Chapter 23: Feichi Auto Investment (Part 5)

Chapter 23: Feichi Auto Investment Case (V)

Xindong Pictures and Feichi Auto were beyond Fanhai's ability to salvage now, and Jing Hong naturally stopped thinking about it.

A few days later, Jing Hong was due to attend a very important event in Chongqing—the China International Smart Industry Expo, abbreviated as the "Smart Expo."

The Smart Expo was co-hosted by more than a dozen ministries and commissions, including the MIIT, the National Development and Reform Commission, the Ministry of Science and Technology, the Cyberspace Administration of China, the Chinese Academy of Sciences, and the Chinese Academy of Engineering, with partners including Singapore's Ministry of Trade and Industry and other government agencies from several countries. This was the first edition.

This wasn't a seminar but a trade show, centered on exhibitions and sales, along with conferences, forums, and competitions like autonomous driving challenges and drone racing grand prix events.

The organizers hoped the Smart Expo would bring China's smart products to foreign markets and the world, so this edition would feature centralized contract signings for major projects, complete with a signing ceremony.

The head of Fanhai's marketing department had already led a crack team to set up the booth—at the Smart Expo, the Fanhai Group's "booth" would occupy the very center of the venue, right next to the Qinghui Group's. The booth was massive and lavishly decorated. The heads of the AI and cloud computing business units had also left last night, accompanied by the senior VPs of marketing, sales, and key accounts for both units, the VP for Hong Kong, Macau, Taiwan, and international affairs, as well as the overall leads for multiple exhibited products, some SVPs and some VPs. Naturally, a number of product managers, front-end managers, and back-end managers had also gone—they'd be stationed at the booth to explain each product's core selling points and answer customers' questions, while the elite members of the sales department's key accounts and international divisions would mainly handle liaison and outreach.

Fanhai was just too big.

The last two to leave were Jing Hong and his assistant.

This time, Jing Hong would only give a brief speech at the main forum, then browse other companies' exhibits, check his own company's signings, and finally attend the signing ceremony. The whole schedule was pretty relaxed.

In the VIP lounge at Capital Airport, Jing Hong was waiting for the boarding call.

His flight was at 6 PM, landing in Chongqing around 9. After a good sleep, he'd be ready for the main forum tomorrow morning.

Jing Hong sat in a single armchair by the window, long legs crossed, reading a report.

Two people walked by, and Jing Hong glanced up—his eyes met Zhou Chang's directly.

Zhou Chang gave a slight nod, and Jing Hong nodded back, knowing full well the other man was likely on the same flight.

After the exchange, Jing Hong's gaze dropped back to the documents in his hand, though from the corner of his eye he saw Zhou Chang and his companion head somewhere behind him. He couldn't tell which row they'd taken, and it got quiet again.

Jing Hong kept waiting for the boarding call, but at some point, he couldn't help feeling the wait was dragging on a bit too long.

Before long, Jing Hong was proven right again—the airport announced that due to a minor issue found during the pre-takeoff routine inspection, China Southern flight 2704 would be delayed, with no confirmed departure time.

The lounge staff came to notify Jing Hong personally.

"..." After a moment's thought, Jing Hong had his assistant Tan Qian ask the lounge staff to come over, hoping to switch to the next available flight. He didn't want to wait.

Beijing wasn't a China Southern hub, so maintenance or reallocation would be a hassle and could take a while.

His assistant did as asked.

A moment later, the ground staff returned and said to Jing Hong and his assistant: "There are a few flights coming up, but business and economy are all full. However, Sichuan Airlines' 10:15 flight still has seats, landing at 1:30."

"10:15?" Jing Hong checked his watch. "That's nearly four hours of waiting?" His eyes rolled up, showing a sliver of white beneath.

The ground staff member, unfazed, replied matter-of-factly: "Yes."

Jing Hong nodded. "Alright, thanks. Let me think about it."

Ground staff: "Of course, sir."

After the staff left, Jing Hong closed his file and tapped his right fingers on the sofa's armrest.

