The main conference room at Chengyu Group headquarters.
The year-end performance reviews for senior management, suspended for three years, had suddenly resumed this year.
One person stood at the lectern, with plenty of people seated below. The board members sat in the center, flanked by the group's senior executives, with the heads of its various branches seated farther back in order. They were both presenters and listeners.
Wang Xiaoliang sat toward the back and flipped through the agenda in his hands-he was last, scheduled for the following afternoon.
Fu Zhaojun went up first.
The group's overall revenue, growth figures for each division, and his personal summary of the year's work were presented clearly and methodically, at an unhurried pace.
Once the report was over, Sima Hedong spoke. Although he had painfully lost twenty percent of his shares to save his son, his prestige and commanding presence among the shareholders remained.
The questions came one after another, probing difficult angles in an impolite tone.
Seeing this, the other shareholders joined in with questions. The atmosphere immediately changed.
"Mr. Fu, I'd like to ask about the president's attendance this year."
It was Liu Chengyi who asked.
An uncle was grilling his own nephew, far away in Singapore: why weren't you coming to work?
Wang Xiaoliang couldn't quite understand how someone as impressive as Grandpa Liu had raised a son like Liu Chengyi.
The room fell silent for two seconds. Everyone could tell this wasn't a question about attendance, but about whether the president had actually done any work. Had he been working seriously, or sleeping on his father's laurels?
Standing at the lectern, Fu Zhaojun's expression remained unchanged. "The president has been working all along and has never been negligent. All group operations are running normally. Although our returns aren't what they