Chapter 993

Zhou Andong looked utterly relaxed, pacing slowly on stage as he listened to the thunderous applause, a faint smile curling at his lips.

Anyone who lived through the internet explosion era has seen or heard countless electrifying speeches by renowned figures.

He could stand here speaking for a full day and night, keeping every listener in a state of pure adrenaline.

When the applause faded, Zhou Andong walked to the edge of the stage, his expression turning solemn.

“After all I’ve said, there’s one thing I still feel ashamed about—donations.”

Huh?

Jian Zhengrong frowned. Zuo Qihua has donated thirty million U.S. dollars over the years—why are you attacking him on this? Aren’t you just inviting humiliation?

Many in the audience also realized this, thinking much the same as Jian Zhengrong. Some even believed Zhou Andong had gotten too cocky and was about to stumble by bringing up donations.

Zuo Qihua smiled—this time, his smile was mockery, pure contempt.

Suddenly, Zhou Andong bowed deeply to Zuo Qihua.

This startled Zuo Qihua and left everyone else stunned.

What’s this? Did he realize his earlier words were too harsh and is now apologizing with a bow?

That’s just too…

At that moment, Zhou Andong spoke: “Mr. Zuo is a renowned merchant and great philanthropist. Over the years, he has donated thirty million U.S. dollars to overseas elite universities—I sincerely admire him.”

This confused more and more people. What exactly are you trying to say?

Only Jian Qiu, Zhang Shenghui, and Wu Hongkang—who knew Zhou Andong well—understood he was digging a deep pit.

Zhou Andong waved his hand with humble regret: “I can’t compare to Mr. Zuo, a great philanthropist. I feel ashamed. But I’m just a small businessman who runs a modest trade.”

“My capacity is limited—I can only donate one jiao for every bottle of Jiang Xiaobai or Ice Red Tea sold. That way, small amounts add up.”

Only then did the crowd remember—he had announced this before. Given Jiang Xiaobai and Ice Red Tea’s sales over this period, he must have donated several million by now.

Zuo Qihua’s pupils shrank sharply; a terrible feeling suddenly rose in his chest.

Jian Qiu, Zhang Shenghui, and Wu Hongkang already knew what Zhou Andong was about to say.

All three watched him, eagerly anticipating the audience’s reaction.

“Though this method of donating accumulates slowly, it’s too slow.”

Zhou Andong smiled: “So I bit the bullet, emptied my pockets, scraped together twenty million U.S. dollars, and donated them to the Central Academy of Fine Arts.”

A roar erupted below, followed by a storm of murmurs.

Holy shit—Zhou Andong donated twenty million U.S. dollars to the Central Academy of Fine Arts?

Of everyone here, besides state-owned and centrally managed enterprises, who has assets reaching twenty million U.S. dollars?

It’s true: people compared to people bring death; goods compared to goods get thrown away.

Zhou Andong has already donated twenty million U.S. dollars, yet he’s still struggling to grow his business.

Only now did they realize—he wasn’t getting arrogant; he’d made a massive donation too.

More importantly, Zhou Andong donated twenty million U.S. dollars in one lump sum to a single school, while Zuo Qihua spread his thirty million over years.

After his shock, Jian Zhengrong’s face broke into a satisfied smile.

He never imagined Zhou Andong had donated so much to the Central Academy of Fine Arts.

Lu Qing sighed to Jian Zhengrong: “Zhengrong, I’m almost jealous of you—you’ve got a nephew-in-law who’s both talented and socially responsible.”

Jian Zhengrong smiled: “Leader, even if you’re jealous, it’s too late—your daughter’s already married. No chance left for you.”

Lu Qing chuckled, then shook his head: “Entrepreneurs like Zhou Andong, with social responsibility—we must support them strongly and give them every convenience.”

Zhou Andong looked at Zuo Qihua and said with sincere tone: “I can’t compare to Mr. Zuo—twenty million versus thirty million is a huge gap, so I didn’t dare publicize it.”

“After all, donating just this little amount—what’s there to boast about? If foreigners found out, wouldn’t they laugh at us for being unsophisticated? Unlike Mr. Zuo, who’s donated thirty million U.S. dollars over the years.”

“TV and newspapers constantly report on him, calling him a great philanthropist—I agree he deserves it. So I’ve resolved to work harder, to catch up to Mr. Zuo’s footsteps.”

“I don’t aim to surpass him—just to live without shame. Who are we to complain? We’re poor. Mr. Zuo looks down on our motherland—but as children, we can’t despise our own poor home, can we? If we don’t work hard to earn money, what else can we do? At the very least, I’ll donate another ten million U.S. dollars to domestic universities.”

Finally, Zhou Andong tore off all pretense, directly naming and shaming Zuo Qihua—slapping his face hard, loud and clear.

Zuo Qihua’s face turned from white to black, then to blue, then to purple—he felt as if Zhou Andong had just slapped him repeatedly.

The audience fell utterly silent—not a pin could drop. Zhou Andong’s words had shaken them to their core.

Seeing the silent hall, Zhou Andong was pleased with the effect he’d created.

“Finally, I urge certain people: chasing foreign ways is a disease—it must be cured.”

Zhou Andong placed the microphone on the podium and jumped offstage. Zhou Qianyi stood and gave him a tight embrace.

“Brother, you’re amazing.”

Zhou Andong patted Zhou Qianyi’s shoulder, then smiled warmly as Jian Qiu approached.

Zhou Qianyi released him and smiled: “Sister-in-law, I’m returning him to you.”

Jian Qiu also embraced Zhou Andong and whispered: “Husband, tonight I’ve got a surprise for you.”

Zhou Andong froze, then grinned: “Good!”

At that moment, thunderous applause erupted—far louder than before.

The gambling king’s daughter stood, pulled out a business card, and offered it to Zhou Andong with both hands: “Mr. Zhou, I hope we can collaborate someday.”

Zhou Andong accepted the card with both hands, politely replying: “If Miss He invests on the mainland, I’m certain we’ll have opportunities to work together.”

Other wealthy merchants from the three regions also wanted to meet Zhou Andong, but none were as eager as Miss He.

First, they had to consider Zuo Qihua’s feelings—he’d just been publicly humiliated, and they all moved in the same circles, seeing each other daily. No deep grudges existed; no need to offend him over this.

Second, the speech wasn’t over—this wasn’t the time for networking.

There were still two days left: tomorrow we tour enterprises in Guangdong Province, the day after is the symposium, and every evening there’s a banquet—plenty of time to talk with Zhou Andong. No need to rush now.

Jian Qiu pulled a sleek business card from her pocket. It read: Chairman Zhou Andong, Yugong Group, followed by a phone number.

Besides the office line, it listed a pager number—bought by Jian Qiu before coming to Yangcheng, and the card printed then.

She’d anticipated this exact scenario—without a card or a way to be reached instantly, she’d be useless.