Behind him, Fang Hui froze in astonishment.
The teenager’s gentle tone was filled with enticement: "Rather than both sides suffering and letting others gain the upper hand, why don’t we each take a step back? There’s no need to squabble over temporary advantages. President Ding is simply too hot-tempered. The incident from last time happened so long ago, I’ve already forgotten about it. Yet, President Ding still remembers—quite remarkable, really. Fang Hui, you’re a smart person. You understand what the optimal choice is."
Fang Hui thought to herself, this kid makes a valid point.
His commercial value is enormous—he’s practically a winning lottery ticket. Even if someone were to be nurtured later on, it’s unlikely they could produce another Rong Xianning.
He will undoubtedly bring immense benefits to the company—given the current momentum, there’s no question about it.
What’s more, this kid is clever. Cleverness is a double-edged sword—it can hurt one’s allies but is an exceptional weapon against outsiders.
President Ding has always been a dictator, never tolerating being contradicted. It’s been two months now, and she still hasn’t moved on from that incident.
The company doesn’t belong solely to her—it has numerous shareholders. She herself is merely one of them.
To abandon a guaranteed profit for the sake of her pride—isn’t that like letting a cooked duck fly away?
Fang Hui began to feel some dissatisfaction towards President Ding but quickly became alert, warily staring at the teenager across the way.
This kid is truly dangerous—just a few words and he managed to sow discord between her and President Ding. Original content can be found at NoveI[F]ire.net
Yet, there is indeed some reason in his words.
Fang Hui fell into a brief silence.
"You’ve followed President Ding for years—it’s only natural to think from her perspective. But the business world is ever-changing, and let’s not forget how many competitors President Ding has offended over the years with her strong-arm tactics. Those people, seizing opportunities to muddy the waters—if they step on me, aren’t they stepping on President Ding as well? If you, Fang Hui, can’t see this clearly, then as the PR director, you’re nothing but an empty title."
The teenager’s tone was openly mocking.
Fang Hui shuddered, snapping awake.
The speed of the fermenting public opinion—aside from the company’s lack of intervention—was undeniably fueled by rival firms stirring the pot.
President Ding, in a moment of indignation, disregarding the company’s interests, had played an utterly foolish move.
Fang Hui took a deep look at the teenager’s back.
Slender and thin, yet standing immovably like a mountain.
How could such a shrewd mind belong to a thirteen-year-old?
Suddenly, Fang Hui felt a cold shiver run down her spine.
"I’ll help persuade President Ding, but you’d better understand your limits. This is a one-time thing—don’t expect it again."
With that, she turned and quickly walked away from the dormitory.
As she walked, she made a phone call: "Release all the marketing accounts. Also, keep a close watch on all negative narratives against Rong Xianning."
Rong Xianning raised an eyebrow, the corners of his lips curling into a mocking smile.
The bustling world is driven by gain; its chaos stirred by the pursuit of profit.
He would never let his fate rest in someone else’s hands.
Error messages popped up when he tried transferring funds—his bank card had insufficient balance.
Rong Xianning furrowed his brows, fell silent for a moment, and dialed a number.
"Mr. Wang, I need to withdraw a year’s worth of living expenses in advance."
The other party hesitated: "Xiao Rong, uh, this needs President Ding’s approval. If she doesn’t agree..."
The teenager’s fingers lightly tapped against the table as he replied coolly, "You can try calling Fang Hui."
Fang Hui was Ding Meng’s right-hand woman; her actions mirrored President Ding’s intentions.
Ten minutes later, Rong Xianning’s phone received a transfer notification: six thousand yuan.
The teenager curved his lips slightly, his gaze cold as ice.
Back then, that couple sold him for five million yuan. The initial contract signed him up for twenty years—no salary, just a monthly five thousand yuan for living expenses. It could be said that they took advantage of his youth and naivety, exploiting him to the extreme.
Of course, the greatest responsibility lay with the Rong couple—they were the ones who signed the papers: five million yuan for a twenty-year buy-out of Rong Xianning.
As a minor, Rong Xianning’s signature held no legal weight. Only his guardians—the Rong couple—had such authority.
Later, Rong Xianning caused an uproar and got the contract revised. But he knew that if Ding Meng refused to acknowledge it, without ratification from the legal representative, that contract would hold no validity.
The company personnel continued treating him according to the terms of the original contract.
Rong Xianning pressed his lips together. The road ahead was difficult—he couldn’t afford to back down.
At this thought, just as he was about to complete the transfer, Feng Cheng suddenly rushed inside, visibly excited: "Aning, check online—there’s been a reversal!"
Rong Xianning frowned slightly. He disliked going online; whether people praised or berated him, it made little difference.
Feng Cheng slapped his shoulder enthusiastically, shoving his phone toward him with the other hand, grinning: "Aning, you’re amazing! You’ve got such incredible fans—they’ve gone and solved the trouble for you. You’re really lucky."
Rong Xianning froze, instinctively raising his head to look at the phone.