawei's CEO was aligned with Qinghui and would certainly favor Qinghui.

"The CEO is the real power position," Jing Hong said. "We need to secure it."

Zhao Hanqing: "Yes. I know. I'm still working on it."

Shareholders can only oversee so much; the CEO holds the real power.

For the new company formed from the Kunpeng and Huawei merger, Jing Hong wanted it to answer to him, not to that Zhou Chang.

Zhou Chang—Jing Hong didn't like him.

Also thirty-two, also having taken over his father's business last year—in fact, in the "second-generation entrepreneurs" circle rife with wastrels, only he and Zhou Chang had successfully taken over.

Everyone said they were alike, and they truly were—both in their early thirties, graduates of elite schools, with stellar résumés, stepping into the spotlight early. Unlike typical "second-gen heirs," both Jing Hong and Zhou Chang had chosen the technical path, studying computer science through to a Ph.D., with extensive hands-on experience at U.S. tech companies. The only difference was that Jing Hong returned to China immediately after graduating, while Zhou Chang worked at McKinsey in San Francisco for a full five years, doing management consulting for the IT industry—starting with corporate management, then investment management, rising to Director before returning to China at thirty, where he immediately took over Qinghui's core business group.

According to industry gossip, what made Zhou Chang's name at McKinsey was a restructuring project for a major conglomerate. Zhou Chang was tasked with devising that company's global layoff plan. He was ruthless, cutting a third of the workforce outright, shocking the industry. But afterward, the client, finally shedding its bloated frame, took off, and its stock price soared.

Last year, Zhou Chang's father, Zhou Buqun, said something wrong after drinking—and it was serious. When he sobered up, he scared himself half to death, fearing official repercussions. So, before anything even happened, he handed Qinghui to his son and fled to Europe to retire. Zhou Buqun thought it through—he'd voluntarily cut off his own arm, step down, so the company's operations would at least stay normal and remain in the Zhou family's hands. But regardless, that incident of misspeaking eventually blew over.

After taking over, the "old Qinghui faction" and the "new Qinghui faction" clashed fiercely, and the transition was not as smooth as Fanhai's. But Zhou Chang ruled the board with an iron fist, and he was practically the king of infighting—a god of combat. Those who tried to oust him all ended up ousted themselves. After two or three rounds, no one dared to speak up anymore.

Even online, people said Zhou Chang was handsome but bad; or Zhou Chang was bad but handsome—same meaning, different emphasis.

In the previous generation, Jing Haiping had looked down on Zhou Chang's father. In this generation, Fanhai and Qinghui were locked in all-out war across every internet sector, with competition often reaching a fever pitch, so Jing Hong and Zhou Chang had even less interaction. At various meetings, if they did cross paths, they'd nod, maybe exchange a greeting, or even make small talk, but privately they had zero contact—they hadn't even added each other on any platform.

Jing Hong was the favored son of heaven, unmatched by anyone, and he believed he was special. But now, suddenly, everyone was saying "you two are exactly alike," and Jing Hong found it quite irritating.

"Alright, that's all." At the end of the meeting, Jing Hong picked up a dark red folder from the desk, clearly moving on to other matters. "Just one thing: the CEO position after the Kunpeng and Huawei merger—that real power seat cannot be conceded."

Zhao Hanqing said again: "I know."

"Thanks for your hard work," Jing Hong said. Still young, he tried to be as gracious as possible with his subordinates. "I know it's not easy, but I'm waiting for your good news."

............

He worked until past seven. Jing Hong's secretary notified the driver that Jing Hong was done for the day and to wait for him downstairs. At Fanhai, both the former Jing Haiping and the current Jing Hong had a dedicated elevator that went straight down to the parking space, off-limits to everyone else. Every evening, the driver waited at the elevator exit for them. A few other senior executives at Fanhai also had dedicated elevators, though they shared one.

Leaving the office and taking the elevator to the parking garage, the driver was already waiting by the car. Seeing Jing Hong, the driver said, "Mr. Jing," and gently opened the rear door. Jing Hong stepped into the car.

Fastening his seatbelt, Jing Hong told the driver: "Tonight, we're going to the old Mr. Jing's place."

"Mr. Jing" or "Young Mr. Jing" referred to himself, while "Old Mr. Jing" naturally meant Jing Haiping. Jing Hong usually returned to the large flat he'd bought four years ago near Fanhai, but occasionally, when he had a bit of free time—like today—he'd go see his parents.

The old Mr. and Mrs. Jing lived in an upscale villa community. The driver acknowledged and smoothly pulled out.

Jing Hong continued working. As he reviewed the materials in hand, his mind drifted back to the Kunpeng and Huawei merger.

Although he'd told Zhao Hanqing "I'm waiting for your good news," in truth, Jing Hong had already prepared for the negotiations to collapse.

This had nothing to do with Zhao Hanqing's work ethic. Jing Hong didn't personally oversee every investment project at Fanhai, so whenever he did get involved—no matter how casually he appeared—it signaled the project's importance. Zhao Hanqing understood that well.

It also had nothing to do with Zhao Hanqing's competence. Fanhai's Investment Department was the company's elite division, established by a former Goldman Sachs Greater China chairman who had jumped ship. It had few employees, but each one was decorated with prestige—coming through Peking University, Tsinghua, and BB investment banks, joining Fanhai's investment department meant reaching the very top of the financial industry's food chain. Several senior members of the department had been executives at top-tier investment banks, and Zhao Hanqing was no exception. With deep roots in various fields and formidable work capability, nearly half of China's unicorns in recent years bore Fanhai's imprint. Fanhai's investment conference was the best there was—startups clamored to participate. Some even said that if Fanhai drew lots and invested in a company, that company would hit the daily limit the next day.