Then, just as he was hesitating, Jing Hong heard a gentle male voice near his ear: "President Jing."

"...?" Jing Hong turned his gaze and found Zhou Chang's assistant standing there.

"President Jing," Zhou Chang's assistant said, bending slightly, "President Zhou asks if you'd like to come with us? His private jet filed for a domestic route to Chongqing earlier and can leave soon. President Zhou asks if you'd like to join?"

"..." Jing Hong glanced back—Zhou Chang was sitting on a beige sofa behind him, and when he saw Jing Hong look over, he smiled politely.

Jing Hong turned his neck back, mulled it over for a good while, and finally said to the assistant: "Alright, I'll take President Zhou up on that." If the next flight had issues too, he'd be totally screwed.

The assistant nodded and told Jing Hong: "We'll leave in five minutes."

"Okay."

Jing Hong flipped through a few more pages of his file when he felt a large hand squeeze his right shoulder, followed by a familiar, magnetic voice close to his right ear: "President Jing... off to Chongqing."

His ear tickled.

Jing Hong hadn't expected Zhou Chang to come over in person.

He handed the file to Tan Qian to pack away, stood up, and followed Zhou Chang, who was deliberately slowing down. Zhou Chang had one hand in his trouser pocket and the other holding his phone, seemingly checking emails.

So Jing Hong followed silently.

When Zhou Chang led Jing Hong out of the airport terminal, his driver was already back.

Jing Hong took one look—wow, another Rolls-Royce.

The last Rolls-Royce had gone to Chris Wells, and now here was another.

He wondered which lucky employee would get the keys to this one next.

Zhou Chang and Jing Hong sat together in the back seat of the Rolls-Royce.

Zhou Chang had already put away his phone, and as the door closed, he smiled: "Good thing I filed for the domestic route."

Jing Hong smiled back and asked: "Then why did you switch to commercial flights in the first place?"

Zhou Chang tapped his fingers on the control panel on the door and said: "Saw the news—a private jet crashed in Las Vegas last night. Scared the hell out of me."

"..." Jing Hong couldn't tell at all whether that was true or not, so he stayed silent.

"But there's no helping it now." Zhou Chang curled his lips again, buckling his seatbelt as he asked Jing Hong: "President Jing, you still dare to go? If we die, we die together."

"Let's go." Jing Hong found the man utterly unserious, but he clicked his seatbelt shut with a snap and replied: "I trust President Zhou isn't that unlucky, and neither am I."

"Of course," Zhou Chang joked back, "President Jing is a dragon among men—one of heaven's most favored."

The atmosphere between them bore no trace of the earlier tension, when one had repeatedly refused the other's investment in Feichi, and the other had schemed his way in anyway.

Soon they arrived at the business aviation terminal.

After security, Jing Hong looked out across the airfield and suddenly said: "Peng Zheng's here too." Peng Zheng—CEO of "Xingyuan," one of the Big Four. His private jet was conspicuously parked in the first spot on the left, and Jing Hong recognized it.

Jing Haiping and Jing Hong himself also had private jets, but if direct flights were available, Jing Hong generally preferred commercial aviation for a smoother ride. He naturally knew that when not in use, these planes were kept at management companies, so the jet's presence here meant Peng Zheng was flying out tonight as well. Jing Hong had seen the guest list for the Smart Expo—Peng Zheng would be attending.

Knowing that the Jing family's relationship with Xingyuan was far better than with Qinghui, Zhou Chang asked Jing Hong, half seriously, half in jest: "Then will you go with him?"

Jing Hong really couldn't figure Zhou Chang out. Looking off into the distance, he said: "Peng Zheng didn't invite me."

Zhou Chang confirmed once more: "So you're still coming with me?"

"Unless," Jing Hong paused mid-step, teasing, "...President Zhou is having second thoughts?"

"You'll be the death of me with that accusation." Zhou Chang smirked. "I'm just afraid you might change your mind, Mr. Jing."

