A Public Exit

The phone screen is small, and the lighting isn't good enough.

The camera was so close that it captured Zheng Dong's bloodless face, sunken eyes, chapped lips, and glaring white hair at his temples in perfect detail.

He leaned against the hospital bed, with the stark white wall and pale blue curtains behind him. He wore a blue and white striped hospital gown, the collar slightly loose, revealing his bony collarbone. The plastic tube of the oxygen mask was still hanging around his neck, but he wasn't wearing it.

He wasn't wearing makeup, there was no lighting, and he hadn't even fixed his hair. He just stared straight at the camera, his eyes slightly out of focus, but he tried hard to keep them straight.

The video is only one minute and seventeen seconds long.

For the first five seconds, he silently looked at the camera, as if gathering his strength, or perhaps confirming that he really intended to do it. Then, he spoke, his voice hoarse, dry from prolonged silence and the torment of illness, but each word was enunciated clearly and slowly:

"I am Zheng Dong Zheng Dong, from Dongbei Catering."

He paused, his Adam's apple bobbing laboriously.

"I was wrong."

Dongbei was wrong.

Another pause. Longer still. He seemed to be recalling something, or fighting against some kind of physiological resistance. His chest rose and fell slightly, and his breathing, amplified by the phone's Mike in the quiet ward, became a heavy, noisy panting.

"We lied," he continued, his eyes still fixed on the camera, but his gaze was empty, as if he were reading a verdict that had nothing to do with him. "Dongbei used pre-prepared dishes. They used frozen pre-packaged meals delivered from a central kitchen. But we advertised them as 'fresh ingredients, cooked to order.' This is deception. We lied to all our customers who trusted us, to everyone who supported Dongbei."

"We made a mistake." His speech quickened slightly, but his voice became drier and more strained. "Our management was a complete mess. The kitchen was unclean, fire exits were blocked, employee health certificates were expired, records didn't match, food storage temperatures weren't up to standard... a whole host of problems. We only cared about opening the store, only cared about making money, and neglected the most basic things, food safety, customer health, and the lives of our employees. This is dereliction of duty. It's an unforgivable dereliction of duty."

He took a deep breath, a movement that seemed to aggravate the injury in his chest, causing his brow to furrow deeply, but he quickly forced himself to relax. He lowered his head slightly, avoiding the camera for a moment, before raising it again.

"As chairman and founder, all the mistakes are my fault alone. I should bear all the responsibility."

"Therefore, today, I announce my resignation as Chairman of Dongbei Catering and from all management positions. From this day forward, Dongbei's affairs have nothing to do with me anymore. I will no longer manage or inquire about them."

"As for the Dongbei brand..." He tugged at the corners of his mouth, trying to force a smile, but the smile was more like a grimace, and it crumbled instantly. "It's already dirty. Dirty by me, by us. Whether it can be cleaned in the future, and how to clean it, is something for the next generation to consider. I just want to say... I'm sorry."

He spoke the last three words very softly and slowly. Then, looking at the camera, he slowly but deeply bowed his head, remaining motionless in a bowing posture.

The video feed stopped at the top of his graying head and the jagged back of his neck.

Ten seconds.

For a full ten seconds, he remained bent over, head bowed, like a stiff sculpture.

Then, the screen went black.

The video was posted at 8 PM by a newly registered Weibo account with no followers, named "A Sinner." There was no paid promotion, and it wasn't linked to any trending topics. The title was simply two words: "I'm sorry."

At first, it sank into the sea like a pebble, without a sound.

But a minute later, a financial blogger with millions of followers reposted it, with the caption. "Dongbei Zheng Dong apologized late at night and announced his resignation. This bow lasted ten seconds."

The number of reposts began to grow exponentially.

Two minutes later, another well-known media personality reposted. "I watched it three times. No press releases, no teleprompter, no team packaging. It's just an old man in a hospital bed admitting he was wrong, that he messed up the company, and then saying 'I'm sorry.' My feelings are complicated."

Five minutes later, the video link began to flood various WeChat groups and Moments.

