Businesspeople were bound to make enemies, but the investors insisted they hadn’t offended anyone recently. Any grudges they had were old ones, and they’d released several films and dramas in the meantime without trouble. Why would someone wait until now to strike?
Zhou Lin asked around using her own connections. The answers were discouraging: someone with considerable influence was targeting the film, and even her contacts couldn’t help. They advised her to prepare for the worst. The film might still be released someday, but not for some time, and the investors would inevitably lose money.
Zhou Lin grew certain Wang Cheng was responsible. Who else would dare challenge Zhou Group’s standing so openly? She kept her suspicions from the investors, though. If this really was retaliation against her, they’d been dragged into it because she’d persuaded them to take Yazhi’s role away in the first place. They’d have every reason to resent her.
The investors learned the truth anyway. Wang Cheng had arranged for someone to tip them off. They’d agreed to break their arrangement with Yazhi, and now they could face the consequences. If Yazhi could be bullied that easily, it would never have become one of the industry’s leading entertainment companies.
It wasn’t long before one of the investors called Zhou Lin.
“President Zhou, you told me Yazhi’s chairman had been expelled from the Zhou family and was nothing to fear. I believed you. That’s why I gave the role to your artist. Now this happens, and it’s obvious he’s striking back at you. What do you intend to do about it?”
Zhou Lin was annoyed by the accusation. The man had agreed to cast a Tangren artist because he wanted the advantages of Zhou Group’s backing. He’d been eager enough at the time. Now that things had gone wrong, he wanted her to bear all the blame? She had no intention of making herself his scapegoat.
“That’s hardly fair, President Chen. Wang Cheng was driven out of the Zhou family. I told you the truth. You’re an experienced businessman; you made your own choice. How was I supposed to know he’d make such a fuss over a minor role?”
The investor nearly choked with anger. If Zhou Lin hadn’t deliberately misled him, he would never have agreed to recast the part at the last minute.
“If that’s your position, President Zhou, I have nothing more to say. But let me offer you some advice: don’t burn every bridge you cross.”
He hung up.
Zhou Lin was entirely unmoved. He wasn’t powerful enough to frighten her.
The investor only grew angrier the more he thought about it. Zhou Lin could afford to speak so carelessly because she believed he was too insignificant to matter. Yet he’d invested tens of millions of yuan in this film. A delayed release meant more than wasted advertising. Theater screening slots had been scheduled well in advance, and he’d spent a great deal securing them. Those expenses were now lost, and arranging another release would be much harder.
He knew he’d have to swallow the loss. But Zhou Lin’s attitude was impossible to forget. They’d fallen out already, so any future cooperation with Zhou Group was probably finished. He might as well stop worrying about offending her.
The publicity campaign had stirred considerable interest among moviegoers. Many people who’d seen the trailers were eager to watch the film. Instead, the next day’s announcement said the release had been postponed because of unforeseen problems, with a new date to follow.
The internet erupted in disappointment and speculation.
The official explanation couldn’t reveal what had really happened, but industry insiders knew the film had somehow offended Yazhi. A little digging exposed the recasting dispute. Other investors who’d taken roles away from Yazhi’s artists to curry favor with Zhou Group began to panic. None wanted to be next. After thinking it over, some rejected Zhou Lin’s requests and returned the roles to Yazhi.
When Zhou Lin heard, she flew into a rage in her office.
Tangren Media had been registered in her own name and had no formal connection to Zhou Group. She’d merely borrowed the corporation’s reputation to promote it. The money invested in productions therefore came from her own pocket, not company funds, which she couldn’t openly divert. Her resources were limited. At most, she could finance one or two projects in the short term, nowhere near enough to provide roles for all Tangren’s contracted artists. That was why she’d gone to such lengths to win other investors over using Zhou Group’s name. Now they were turning her away, and all her work had come to nothing.