Zhou Chang's private jet was a Gulfstream 650, a model only approved by the Civil Aviation Administration of China early last year. The one Zhou Buqun had before was probably already outdated.

Jing Hong recalled Jing Haiping's assessment of the Zhou father and son: "Cut from the same cloth—wasteful, extravagant, and dissolute."

Jing Hong made a mental note to tell Jing Haiping next time they met that Zhou Chang had not only gotten a new car but also a new plane.

The Gulfstream 650 had the most spacious cabin of any business jet in its class. Jing Hong glanced around—the door to the private compartment was closed, typically housing a double bed and LED TV. Outside were four single sofas in beige, with wooden tables stowed away. Between the sofas and the compartment was a conference area seating six.

Zhou Chang said, "Sit wherever you like."

"Thanks." Jing Hong didn't bother with pleasantries, choosing a window-side sofa, with his assistant Tan Qian sitting across from him, sharing a table.

Since there were only four seats in this area, Zhou Chang sat across the aisle from Jing Hong.

This arrangement was the most sensible—or rather, the only sensible one—with the two bosses facing forward and the two assistants facing the rear.

Jing Hong and Zhou Chang weren't close enough to make small talk the entire flight. Jing Hong was just catching a ride with Zhou Chang to Chongqing. The Gulfstream 650's aisle wasn't narrow, so the two could each mind their own business and exchange pleasantries before landing, which suited them both just fine.

Once everyone was ready, the business jet took off.

The jet had a pressurization system that kept the cabin comfortable, so there was no discomfort during ascent.

About ten minutes later, the flight leveled off. Jing Hong initially planned to continue reading the proposal he'd been reviewing, but after picking it up and thinking it over, he decided against it.

What if Zhou Chang's jet had cameras or something? This proposal was confidential.

So Jing Hong set the document on the table, crossed his arms, and quietly stared out the window.

Zhou Chang looked up and asked, "Done working, Mr. Jing?"

"Done working." Jing Hong gestured toward the window. "The clouds are beautiful this evening."

Jing Hong wasn't the romantic type; this was just an excuse.

Zhou Chang glanced outside as well, then surprisingly closed the file on his lap, stowed the table, and tossed the document onto it, saying, "In that case, I won't work either."

Outside, dusk had fallen.

The clouds below were a sea of orange and red, rolling gently, as if the plane were drifting over soft cotton fields at dawn. The sun sat right on the horizon, a perfect round disc, with golden light fanning out—dark blue above, bright yellow below. Through breaks in the clouds, the earth below resembled a vast oil painting—lively, colorful, stretching endlessly.

In that twilight, everything was bathed in orange-gold, including Jing Hong's face by the window.

Zhou Chang quietly watched Jing Hong's face, now warmed by the glow.

He looked like a pearl at dusk, waiting to be claimed.

Jing Hong noticed, of course, and gave him a questioning look.

Zhou Chang smiled. "Your skin's so pale, Mr. Jing, you look like a fluorescent bulb."

Jing Hong: "..." What a terrible metaphor.

Zhou Chang glanced back out the window and casually said, "Back when I was doing consulting in the US, I traveled a lot."

Jing Hong's attention was caught.

Zhou Chang continued, "Once, the plane was about to take off, but a Black man in the cabin suddenly clawed at his face, blood and flesh everywhere—probably had some kind of mental breakdown. The crew worried he might be a terrorist, made everyone get off the plane, and immediately searched the aircraft. The search lasted over four hours. That was the first time I spent an entire night in an airport hotel."

With that, Zhou Chang looked back, and their eyes met.

"Speaking of which..." Jing Hong, speaking to his assistant Tan Qian—and of course to Zhou Chang and the others—shared a "flight delay" story of his own. He smiled and said, "Once, in Argentina, the plane had just taken off when it hit a bird. Apparently, the window cracked, so the plane landed right away—delayed us by hours, too."

Zhou Chang: "That sounds dangerous."

"It wasn't too bad, actually." Their eyes met again, and Jing Hong said to Zhou Chang, "That's when I learned that bird strikes usually happen during takeoff or landing, but since commercial jets are big, they can land right away."

