Chapter 2833: Zheng Mingyu, Exhausted in Mind and Body

"You cannot go see Zhou Andong." Ye Zhen said: "Zhou Andong has already arrived in Yangcheng, and I will be there tomorrow afternoon as well. We will take action here soon."

Wu Hui is pursuing you, and he has no defenses against you—he would never suspect you are one of ours. So, this nail of yours must not be moved; you must stay in place, maintain the status quo, and it may yet play an unexpected role in the future.

If you go see Zhou Andong now, and if Wu Hui's people happen to see you, this nail of yours will lose its function. Moreover, you will also face retaliation from Wu Hui.

Liu Anrong said somewhat unwillingly: "Then when can I see Zhou Andong?"

"Wait until I arrive in Yangcheng tomorrow, see him, and then we'll talk." Ye Zhen said with a smile: "Don't worry—your little investment? He'd spill more than that from between his fingers. He'll agree."

Liu Anrong's eyes darted around as she said: "Sister Zhen, why don't you invest instead? I'll give you forty percent."

"Forget it!" Ye Zhen refused: "I don't understand this internet thing, but Zhou Andong will definitely be interested. You should still go find him."

"Alright!" Liu Anrong said helplessly: "Anyway, this matter isn't urgent. Even if we do it, it'll have to wait until next year, or even the year after."

"Then it's settled!" Ye Zhen hung up the phone.

Liu Anrong put down the phone, looked up, then stood up and walked around the bar to the lounge area, where she kicked her best friend with her foot: "What's so good about the newspaper? Let's go."

"Wait!" her best friend said, eyes still glued to the newspaper: "I've finished reading the news about Zhou Andong."

"About Zhou Andong?" Liu Anrong plopped down beside her friend, tilted her head to look at the newspaper—it was exactly the content of Zhou Andong's speech at the industry-academia-research symposium.

Three minutes later, both looked up simultaneously. Her best friend, eyes sparkling like tiny stars, said: "Although we don't have the qualifications to attend the conference in person, just reading Zhou Andong's speech in the newspaper is enough to make one's blood stir."

"Right!" her best friend said, leaning against Liu Anrong: "The Peugeot sales are running into trouble, and your father worries every day. Why not go see Zhou Andong? Maybe he can offer a solution."

Liu Anrong shook her head slightly: "Peugeot's sales difficulties have many causes, but the main responsibility lies with the French side—they're too arrogant. No matter what we propose, they reject it."

Saying this, Liu Anrong sighed helplessly: "Although we hold seventy-eight percent of the shares, we have no technical voice. The French side refuses to transfer model rights and refuses to invest in domestic R&D. The existing models have no competitiveness at all."

"Really, there's nothing we can do?" her best friend asked, her expression falling.

In the autumn of 1989, the first 505SX sedan rolled off the production line, igniting the sedan dream of Guangdong's people. Over the next three years, the 505SX's front emblem became the most proud sight on the streets of Yangcheng.

In just two years, market share surged to 16% nationwide, with annual sales of 12,000 units. The delivery wait for a Peugeot 505 stretched to half a year, and taxi drivers took pride in driving one.

The assembly line smoked with busyness—even the cafeteria ladies learned to say "fill up" in French. Yet, like morning dew, who could have imagined this glory would last only over two years? By the third year—1992—sales plummeted off a cliff.

First, the 505's domestic localization rate was under 30%, and even more critically, key components remained dependent on French imports, making costs impossible to reduce. High costs and poor adaptation were like an axe splitting heaven, cracking Peugeot's fate. Its price was nearly 30% higher than the Santana's.

Then came the French side's arrogance, which dealt Peugeot its most fatal blow: from the 505's launch, over three years, not a single updated model was released, ignoring consumer demand for air conditioning and comfort.

In contrast, the Santana—also a single model—through localized improvements, had firmly taken root in consumers' hearts. And then there was the price: because most of the 505's parts needed importing, its price was about 30% higher than the Santana's.

Her best friend also sighed: "The 505 was the pride of everyone in Yangcheng, but this pride lasted only three years—I truly feel unwilling to let it go."

"This isn't something we should worry about," Liu Anrong said, patting her friend's shoulder: "What I need now is to eat. Hurry up—I only had a bowl of porridge this morning and haven't eaten anything since."

"Come on, come on, come on!" her friend said, thinking of the clothes she'd taken a liking to, stood up, and pulled Liu Anrong out the door.

………………

Yangcheng Municipal Bureau!

Wu Jun held his lunch box, head down, eating, occasionally looking up to point at the meal box in front of Zheng Mingyu, speaking unclearly: "Chief Zheng, hurry up and eat—when you're done, we'll keep talking."

Wu Jun and Zheng Mingyu had not slept all night, but staying up late was routine for Wu Jun, especially during interrogations—the tougher the suspect, the more excited he got. Zheng Mingyu like this was the first he'd ever encountered; from last night until now, he'd remained in a state of excitement.

But Zheng Mingyu was different—after being tortured in the bathhouse for half a day, he then endured the worst beating he'd ever received since childhood. As a boy, he once peeked at a neighbor woman using the toilet, got caught, and even his father had never beaten him that badly.

Then he began worrying that his prostitution arrest would be exposed, and after being interrogated all night and all day—or rather, talked to all night and all day—he was utterly exhausted, both mentally and physically, tired, weak, and afraid.

Since he didn't go to work today, his superiors will surely ask, but won't press deeply. But if he doesn't go to work tomorrow either, things will get serious. After all, he's a bureau chief—his sudden disappearance would not go unnoticed by leadership. As long as someone checks even a little, the fact that he was caught for prostitution won't stay hidden.

"Burp!" Wu Jun let out a full belch, put down his lunch box, then picked up his teacup and gulped water with a gurgling sound: "Ah!"

Wu Jun put down the teacup, then belched again: "Chief Zheng, eat up—once you're full, we can keep talking."

Zheng Mingyu stared with bloodshot eyes, fixed unblinkingly on Wu Hui, looking terrifying.

Wu Jun acted as if he hadn't noticed, stood up, and opened Zheng Mingyu's lunch box: "Chief Zheng, this meal is an extra portion, and I personally paid to add braised pork and four-joy meatballs. If you don't eat it, you'll waste my sincerity."

Zheng Mingyu took a deep breath—this guy's willpower is also incredibly strong; otherwise, he couldn't have endured Wu Jun all night and day.

"Still the same thing—I can cooperate with giving a statement." Zheng Mingyu said firmly: "I'll pay the fine, but I won't let my family or unit come pick me up—I'll leave on my own."

"That doesn't follow procedure." Wu Jun sighed: "This is the municipal bureau—if I break procedure, I'll definitely be punished. Lightly, lose bonuses; severely, face criticism and reprimand."

"My salary was never high to begin with, and I still have to support my parents, wife, and children. If my bonus is cut, next month my parents and family might have to go half a month without enough to eat."

"If I'm criticized and reprimanded, it gets worse. I don't expect promotion, but at least my salary and bonuses won't rise for three years—I'll get nothing, and my parents, wife, and children will have to eat dirt and drink wind alongside me."

Saying this, Wu Jun looked at Zheng Mingyu with a pitiful expression: "Chief Zheng, just have pity on me—don't make things hard for me, okay?"