What do people chase in society?
Nothing but face.
Even an old hand like Wen Dongrong cares about face, and young Sister Xi isn’t immune either. Facing Deng Yaomei’s admiring gaze, Sister Xi nodded stiffly:
“No need to talk about ‘consulting,’ we’re all improving together.”
The shareholders of Shrimp King were all top students from Rongcheng’s key schools. Yang Xi’s high school dropout education didn’t hold up, but in Deng Yaomei’s eyes, it was already far more learned than her own.
The sincere admiration of an honest person was genuine, putting Yang Xi on a pedestal.
Deng Yaomei, with her earnest nature, was also incredibly proactive. During lunch break that day, she picked up a workbook and asked Yang Xi for help.
It was a math algebra problem.
Individually, Yang Xi recognized the numbers and symbols, but put together, the problem knew her, but she didn’t know the problem.
Luckily, Sister Xi was thick-skinned and quickly changed the subject to distract Deng Yaomei.
Wen Ying’s original goal in starting the company was to standardize operations. The seasoning for crayfish and spicy hotpot bases could no longer rely on manual mixing. Shrimp King couldn’t afford a processing plant or production line yet, so they had to outsource to factories for now.
Wen Ying was never worried about the recipe leaking.
It’s laughable to think a major restaurant chain could succeed solely on a secret recipe. Even high-value pharmaceutical products get imitated—any recipe can be cracked with enough effort.
Fast food chains like KFC and McDonald’s taste different abroad and in China. Staying true to the original flavor matters, but adapting to local tastes is just as crucial. For a spicy Sichuan-style restaurant chain like Shrimp King, opening in other regions naturally requires slight flavor adjustments.
The key is how to adjust, and there needs to be a unified standard.
For example, stores in Modu would need to tone down the spiciness, something Wen Ying had to consider.
Currently, Shrimp King only had chains in Modu and Rongcheng. Standardizing flavors in Rongcheng was easy, but Modu required Yang Xi to personally deliver sample seasonings, gauge local customers’ feedback, and bring the data back to Rongcheng for analysis.
Wen Ying had long planned this, but previously lacked the manpower. Now, with the company established, someone had to take charge of this.
Qin Yi was willing to franchise Shrimp King, with the fee rising from 50,000 to 60,000—not just for the brand name. Shrimp King’s headquarters had to provide such services for franchisees. Qin Yi might pay up due to personal ties, but other franchisees might not. If Qin Yi didn’t know Wen Ying and her group, after successfully opening a Shrimp King, he could easily open new stores in Modu under names like “Crab King” or “Fish King,” skipping the franchise fee altogether.
Qin Yi didn’t do that, but others might. Wen Ying needed to strengthen ties between franchises and headquarters.
Developing new dishes annually, establishing unified training systems, and ensuring every franchise used standardized ingredients—Yang Xi currently lacked the vision to oversee the big picture. As she said, she’d work as hard as her salary demanded. She didn’t yet grasp what Wen Ying meant by “management trainee” and lacked the drive to learn proactively.
But with Deng Yaomei, the earnest newcomer, Sister Xi cursed inwardly. To save face, she had to pick up her books again.
Deng Yaomei was self-studying junior high material.
Yang Xi recalled what she was doing in junior high.
Oh, probably busy recruiting underlings and staking out territory, her influence just spreading beyond school, walking with swagger every day—no wonder the math problem recognized her, but she didn’t recognize it.
A business trip was a good excuse, saving Sister Xi from embarrassment.
But a trip wasn’t an escape abroad; she’d be back in a few days. Yang Xi thought it over and dug out her junior high textbooks to bring to Modu.
Though Yang Hong’an was a scrap collector, the Yang family cherished Yang Xi’s textbooks. Her elementary school books were still kept by Yang Hong’an, who was thrilled to hear Yang Xi needed them.
“Grandpa will help you find them!”
Yang Xi’s junior high textbooks still had their covers. Flipping one open, she was dumbfounded.
Good grief, not a single note, it was like a brand-new book!
Yang Xi studied the math book and was instantly lost.
She remembered junior high math being easy. Back then, she didn’t need notes or homework, just listened in class and passed exams. Otherwise, how could she have gotten into high school? Yang Xi always knew she wasn’t dumb—she was even a bit clever. There were plenty of delinquent girls at school, so why was she the boss?
But knowledge fades. One year without study, you retain 70%; two years, 50%; three years, and you’re strangers.
So when Deng Yaomei asked her that question, she couldn’t solve it. Opening the math book didn’t help either.
…This was tricky.
Yang Xi was stressed.
The next day, she secretly bought some junior high study guides at a bookstore. The covers claimed they were teacher-endorsed. If they were useless, Sister Xi wanted to hunt down those “expert” authors!