Zhou Chang nodded. "I see."

After a moment, Zhou Chang asked Jing Hong, "You two eaten yet? Want me to have the kitchen whip something up?" There was a kitchen on the plane.

"No need." Jing Hong said to Zhou Chang, "We grabbed a bite before boarding. Not hungry."

"How about a drink, then?" Zhou Chang asked again. "I've got some good liquor, but I don't know if it's your thing, Mr. Jing."

"No trouble." Jing Hong said, "Ice water is fine, thanks."

Zhou Chang then asked Jing Hong's assistant, "And you, Tan Qian?"

Tan Qian said, "Ice water for me too, thanks, Mr. Zhou."

So Zhou Chang ordered four glasses of ice water from the flight attendant.

To Jing Hong's surprise, the flight attendant wasn't a young, pretty girl but a woman in her forties who clearly knew what she was doing—a "flight auntie," as they're called. In China, female flight attendants usually have to move to ground roles by 35, or 40 at the latest. Jing Hong figured she'd probably worked in commercial aviation before.

Jing Hong took a few sips, resting the glass on his knee, then said out of nowhere, "The last time I came to Chongqing was actually twenty years ago."

"Oh?" Zhou Chang was surprised. "In all your seven or eight years at Fanhai, you never made it to Chongqing?"

Jing Hong shook his head, looking at Zhou Chang. "No. Weird, right?" He turned back and added, "But maybe it's childhood nostalgia—I have fond memories of Chongqing."

Zhou Chang watched him without speaking, so Jing Hong continued, "Beijing's a big flat plain, you know. But Chongqing had all these ups and downs—hills, stairs, elevated walkways between roads and buildings—I found it all so interesting back then."

Zhou Chang nodded.

"And the night cruise in Chongqing," Jing Hong went on. "The Yangtze and Jialing rivers. Sightseeing boats gliding through the water, with tall buildings and dense lights lining both banks—absolutely stunning."

"The night cruise on the two rivers in Chongqing," Zhou Chang said, "I've never actually tried it."

Jing Hong told Zhou Chang, "From what I remember, it's gorgeous."

"When you were a kid..." Zhou Chang mused, "Hongya Cave wasn't built yet, was it? It must be even more beautiful now."

"Is that so?" Jing Hong took a sip of ice water. "Then I'll have to see it again sometime."

After a pause, Zhou Chang asked again, "Any other memories of Chongqing, Mr. Jing?"

"Yes," Jing Hong smiled at Zhou Chang. "I remember eating at an incredible hotpot place."

"Oh?" Zhou Chang asked. "Which one? Is it still around?"

"It was called 'Shancheng Di Yi Jia'—'First of the Mountain City.'" Jing Hong had an excellent memory. He traced the character for "mountain" in the air with his finger. "As for whether it's still there... I wouldn't know."

Zhou Chang leaned over and pulled out his phone. "'Shancheng Di Yi Jia,' you say?" He searched, and after a few seconds raised an eyebrow. "Found it. Still there. A real institution—now one of the most recommended hotpot places in Chongqing." This was Zhou Chang's private jet, so the Wi-Fi had connected automatically.

Jing Hong nodded. "With food like that, it deserves the reputation."

Since they were sitting side by side and couldn't keep craning their necks, Jing Hong and Zhou Chang each faced their own assistant or stared out the window, occasionally catching each other's eye or exchanging a few words.

Jing Hong's assistant, Tan Qian, noticed that the dynamic between these two men was extremely subtle.

In normal social interactions, when people speak to each other, they typically look at the area just below the other person's eyes—a gentler approach. The most assertive might stare at the lower eyelid. But Jing Hong and Zhou Chang? Perhaps accustomed to being in positions of power, both aimed directly at the other's upper eyelid, projecting a striking aggressiveness. Yet when they did so, there was a certain harmonious chemistry between them, not tense at all.

The flight from Beijing to Chongqing lasted roughly two hours.