Ten minutes later, # Zheng Dong # suddenly appeared at number seventeen on Weibo's trending topics list.

Twenty minutes later, they surged to fifth place.

Half an hour later, we reached the top and took first place.

The trending topic was followed by a dark red "Explosive" character.

The comment section exploded.

The initial tens of thousands of comments were almost entirely sarcastic and angry:

["Now you know you're wrong? Why didn't you say so earlier?"] 120,000 likes.

["Crocodile tears. So much money was swindled, so many people were harmed, and an 'I'm sorry' is all it takes?"] 80,000 likes.

["Resign? Just try to shirk responsibility and run away! The tax audit is still on its way!"] 70,000 likes.

["The video looks pretty pitiful, is it a staged act to gain sympathy?"] 50,000 likes.

But soon, dissenting voices began to emerge.

A user claiming to be a "former Dongbei employee" posted a long article. "I worked at Dongbei for five years, rising from a waiter to a store manager. To be honest, Chairman Zheng wasn't bad to his subordinates; the salary was above average in the industry, and he paid all the required insurance. But he was too impatient, too eager to expand, and was held hostage by capital and expansion. The central kitchen and pre-prepared meals were all his decisions; he said it was the trend, it was about efficiency. The subordinates tried to persuade him, but it was no use. He bears responsibility for how things have turned out, but it's not entirely his fault. Seeing him like this leaves me feeling uneasy."

This comment went viral, sparking a heated debate in the replies. Some said, "Get out, you apologists," while others said, "Indeed, the boss has it tough."

One ordinary netizen commented. "My dad used to be a chef. He said that in the catering industry, wanting to insist on cooking food to order and also wanting to open hundreds of stores is inherently a paradox. Zheng Dong took a detour, but at least he admitted it in the end. He's better than those who stubbornly refuse to admit it and still think they did nothing wrong even after going bankrupt."

Another netizen said, "After watching the video, I felt inexplicably sad. A 20-year-old company collapsed just like that. His final bow, lasting ten seconds, felt like he was sacrificing a lifetime of pride."

Public opinion began to diverge.

Someone continued to curse, "What a load of rubbish! He deserves it! Those customers who ate the unclean food are the ones who are truly miserable!"

However, some people said, "One thing at a time. Food safety should be punished and judged. But his apology at least shows he acknowledged it. That's better than some celebrities who send lawyer's letters after cheating."

The focus of the discussion gradually shifted from "how bad Dongbei is" to "why a company has come to this point," "where are the boundaries of the founder's responsibility," and "the predicament and way out for the catering industry."

Dongbei's official Weibo reposted the apology Weibo forty-five minutes after the video was released. The accompanying text was only one sentence. "Received. We respect Mr. Zheng Dong's personal decision. The company's management will make adjustments as soon as possible and initiate a comprehensive rectification."

Almost simultaneously, Dongbei's official website and WeChat account released a formal announcement:

"In view of the severe challenges the company is facing recently and the need for internal adjustments, the Board of Directors has decided, after deliberation:"

1. We accept Mr. Zheng Dong's request to resign from his positions as Chairman of the Board and all other posts.

2. Complete withdrawal from the S Province market, effective immediately, and commencement of closure and asset disposal procedures for all stores in S Province.

Third, a special rectification team has been established to conduct a thorough investigation and rectification of other stores nationwide. In the future, pre-prepared dishes will be clearly labeled and subject to public supervision.

IV. Mr. Qian xx is appointed as Acting Chairman of the Board to oversee all company operations.

The announcement was worded officially, calmly, and without emotion. However, the words "complete withdrawal from S Province" still struck like a thunderbolt in the catering industry and the capital market.

Withdrawing from a province! Closing all stores! This is a drastic measure, a complete admission of defeat.

Financial media outlets immediately followed with headlines: "Dongbei Cuts Off Arm to Survive, Announces Withdrawal from S Province Market!" "A Brave Cut or a Dead End? Dongbei Makes Emergency Dividend!" "Zheng Dong Apologizes and Resigns, Dongbei Significantly Retreats Strategically!"

