Chapter 990

Zhuo Qihua jogged a few steps onto the stage and took the microphone from the host.

“My name is Zhuo Qihua. Some of you here may not know me, but most certainly do.”

As he spoke, he scanned the audience below, then smiled faintly.

“I was invited to attend this entrepreneur forum, but to be honest, I don’t believe in China’s reform and opening-up.”

The moment he finished speaking, not only did provincial and municipal leaders turn pale, but even the wealthy guests from Hong Kong, Macau, and Taiwan changed expression.

“But just now, Comrade He’s speech gave me a glimmer of hope for this so-called reform and opening-up.”

The audience’s expressions gradually improved, except Zhou Andong, who let out a cold laugh.

He remembered that in the early 2000s, Shanghai held some forum where all attendees were required to speak English and forbidden from using Chinese.

Think about how far they’d sunk into worshiping foreign things. Some people’s servility ran so deep in their bones that, despite being able to stand as free men and masters, they insisted on being foreign slaves.

Worse still, while they groveled before foreigners, they turned arrogant and condescending toward their own fellow Chinese with yellow skin and black eyes—and Zhuo Qihua was exactly that kind of person.

“Just now, Comrade He said the goal is to improve service efficiency and make enterprises feel valued—that’s good. But that alone is certainly not enough.

We must also raise the people’s standards. If a nation’s citizens lack character, that nation will struggle to develop and will never earn recognition from the Western world.

For example, last night, a man claiming to be a professor from some university approached me for money. He said his research project had been halted because the government hadn’t allocated funding.

Frankly, I despise people like him—come to me for money? Do I look like an idiot…?”

Qin Zhi nodded vigorously and chuckled: “Zhou Andong says you’re an idiot.”

“Over the years, I’ve donated thirty million U.S. dollars to Western universities. But I will never give a single penny to any Chinese university.

Because Chinese people can’t produce world-class research, they lack the soil for innovation, and especially with the intelligence of our own people, they can’t develop any high-tech.”

The audience erupted in uproar—even several Hong Kong businessmen turned black with anger, for they too had been insulted.

Because they had always considered themselves Chinese. Zhuo Qihua’s words had offended them all.

Did Zhuo Qihua not know this? Of course he knew—he also knew that businessmen care most about profit.

Even if you insulted him today, or even hit him, as long as the profit was great enough, they’d still cooperate tomorrow.

And in Guangdong Province, it’s even simpler: today I offend you, no problem—tomorrow I invest hundreds of millions, and you’ll still smile and welcome me.

So he had no qualms: I insulted you, humiliated you—so what?

He Jingyuan’s face remained cold, especially Lu Qing, whose expression darkened as if it could drip water.

Because it was he who led the delegation to Xiangjiang to inspect and invited Zhuo Qihua. He never imagined this man would cause trouble the moment he arrived.

Jian Qiu’s face turned ashen with rage; she gripped Zhou Andong’s hand tightly, her nails digging into his skin until it hurt.

“Wife, it’s not worth it,” Zhou Andong whispered. “Getting angry at a person like this—what’s the point? You’ll only hurt yourself.”

Jian Qiu took a deep breath: “A traitor who forgets his ancestors—this kind of scum deserves to be gunned down for half an hour.”

Zhou Andong had never seen Jian Qiu this furious before; he continued soothing her: “Don’t get angry. Just wait—watch how your man shuts him down.”

Jian Qiu nodded firmly: “Good. Shut him down. Shut him down until he can’t even take care of himself.”

Zhou Andong gave a light laugh: “People like Zhuo Qihua won’t listen to anything unless you cut them with real blades.”

At that moment, Wu Hongkang leaned over and whispered: “Could this guy be a foreign spy, sent here deliberately to stir up trouble?”

Zhou Andong whispered back: “Just a foreign slave. Don’t pay him any mind.”

Wu Hongkang nodded in understanding: “No wonder.”

Behind them, Qin Zhi patted Zhou Andong’s shoulder, stood up, and leaned close to his ear: “I can’t stand this guy. Want me to find a chance to beat him up?”

“Don’t act rashly,” Zhou Andong warned. “He’s famous overseas. He was invited here to this entrepreneur forum by Guangdong Province.

If anything happens to him here—even if you just slap him lightly—he’ll go back and twist the facts, exaggerate, and spread lies everywhere. That’ll cause huge problems for our investment and recruitment.”

“I know,” Qin Zhi muttered. “I was just venting.”

At this moment, Zhou Laoyezi’s face was grim; his hand resting on the armrest of his chair was visibly trembling.

“Grandpa!” Zhou Qianyi looked at him anxiously.

Zhou Laoyezi closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and waved his hand: “I’m fine.”

Jian Zhengrong’s expression was blank; he glanced toward Zhou Andong, then turned back to Zhuo Qihua on stage, his gaze distant.

Clearly, his attention wasn’t on the stage—he was lost in thought.

“The Chinese must learn from foreigners—not just their knowledge and technology, but their spirit. But while learning, we must also discard our own filth.

Otherwise, even if we master Western things, especially their spirit, we’ll become a bizarre, confused bunch…”

The man ranted on stage while the audience murmured in outrage. Many with even a shred of pride clenched their teeth in fury.

Of course, a few others fell into deep thought—perhaps they believed Zhuo Qihua had a point.

At that moment, Zhuo Qihua suddenly stopped speaking and stared darkly down at the audience.

No one knew what had happened; the murmurs vanished, and every eye turned to the stage.

Once the hall fell silent, Zhuo Qihua said: “While I’m speaking, could you at least show me some respect? Have a little decorum—don’t chat or talk.”

The venue grew even quieter, as if a pin dropping could be heard.

“I’m truly disappointed,” Zhuo Qihua growled, increasingly irritated. “Forget it. I won’t continue.”

The man’s temper flared—he threw the microphone onto the podium and stepped down.

The female host hurried forward, picked up the microphone, and said: “Please welcome…”

“Here I am!” Zhou Andong shouted, cutting her off. He rose and strode to the stage’s edge, pushed off with his right hand, and leapt up.

The female host stared at Zhou Andong, bewildered—she recognized him, of course, but he wasn’t the second guest; she hadn’t even announced him yet. Why was he up there?

“Give me the mic,” Zhou Andong extended his hand.

The female host looked helplessly toward the leaders below; He Jingyuan nodded.