Bedside Negotiations

There was a three-second silence on the other end of the phone.

Three seconds felt like an eternity to Zheng Dong. He could hear his own heavy breathing, the dull thumping of his heart in his chest, and the faint dripping of the IV tube. The curtains in the ward were drawn, and only a bedside lamp was on, casting a sickly pale light on the walls.

"Mr. Zheng," Lin Feng's voice finally came through, still calm, showing no surprise or emotion, as if he were answering a regular sales call, "Are you feeling better?"

Zheng Dong gripped his phone tightly, his knuckles turning white. He hadn't expected the other person's first words to be like this.

"Thanks to you, I'm still alive," he said through gritted teeth.

"That's good," Lin Feng said. "What did you need me for?"

Zheng Dong took a deep breath, the oxygen mask still hanging around his neck, the cold plastic edge pressing against his skin. He tried to keep his voice steady, but the bitterness rising from deep within his chest still made his voice tremble. "Mr. Lin, let's not beat around the bush. Are you satisfied with Dongbei's current situation?"

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone, then Lin Feng let out a soft "heh," like a very faint, meaningless nasal sound.

"President Zheng," Lin Feng began, speaking calmly and deliberately, "Dongbei's current situation is entirely your own doing. From the moment you decided to use pre-made meals while advertising them as 'freshly made,' from the moment you pressured bloggers to delete their videos, from the moment you hired online trolls to attack me, from the moment you started this 'transparent kitchen' thing—every step was your own doing. What did I do? I simply ate a meal at a service area and told the truth."

"The truth?" Zheng Dong's tone suddenly rose, then plummeted again due to a sharp pain in his chest, becoming a hoarse, breathy voice. "Your one sentence, 'It's normal for the quality to be a little lower,' has ruined twenty years of my hard work! Do you know how many employees Dongbei has? Twenty-three thousand! Do you know how many families rely on Dongbei for their livelihood? Do you know..."

"I know." Lin Feng interrupted him, his voice carrying a hint of emotion for the first time—an extreme calmness, even a touch of indifference. "I know how many employees you have, I know how many stores you have, I know your revenue last year. But what does any of that have to do with me? What does it have to do with you deceiving customers with pre-made meals? What does it have to do with you threatening bloggers, harassing me, and even trying to use legal means to pressure people because of a single truth?"

Zheng Dong opened his mouth, wanting to refute, but found that his throat felt like it was blocked by something. The prepared arguments—about the company's difficulties, about the industry's unspoken rules, about the responsibility of supporting 20,000 people—suddenly became incredibly pale, even somewhat ridiculous, in the face of this young man's calm questioning.

He gasped for breath, white mist rising from his oxygen mask. "Fine, fine... even if you're right." He shifted his position, his voice weary and almost pleading. "Mr. Lin, even if Dongbei is wrong, we've already paid the price. Our stock price has halved, our stores are deserted, and we've become the laughingstock of the internet. Isn't that enough? You've vented your anger, you've gained the limelight, and now everyone online is praising your keen insight and condemning us as heartless, unscrupulous merchants. Can you stop now?"

"Stop?" Lin Feng seemed taken aback. "Did I do something that requires me to stop?"

"You..." Zheng Dong felt that dull pain return. He pressed his hand to his chest. "Are you determined to drive Dongbei to her death? What do you want? Money? Name your price."

A soft sound came from the other end of the phone, as if Lin Feng had switched hands to hold the phone. "Mr. Zheng, are you mistaken about something?" His tone carried a subtle hint of confusion, as if he were genuinely pondering a difficult question. "From beginning to end, I haven't done anything to Dongbei on my own initiative. It's you who have come knocking on our door time and time again. Sending lawyer's letters, hiring online trolls, sending people to follow us, harassing us with phone calls. And now, you're asking me what I want?"

He paused, then added, "I want you to leave me alone. Can you afford this price?"

Zheng Dong's face flushed red in the dim light, then quickly turned deathly pale. A wave of humiliation washed over him like an icy tide. He had lived for over fifty years, building this empire from scratch. When had he ever been treated with such a tone and attitude? And the other person was just a twenty-something, unknown junior legal assistant!

"Lin Feng!" he practically roared, his voice so loud it hurt his own eardrums. "Don't push your luck! You think you've won? Let me tell you, even if Dongbei falls, I'll still make you suffer! I have plenty of ways to deal with this!"

"For example?" Lin Feng's tone remained calm. "Like before, sending some shady characters to loiter around the law firm? Or continuing to make harassing phone calls? Or, this time, are you planning to do something even dirtier?"