The capital market reacted swiftly. Despite already having bottomed out, Dongbei's stock price symbolically dipped further in after-hours trading. Online stock forums were filled with lamentations, occasionally interspersed with comments like "Should have withdrawn long ago" and "S Province is a quagmire, the sooner the better."

Lin Feng Apartment.

Lü Yi slumped on the sofa, clutching her phone, her fingers flying across the screen as she muttered to herself, "Tsk tsk tsk, 300,000 comments... Wow, this one's really harsh... Hey, this one makes some sense..."

He suddenly shoved his phone at Lin Feng: "Boss, look! Someone's saying you have powerful connections, you're a hidden tycoon, and you've completely crushed Dongbei!"

Lin Feng was reading an encrypted report sent by K, a preliminary assessment of Dongbei's asset liquidation. He glanced at Lü Yi's phone screen, which displayed a long commentary, analyzing the situation meticulously. It said that the timing and intensity of the investigation into Dongbei were too coincidental, suggesting that a mastermind was behind it, pointing directly to "that mysterious guy at the service area."

"Boring," Lin Feng said, turning his gaze away.

"What's got you bored?" Lü Yi chuckled. "They're quite right! But boss, Zheng Dong's apology video was really pathetic. Look at his face, he looked like a ghost. That last bow, I counted, it was a full ten seconds, he didn't move an inch. Do you think he really knows he was wrong?"

Lin Feng didn't answer immediately. He closed his laptop and walked to the window. The city was still brightly lit under the night sky, and advertisements were playing on a huge LED screen on the exterior wall of a shopping mall in the distance. Dongbei's advertisements used to be there too.

"He knows he's lost," Lin Feng said slowly, "But not necessarily that he knows he's wrong. At least, not entirely."

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"He knew he couldn't win, knew the company was doomed, knew that if he didn't back down, he might end up in jail too. So he apologized, resigned, and cut ties. It was a calculation, a loss-cutting measure, an admission of defeat." Lin Feng turned to look at Lü Yi. "But 'being wrong' is another matter. 'Being wrong' means that deep down he admits that he went astray from the beginning, that those lies shouldn't have been told, and those bottom lines shouldn't have been crossed. Do you think he's even thinking about that now?"

Lü Yi scratched his head. "It seems... no. He's almost dead."

"So," Lin Feng looked out the window again, "A crocodile may shed tears because of pain, fear, or having nowhere else to go. But a crocodile that cries is still a crocodile."

Lü Yi pondered for a moment, then clicked his tongue. "Brilliant. But boss, is this matter... really over? He apologizes, resigns, and that's it?"

"What else can we do?" Lin Feng retorted. "Kill him? Kill his whole family? Dongbei is already bankrupt, its brand is ruined, its stores in S Province are about to close, its national business is shrinking dramatically, his personal wealth has shrunk by more than half, and he will never be able to hold his head up in the industry again. That's enough."

Lü Yi curled her lip. "He got off easy."

Lin Feng didn't reply. He took out his phone, which displayed a message from Zhou Wenyuan sent a few minutes earlier. "The middleman has contacted you again. Zheng Dong wants to meet as soon as possible, and he's being very humble. Shall we meet?"

Lin Feng replied, "You arrange the time and place. Tell him it's just a meeting, a meal. Don't do anything else useless."

"Clear."

Lin Feng put down his phone and sat back down on the sofa. Lü Yi was still enthusiastically scrolling through the comments, occasionally uttering a funny one.

"Boss, someone said they're going to open a ' Xibei ' restaurant on the original Dongbei site, specializing in freshly cooked dishes. It's bound to be a hit! Hahaha!"

"Boss, some people are saying Zheng Dong should go to a temple to practice Buddhism and cleanse himself of his sins..."

"Boss..."

Lin Feng closed his eyes.

All I could hear was Lü Yi's chattering voice, and the faint hustle and bustle of the city in the distance.

Apology, resignation, delisting.

The farce is finally coming to an end.

But some things, once broken, are broken forever.

Just like at the end of that video, Zheng Dong bent over deeply for a full ten seconds.

It's easy to bend down.

It will be difficult to straighten up again.