Yang Xi, who resisted Wen Ying’s management, was tamed by the honest Deng Yaomei—truly, one thing subdues another.
While Yang Xi was off to Modu with study guides, Li Zhentao invited Wen Ying to Tianjiao Film.
Turns out, Zhang the screenwriter’s script was ready to start filming.
It wasn’t supposed to be this urgent—Lunar New Year wasn’t even over—but Hunan TV’s antics changed things. The variety show Li Mengjiao participated in aired, and while Yuan Fenghui had high hopes, the broadcast was a huge letdown!
Li Mengjiao had a natural flair for variety shows, which Yuan Fenghui noticed during recording.
The show had high ratings and could’ve boosted Li Mengjiao’s popularity, helping her album sales. Though her promotional channels weren’t as strong as Xu Mei’s, her fans were dedicated. Pre-year data showed her album sales lagging behind Xu Mei’s, but now they were catching up. At this rate, another month might see her match Xu Mei!
Yuan Fenghui never saw Xu Mei as Li Mengjiao’s rival, but with albums released simultaneously and Xu Mei’s heavier promotion, Li Mengjiao catching up and surpassing Xu Mei would be a slap in the face to Xu Mei, Professor Fang, and others.
But when the show aired, Li Mengjiao’s favorable moments were cut to pieces. Instead of showcasing her charm, they smeared her.
The same line, said in one context, could be bold and likable; in another, it became a low-EQ blunder.
This wasn’t gaining fans—it was attracting haters!
In contrast, Xu Mei’s scenes were kept advantageous. In interactions between Li Mengjiao and Xu Mei, where Li Mengjiao was more open and engaged while Xu Mei was slow and reserved, the final cut made Li Mengjiao seem aggressive and Xu Mei gracious.
Perfect!
Yuan Fenghui turned off the TV and asked Manager Guan what was going on.
Manager Guan dodged responsibility, “The company takes the lion’s share of Li Mengjiao’s album profits. Even if I wanted to push her to sign, I wouldn’t do something that hurts our interests. It’s probably something Young Master Cao did. Young lovers get competitive, and I didn’t anticipate these rich kids’ games.”
Manager Guan denied it, pinning it on Young Master Cao.
Yuan Fenghui didn’t buy it.
She knew the entertainment industry’s tricks. With Manager Guan’s ties to Hunan TV, he surely saw the edited footage before airing.
It was fine if Manager Guan wanted to promote Xu Mei—business is about profit.
But stepping on Li Mengjiao was unacceptable.
Though Li Mengjiao hadn’t signed with the company, they had a joint album deal. At most, they could withhold promotional resources from her, but taking back what was promised… Manager Guan was so short-sighted, chasing petty gains.
Did he think Xu Mei alone could keep the company fed as a cash cow?
Yuan Fenghui had planned to tolerate it, but Manager Guan’s actions reminded her of her old employer—not a pleasant memory. Working with fools was unbearable!
“Li Mengjiao won’t sign with the company.”
The angrier Yuan Fenghui was, the calmer her tone.
Manager Guan, not grasping her temperament, urged her not to act impulsively.
“Once she signs, the company will give her resources no worse than Xu Mei’s. Didn’t you believe in her? The company still wants you to manage her. Xu Mei has her own connections… How about this, I’ll reserve a role for Li Mengjiao in Hunan TV’s next drama. I won’t trick you this time.”
Sign the contract, and everything’s on the table.
Manager Guan didn’t mind having more cash cows.
But without pressure, how could he tame Li Mengjiao?
Yuan Fenghui sneered, “I appreciate your kindness, but it’s not just Li Mengjiao who won’t sign—I’m resigning too.”
Manager Guan was stunned.
Resigning?
Was this why Yuan Fenghui hadn’t fully committed to signing Li Mengjiao?
No wonder…
“You’re betraying us!”
Manager Guan was furious, “Yuan Fenghui, you were a pariah in Taiwan, and I brought you to Hunan, gave you a job.”
Tch—
She wasn’t desperate; she just wanted a change of scenery, okay?
A pariah? The industry didn’t care about that. As long as she could make money for a company, with her eye for talent and star-making ability, plenty of companies would want her!
If she were truly that bad off in Taiwan, how could she have brought in Zhang the screenwriter?
“My resignation letter will be in your inbox tomorrow.”
Yuan Fenghui was decisive. Manager Guan, losing his cool, blurted, “Fine, leave if you want, but don’t regret it. Li Mengjiao’s album is tied to the company. Guess if it’ll still sell?”
Click.
Yuan Fenghui hung up.
Was he out of his mind?
Threatening her with Li Mengjiao’s album?
If it doesn’t sell, so be it. The production costs were the company’s, not Yuan Fenghui’s or Li Mengjiao’s. If the album got shelved, the company would take the loss!