Throughout the entire journey, for the vast majority of the time, Jing Hong and Zhou Chang were like this—casually chatting now and then, occasionally locking eyes, from the fading sunset glow to a sky full of stars.

They touched on a lot of topics. Once, while the plane was above the clouds, they even brought up the film *Up in the Air*.

At that point, Jing Hong asked Zhou Chang, "Have you seen *Up in the Air*, President Zhou?"

"I have," Zhou Chang replied. "The story itself seems boring, but the theme is pretty deep, and I agree with it. Modern people's desire for freedom and their craving for companionship are at odds. Luckily, I'm not all that attached to 'companionship.'"

*Up in the Air*, a drama released in 2009, directed by Jason Reitman and starring George Clooney, was nominated for Oscars, including Best Picture, the following year. The main character is an HR expert who shuttles between major airports around the world, day in and day out. Then he meets another "frequent flyer," and from then on, a beautiful woman takes up the other side of his suitcase. Faced with the female lead, Ryan Bingham wants to change his lifestyle—settle down, get married, and have kids. The film's ending is quite unexpected—his girlfriend is already married; she just has a family while still craving freedom. In the end, Ryan hits the road again.

"I agree too," Jing Hong said. "But deep down, I still kind of hope these two things don't have to be forever at odds."

Could there be someone who could help him grow more and give him greater freedom?

Zhou Chang smiled and said, "President Jing has always been an idealist."

"Thank you," Jing Hong gave a faint smile. "Personally, I don't think 'idealistic' is a bad thing."

Two hours flew by, surprisingly.

Finally, as the dazzling nightscape of Chongqing slowly unfolded beneath them, Zhou Chang's first thought was that he didn't really want to leave.

A strange thought, but yeah, he didn't want to leave.

The plane finally landed successfully.

Maybe because of Zhou Chang's remark—"I saw the news that a private jet crashed in Las Vegas last night—scared the hell out of me"—when the wheels touched the ground, Jing Hong actually breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

He suddenly thought: I've heard that many wealthy couples rarely fly on the same flight, fearing accidents. Some major corporations also avoid having their top executives on the same flight. From that perspective, his and Zhou Chang's "we'll die together" approach was pretty unconventional—if the plane had crashed, the so-called "Big Four" would have lost half its members in an instant.

After unbuckling his seatbelt, Jing Hong stood up, tall and long-legged, and Zhou Chang rose as well.

Zhou Chang chuckled: "Two hours of doing nothing, taking it easy, watching the sky and the clouds—I haven't done that in at least twenty years. I can't remember the last time."

For men like them, "time" was everything.

The poor desperately trade time for money; the rich trade money for time. For some, time is the most valuable asset; for others, it's the least valuable.

Hearing Zhou Chang say this, Jing Hong reflected and found he was no different, so he replied politely, "Same here, I suppose. But having a moment of 'doing nothing'—doesn't seem so bad, does it?"

"It's not bad at all," Zhou Chang said, one hand in his pocket. "How does that saying go? 'Strolling past a bamboo courtyard, I chanced upon a monk in conversation'?"

"Exactly," Jing Hong smiled involuntarily and completed the line, "'Stealing a half-day of leisure from a busy life.'"

"Mm," Zhou Chang said, his gaze suddenly locking onto Jing Hong's eyes. "I never would have imagined that this one moment of 'doing nothing' and 'taking it easy' would be spent with you, President Jing."

Caught in that gaze, Jing Hong's heart skipped a beat, but outwardly he remained composed, saying, "Well, same here, I suppose."

At that moment, the cabin door slid open, revealing the mountain city's breeze outside. Jing Hong checked his belongings, especially his phone and documents, shook hands with Zhou Chang once more, said goodbye again, and offered his thanks once more: "Thank you for the ride, President Zhou."

"You're welcome." Perhaps because he had spent so much time in the U.S., Zhou Chang replied in English—though it wasn't commonly used there either—"It's my pleasure."

Author's note:

It's my pleasure.

My honor.