Zheng Dong was speechless. He had indeed considered even "dirtier" methods, but those methods were beneath him and couldn't be discussed over the phone. He realized that he had been at a disadvantage from the very beginning of this conversation. The other party was like a cold stone; no matter how angry, threatening, or even weak he was, he couldn't stir up the slightest ripple.

He forced himself to calm down. Anger wouldn't solve anything. He was Zheng Dong, the founder of Dongbei, an entrepreneur who had weathered countless storms.

"Mr. Lin," he spoke again, his voice regaining a deliberate calmness, though his heart was already churning with turmoil, "We don't need to go that far. I'm calling today with the sincerity to resolve this issue. You say you haven't done anything proactively, fine, I believe you. But those words still came from your mouth. Now that things have escalated so much, Dongbei needs a way out, and you need to clarify things. Here's what you'll do: record a video, it's very simple. Just say that you were just speaking casually at the service area and didn't know the true situation of Dongbei, that Dongbei's ingredients are fresh, and their processing methods are rigorous. Send it out, and I'll give you one million. Cash, not consecutive serial numbers, it'll be in your account immediately."

After saying this, Zheng Dong held his breath. One million was no small sum for a young man who had just started working. It was enough to buy a car and make a down payment. He was betting that Lin Feng would be tempted.

There was silence on the other end of the phone.

Zheng Dong's heart leaped into his throat. He seemed to see a glimmer of hope.

Then, he heard Lin Feng chuckle softly.

It wasn't a sneer, nor a mocking laugh; it was simply laughter born of genuine amusement.

"Mr. Zheng," Lin Feng said, "Do you think money can solve all problems?"

"One million isn't enough? Two million?" Zheng Dong said eagerly, "Or do you want something else? A job? I can arrange for you to get into a better law firm, and even offer you a legal counsel position at Dongbei, with an annual salary..."

"President Zheng," Lin Feng interrupted him again, the subtle confusion in his voice even more pronounced, "What facts do you want me to clarify? Clarify that Dongbei isn't a pre-prepared food restaurant? But you are. From the production records of the central kitchen to the delivery slips of the cold chain logistics, to the rhetoric in your internal training—do I need to lay out the chain of evidence for you piece by piece?"

Zheng Dong was struck dumb, frozen on the hospital bed. A chain of evidence? How could he know? That stuff was all on the company's intranet, with strict access control...

"Where... where did you get your evidence?" His voice began to tremble.

"That's not important," Lin Feng said. "What's important is that you still think the problem lies with what I said. Mr. Zheng, wake up. Dongbei's problem has never been what I said, but what you did and what lies you told to cover it up. You think suppressing one blogger and forcing me to apologize will make this all go on? The internet remembers, and customers aren't stupid. Even without me, there would be Li Feng, Wang Feng, Zhang Feng, saying the same thing in some service area or shopping mall. Can you suppress them all?"

Zheng Dong felt a wave of dizziness, and the scenery in front of him began to spin. He instinctively grabbed the bed railing, his fingernails digging into the cold metal.

"So... so you did it on purpose?" he hissed. "You knew from the beginning what that sentence would cause?"

"I know nothing." Lin Feng's tone finally showed a hint of impatience. "All I know is that the fish was frozen, the meat was pre-cooked, and the sauce was suspiciously strong. I told the truth. As for everything that happened afterward—your reactions, the blogger's capitulation, the online attacks, and that ridiculous 'transparent kitchen' performance—President Zheng, that was all your own choice. To be honest, when I saw you holding your open day, I was stunned. I didn't expect anyone to jump into the fire themselves, and not content with that, they had to pour oil on it."

"You!" Zheng Dong's blood rushed to his head, and his vision went black. He seemed to see the large surveillance screen, the scissors cutting open the packaging bag, and the netizens' mockery surging in like a tsunami. Those images intertwined with Lin Feng's calm voice, turning into a sharp ringing in his ears.

"At first, I couldn't even be bothered to pay attention," Lin Feng continued, as if stating a fact unrelated to himself. "It was you who came knocking on my door again and again. I was originally planning to let this matter pass. But you don't seem to understand that some things, the more you try to cover them up, the faster they rot. You ask me if I'm satisfied? President Zheng, I have no satisfaction or dissatisfaction. I'm just a little... surprised. Surprised that a company that has been around for twenty years could make so many foolish choices when faced with a crisis."

Every word was like a dull knife, slowly cutting into Zheng Dong's nerves. A foolish choice. Yes, looking back now, every step from deleting the video was terribly wrong. But at the time, he only felt that it was the only way to defend Dongbei and the culmination of his life's work.

"Enough!" Zheng Dong roared, his voice broken and hoarse. "What do you want?! What will it take for you to let Dongbei go?!"