The problem was, he wouldn't give up the CEO seat, and that Zhou Chang would never yield either. And Qinghui's investment department was equally the best in the industry.

Over the past year, through several encounters, Jing Hong had come to know Zhou Chang's personal style very well.

Indeed, just like his own.

This year, both companies' investment styles had grown increasingly domineering. Rich and willful, extremely aggressive, relentless in pursuing what they wanted, astonishingly generous with offers, willing to give high valuations, and quick to wire funds. This year, whenever Fanhai and Qinghui both set their sights on the same thing, a storm was guaranteed.

Every time, the industry would say, "My God! Jing Hong and Zhou Chang have their eyes on the same new toy again!"

Jing Hong understood Zhou Chang—they truly were alike, even though they had no personal connection whatsoever. Jing Hong benefited from this understanding, yet he loathed this inexplicable familiarity.

Just as that thought crossed his mind, Jing Hong noticed the road leading to the villa area was undergoing pipeline maintenance.

The road originally had one lane in each direction, northbound and southbound, but now one side was closed, so everyone just had to figure it out themselves.

Jing Hong's driver saw a car approaching from a distance, but since the other party was still far off and they were closer to the closed-off section, he didn't stop.

But the Maybach's driver was clearly used to throwing his weight around. He just floored it, trying to muscle into the open lane first and force Jing Hong's car to brake, cutting ahead!

Jing Hong was always low-key; today's car was just a Tesla, nowhere near the class of a Maybach 62S. As a tech CEO, Jing Hong would never pick a 12-cylinder gas guzzler like that—huge displacement, terrible for the planet.

Maybe it was exactly because Jing Hong's car was so low-key that the other driver felt he could push them around.

But clearly, Jing Hong's driver wasn't willing to take this crap either. As a result, the two cars ended up staring each other down in the only lane that was still usable.

Jing Hong's driver rolled down the window and cursed, "What the hell kind of driving is that?! You were that far back, and you still tried to cut in?!"

The other car was over six meters long with a yellow license plate, and its driver looked like a thug: "Do you know you're going the wrong way?! I'm going the right way! Are you blind or what?"

"Back up," Jing Hong's driver waved his hand, not wanting to argue with a thug. "We're farther from the exit; you're closer to it."

"Like hell I will!"

The other driver had barely gotten the curse out when Jing Hong's driver noticed the person in the Maybach's back seat seem to say something. The driver instantly went quiet as a mouse, shut up, started the engine, and very, very slowly backed up.

The Maybach pulled over—into the other lane on the other side of the roadblock.

"Hah! Backed down after all!" Jing Hong's driver hit the gas too.

As they passed the Maybach, out of mild curiosity, Jing Hong turned his head slightly and glanced at the person in the back seat.

Coincidentally, the other person looked over as well.

Both were sitting on the inner side, and neither car had tinted glass. Through the two layers of windows, Jing Hong's breath caught the moment their eyes met.

The man didn't look like one of those idol-star types; he looked like someone used to being in charge. A smooth forehead, a high nose, thin lips, and a sharply defined jawline. But the most striking thing was his eyes—jet black, like they could see right through you. Yet if you looked closer, you'd see that beneath those flirtatious peach-blossom eyes, there was nothing but cold indifference.

Zhou Chang.

Jing Hong thought—of all people, Zhou Chang.

The two silently stared at each other through the two layers of windows, as if thinking about something, or as if thinking about nothing at all—neither pair of eyes revealed any hint of what was going through their minds. The cars slid past each other, one going south, the other north, and soon Zhou Chang disappeared from Jing Hong's view.

Only after passing did Jing Hong remember that Zhou Chang's old man and his own old man had bought villas in the same area. So it seemed he was heading in, and Zhou Chang was heading out.

Because Jing Haiping really couldn't stand Zhou Chang's father, Zhou Buqun, every time he ran into the guy in the neighborhood, he'd come home and mutter "What a jinx."

He wondered if, in a little while, after he told his old man about the standoff between the two cars, the old man would say "jinx" again.

Author's note:

Zhou Chang (chang, third tone), you can also call him Yongri (not really).

[Notes]:

①Bulge Bracket (BB) investment banks: "Bulge" means "protruding." BB investment banks refer to the top-tier multinational investment banks, namely Goldman Sachs, Morgan Stanley, JP Morgan Chase, UBS, Deutsche Bank, Barclays Capital, Bank of America Merrill Lynch, Credit Suisse, and Citigroup—these nine. It's said they're called "Bulge Bracket" because the lead banks' names are listed at the top of the cover pages of documents like IPO announcements, with particularly large logos.

②VC (Venture capital): Risk investment.

③Unicorn: A tech startup founded less than 10 years ago, valued at over $1 billion, and not yet listed. In recent years, China's largest unicorn was naturally ByteDance.

Additionally, after the central bank relaxed interest rate controls, China's internet banks actually formed an "industry alliance" with a self-regulatory mechanism, avoiding interest rate competition, generally raising rates by 40%-50%, but some countries compete fiercely on rates. This doesn't strictly follow reality here.