Pan Zhihai soon called Wang Cheng with the good news: every role Tangren had snatched was being returned. The investors seemed genuinely apologetic. Yazhi had been angry, but there was little to gain by alienating potential partners further. Pan Zhihai thought they should accept the roles and let matters rest. Wang Cheng told him to use his judgment.
President Chen later approached Yazhi himself, offering to cut out the Tangren actor’s scenes and let a Yazhi artist reshoot them. All he wanted was for the company to drop the matter.
Pan Zhihai consulted Wang Cheng and received his approval. The role had never been especially important. Wang Cheng simply wanted to make a point: Yazhi was not there for anyone to push around.
The scenes were reshot, the film re-edited, and a new trailer released. A few eagle-eyed viewers noticed the replacement, but most hardly cared. It wasn’t the lead or even the second lead, and they hadn’t seen the film yet. Half a month later, it finally premiered. Those in the know came away with a new respect for Yazhi, while others quietly congratulated themselves on not taking Zhou Lin up on her offers.
By then, Zhou Lin and Zhao Jiansheng had bigger problems than Tangren Media.
Yang Jun, whom they’d placed in the overseas branch, had caused a serious loss. Feng Yifan ordered his immediate recall without even consulting the couple, citing the chairman’s direct instructions.
Zhou Lin and Zhao Jiansheng only learned something was wrong when Yang Jun called them himself. They demanded an explanation, but he stammered so badly they couldn’t make sense of it. In the end, Zhao Jiansheng went straight to Feng Yifan to find out what had happened.
Although Yang Jun was their man, Xie Wenzhi was the one who actually ran the overseas branch. He kept a firm grip on its affairs, leaving Yang Jun with even less influence than Wang Cheng had enjoyed there. Yang Jun resented his position and repeatedly tried to undermine him.
The earlier incident had been part of the same pattern. Representatives from Aimer had come to discuss the next stage of cooperation with Zhou Group. Yang Jun intercepted them before Xie Wenzhi could meet them. Worse, he’d mistaken them for ordinary job applicants and sent them away. Aimer would never have let that insult pass if not for Wang Cheng. Xie Wenzhi’s longstanding dealings with the company also helped: Charlie respected him enough to let the incident go. Only then was a greater disaster narrowly avoided.
Later, while representing the branch in negotiations, Yang Jun had been so eager to claim an achievement that the other party tricked him into signing a contract that caused the company substantial losses.
Xie Wenzhi reported it to headquarters immediately. Yang Jun was no inexperienced newcomer, yet he was making mistakes worse than a beginner’s.
After consulting senior management, Feng Yifan ordered Yang Jun back. Zhou Lin and Zhao Jiansheng protested, but no one supported them. His latest mistake was too serious to excuse. A company that overlooked such incompetence would soon ruin itself.
The affair weakened the couple’s influence in management meetings. They’d personally recommended Yang Jun, so they had to answer for his failure. The fact that Feng Yifan hadn’t turned on them outright was already lenient.
Once Yang Jun was recalled, Feng Yifan appointed a temporary replacement. Unfortunately for Zhou Lin and Zhao Jiansheng, it was the last person they wanted installed at the branch: Zhang Wu.
Zhang Wu was close to Wang Cheng. Sending him to the branch was like placing an enemy squarely in their territory. The couple argued that he lacked experience, but they were in no position to object with Yang Jun’s mistakes still hanging over them. Zhang Wu’s appointment went ahead.
And there was more. Yang Jun had been Zhou Lin’s first personal recommendation, a man whose abilities she’d vouched for confidently. After discussion with the other executives, Feng Yifan decided to demote her. Zhao Jiansheng escaped more lightly because she’d shouldered most of the blame; he lost two years of annual bonuses.
The decision was formally announced the next day and posted on the notice board in the company’s main lobby. News reached the branches soon afterward.
Word somehow spread to the entertainment industry as well. People began to believe Zhou Lin had lost her influence, and Tangren Media no longer received the favors it had once enjoyed. The company that had sailed so smoothly under the borrowed prestige of Zhou Group now found obstacles everywhere.