Shencheng, the top floor of Penguin Tower.
Mr. Ma had just finished a three-hour strategy meeting with his senior executives. He took off his thick, black-framed glasses and massaged the aching space between his brows.
More than thirty years of severe nearsightedness and astigmatism meant that without his glasses, he could not even make out the features of someone three meters away. Whenever he reviewed reports during meetings, he had to hold the documents right up to his eyes.
His assistant rushed into the conference room without even stopping to knock.
"Mr. Ma, you need to see this." The assistant pushed a tablet straight onto the broad desk.
A replay of the National Medical Center's livestream was playing on the screen.
Mr. Ma put his glasses back on and leaned closer. In the footage, the severely nearsighted college student smashed his glasses, then pointed at an emergency exit sign fifty meters away and shouted excitedly.
"Pretty good acting!" Mr. Ma shook his head and pushed the tablet back. "Does marketing have no limits anymore? They actually dared to livestream this pseudoscience to the entire internet?"
The assistant swallowed and pointed to the guest seating at the edge of the screen. "Mr. Ma, take a look at who's sitting there."
Mr. Ma leaned in again.
The image froze.
Academician Zhong. And several top officials from the National Health Commission who frequently appeared on the national evening news.
Mr. Ma's hand stopped.
He knew perfectly well that figures of such national importance would never help a private company stage false advertising.
"This medicine..." His voice sounded dry. "It cured severe nearsightedness in a few minutes?"
"Not just nearsightedness." The assistant quickly flipped through the pages. "Cataracts, glaucoma, even total blindness-all cured. The whole internet has gone crazy. The servers have crashed three