Countermeasures

Just as online public opinion was spreading like wildfire, scorching Ankang Hospital on the brink of disaster, on the other side of the city, in an unassuming commercial office building on the top floor, in a luxuriously decorated but cold and oppressive office, a conversation was taking place to determine the response strategy.

Heavy velvet curtains shut out the bustling night view outside the window, and only a few dim wall lamps illuminated the room, their light focused on the large mahogany desk. The air was filled with the rich aroma of expensive cigars, and an invisible yet suffocatingly oppressive atmosphere.

Deputy Director Qian, the middle-aged man who always appeared dignified with his protruding belly in the hospital, now resembled a frightened quail, his back slightly hunched, his forehead covered in fine beads of sweat. Standing in front of his desk, he didn't dare to even breathe loudly. In a trembling voice, he quickly reported on the completely out-of-control public opinion online.

"... President Wei, this is the situation. The video posted by that kid Hou Jun is all over the internet now, and it's already been viewed over 100 million times! And... and then a lot of former patients and their families popped up, kicking us while we're down, making all sorts of detailed claims... Our hospital's official website and complaint hotline are about to explode, and the branch office and the health bureau have also... called us for information..."

As he spoke, he secretly glanced at the figure hidden in the shadows behind the desk.

The man leaned back in a large leather executive chair, his back to Deputy Director Qian, facing a floor-to-ceiling window that covered an entire wall—though the curtains were tightly drawn. He held a thick Cuba cigar between his fingers, the red embers flickering in the dim light. Even without seeing his face, Deputy Director Qian could feel the palpable, unsettling pressure emanating from him.

After Deputy Director Qian finished his report, the office fell into a deathly silence, broken only by the faint hissing sound of burning cigars. Every second of silence was torture for Deputy Director Qian; he felt his heart was about to leap out of his throat.

Finally, the boss's chair slowly turned around.

Mr. Wei was about fifty years old. His hair was neatly combed, with some gray at the temples. He had a thin face, high cheekbones, and deep-set eyes that gleamed with a sharp light when they opened and closed, exuding a domineering and indifferent air cultivated by long-term high-ranking positions and the power of life and death. He wore a well-tailored dark gray Zhongshan suit, with the buttons fastened tightly, giving him an old-fashioned yet capable aura.

He didn't look at Deputy Director Qian, but instead brought the cigar to his lips, took a deep drag, and slowly exhaled thick white smoke. The smoke twisted and distorted in the air, just like the scheming churning in his mind at that moment.

"What's the panic?" Mr. Wei spoke, his voice not loud, but with a metallic, hoarse quality, each word striking Deputy Director Qian's heart like a hammer blow. "The sky won't fall."

He placed his cigar on the crystal ashtray, crossed his hands over his abdomen, and then his gaze fell on Deputy Director Qian like that of a hawk. His eyes were cold and sharp, as if they could pierce through people's hearts.

"Those voices online are nothing but a mob, a bunch of fools echoing what others say." His tone was filled with undisguised contempt. "What kind of trouble can they possibly cause? The hype will eventually die down."

"Yes, yes, what President Wei says is true." Deputy Director Qian nodded and bowed hurriedly, but the worry on his face did not fade. "But... the impact is really too bad now. What if the higher-ups can't withstand the pressure and send down an investigation team..."

"An investigation team?" Mr. Wei's lips curled into a cold, mocking smile. "Let them investigate. Our procedures, documents, medical records—aren't they all 'compliant'? Equipment errors and diagnostic discrepancies are objective facts allowed in modern medicine. As for the family members' one-sided statements, where's the evidence? They think they can convict us with just empty words?"

His confidence stems from his years of experience in disguising all shady operations as "legal and compliant." He knows that within the framework of procedural justice, as long as key evidence is not lost, public opinion alone cannot shake its foundation.

"Then... what should we do now? We can't just let them keep cursing like this, can we?" Deputy Director Qian asked cautiously.

Mr. Wei leaned forward slightly, his sharp eyes narrowing and flashing with a dangerous light.

"Of course we can't just sit here and wait to die. They can use the weapon of public opinion, and so can we."

He held up two fingers, issuing the order in an unquestionable tone:

"First, find people immediately, the best online troll company. Money is no object. Get them involved and completely muddy the waters!"

"Stir things up?" Deputy Director Qian, somewhat puzzled.

"That's right, don't waste your energy trying to whitewash our hospital. That's too low-level, and nobody will believe it," Mr. Wei said coldly, a calculating glint in his eyes. "Concentrate all your firepower on smearing that kid who posted the video, Hou Jun."

"How exactly should I do it?"

"Focus on conspiracy theories." Mr. Wei was clearly adept at this. "Make it up, make it up boldly! Say he owes a huge amount of medical bills and, after being chased by the hospital for payment, harbors resentment and deliberately edited the video to distort the facts and extort money! Say he has a professional medical dispute team behind him directing him, with the sole purpose of blackmailing! You could even say his sister herself has health problems, and that there's a family history of mental illness, so his words are completely unbelievable! In short, the dirtier the better, the more controversial the better!"

His goal was clear: he didn't need everyone to believe the hospital was innocent; he only needed to make a significant portion of the population doubt Hou Jun's motives and character, making the "truth" of the incident as elusive as Rashomon. As long as the waters were muddied enough, he could distract public attention, weaken the impact of a single accusation, and buy time and space for subsequent actions.

"I understand!" Deputy Director Qian's eyes lit up. This tactic of diverting blame and confusing the public was indeed brilliant.

"Second," Mr. Wei's voice suddenly turned cold, taking on a chilling tone, "You personally arrange for someone absolutely reliable to find a way to pass a message to Qin Ming inside."

Mentioning Qin Ming's name, Mr. Wei's face darkened. That idiot, he not only messed things up but also left evidence against him, even implicating the police.

"Tell him," Mr. Wei said, each word sharp and deliberate, as if pulled from an icebox, "That he should watch his mouth and... be prepared."

"Get ready?" Deputy Director Qian's heart skipped a beat, and he subconsciously repeated the question.

Mr. Wei did not explain what "preparation" meant, but his cold and resolute gaze said it all. It was a resolute decision to cut off the tail to save the king, to sacrifice a pawn to save the king.

Qin Ming, this once useful pawn, may now become the price that must be sacrificed. The so-called "preparation" may be preparing to take the blame for all the crimes, or it may be... some other more thorough "arrangement." This is an order that cannot be investigated too deeply, but only executed.

Deputy Director Qian felt a chill run down his spine. He didn't dare ask any more questions and quickly lowered his head, "Yes, President Wei, I'll take care of it right away!"

"Go ahead." Mr. Wei waved his hand, picked up his cigar again, leaned back in his chair, and turned back to the tightly closed curtains, as if all the turmoil outside was nothing more than insignificant ripples on his chessboard.

His profile appeared exceptionally cold and profound in the dim light.

Deputy Director Qian felt as if he had been granted a pardon. He bowed and left the office, gently closing the door behind him. He knew that a fierce, albeit silent, battle of public opinion, and deeper, darker deals, were about to unfold.

As for Doctor Qin Ming, who was at the center of the storm, his fate seemed to have been quietly sealed by Mr. Wei's cold words, "Be prepared."