On the other end of the phone, Lin Feng seemed to sigh softly.

"Mr. Zheng, you still don't understand. I never caught Dongbei, so how can you say 'let go'? What caught Dongbei was your own lies, the fire you started, the knife you stabbed yourselves in. And I, I merely said 'It's a bit hot here' when the fire was just starting."

Zheng Dong was trembling all over, not from anger, but from a chill and helplessness that seeped into his bones. He suddenly realized that all his anger, threats, and inducements were like eggs thrown at an invisible wall in front of this young man, leaving only ugly stains and having no effect whatsoever.

The other party didn't care about Dongbei's life or death, his threats, or even the million.

What did he care about? Zheng Dong wondered blankly. What did he really want?

"Lin Feng," Zheng Dong's voice had completely lost its strength, only exhaustion and a last shred of struggle remained, "Even if Dongbei is wrong, she doesn't deserve to die. Give me, give Dongbei a chance. You want an apology video, I'll give you money, I'll give you a future. Or... or just tell me, what conditions do you want to let this go? As long as I can do it..."

"I don't want anything," Lin Feng's voice came clearly and coldly. "I just want you to leave me alone. Also, based on your earlier threat—about how you wanted to 'skin me alive'—I reserve the right to pursue legal action against you. That's all, Mr. Zheng. Take good care of yourself."

"Wait!" Zheng Dong shouted urgently, "Aren't you afraid...?"

"What are you afraid of?" Lin Feng's tone finally turned cold. "Afraid of your shady methods? Mr. Zheng, I advise you to save your breath. If you still want to use those underhanded tactics, I'm ready. But I must remind you, next time you call, you'd better have your lawyer prepare a complaint. That is, if you still have the money to hire a lawyer."

"Are you threatening me?!" Zheng Dong's anger was reignited, mixed with despair, making his voice sound sharp and distorted.

"Interpret it however you like." Lin Feng's voice returned to its initial calm, even tinged with a hint of weariness. "Goodbye, Mr. Zheng. I hope this is the last time we speak."

"Lin Feng! You dare hang up on me?! Let me tell you, I have plenty of ways to make sure you can't stay in S City! I know people..."

Beep-beep-beep-

The busy tone rang out, crisp and efficient.

Zheng Dong remained frozen, holding his phone. The screen went dark, reflecting his distorted, pale face. The ward was deathly silent, broken only by the rhythmic, indifferent beeping of the monitor, a reminder that his heart was still beating.

A few seconds later, he slammed his phone hard against the opposite wall!

"Bang!"

The phone exploded against the wall, scattering fragments everywhere.

"Ah--!!!"

A low growl, suppressed to the extreme yet filled with despair and rage, squeezed out from deep within his throat. He clutched his hair, his body trembling violently from extreme anger and helplessness.

Why? On what grounds?

He struggled for twenty years, from a street stall to a national chain, enduring countless hardships and toil. He finally achieved what he has today, only to have it all ruined by a single sentence from a young upstart, by a few damned words of truth?

He was not reconciled! He would rather die than accept it!

The ward door was suddenly pushed open, and the secretary and nurse rushed in.

"Chairman Zheng!"

"What's wrong with the Patient? Quickly, hold him down!"

Zheng Dong suddenly raised his head, his bloodshot eyes fixed on his secretary, his gaze like that of a dying beast.

"Get me... contact Old Liu in N Province." He spoke slowly and deliberately, his voice so hoarse it was almost inaudible, "Tell him... do it as we said before! Do it immediately! I want that Lin Feng... to pay the price!"

The secretary looked at Zheng Dong's contorted face, then at the wreckage of the phone on the ground, her face turning deathly pale, her lips trembling as she said, "Chairman Zheng, please calm down. The doctor said you can't take any more shocks..."

"Go!" Zheng Dong roared, spitting as he shouted, "Go now! Or get the hell out of here!"

The secretary trembled in fright, dared not say another word, hurriedly nodded, and backed out of the ward.

The nurse tried to put the oxygen tube back on Zheng Dong, but he pushed her away.

He leaned against the headboard, his chest heaving, staring intently at the ceiling. The stark white light stung his eyes.

Lin Feng's last words echoed repeatedly in his mind:

"What caught Dongbei was your own lies, the fire you started, the knife you stabbed yourselves in."

knife...

Zheng Dong suddenly tugged at the corners of his mouth, revealing a smile that was even uglier than a grimace.

Yes, those worst stabs, it seems like he really did stab himself.

But so what?

Even if he was the one who caused it, he'll drag the person who first said "It's a bit hot here" down with him to hell!