Chapter 34#

After returning to Beijing, Tan Xiao had nothing to do at home and decided to accept Secretary Feng’s invitation to work in the President’s Office for a while. He also informed Zhang Xingchuan about it.

Zhang Xingchuan wasn’t particularly concerned. Whether Tan Xiao wanted to play or work was up to him. Even if he went to work for a competing app out of boredom, it didn’t matter—as long as Tan Xiao was happy.

Besides, when it came to serious matters, Tan Xiao was a very reliable all-around good student.

So the imperial concubine returned to the palace and started working in the Wenjing President’s Office.

The actual situation in the President’s Office wasn’t as serious as Secretary Feng had described.

Jiaxin was a middle-level manager with exceptional coordinating abilities. During her tenure, she’d already perfected the President’s Office’s basic operations. With her gone, the operational mechanisms she’d established remained in place. But with her departure, the office temporarily lacked a steady hand. Many colleagues showed some bewilderment. Secretary Feng handled administrative work with great precision, but when it came to soothing hearts, he didn’t know how to respond. Very good at reading the room, he sensed the anxiety but didn’t know how to improve it, so he himself became anxious as well.

Tan Xiao had previously assisted Jiaxin and was familiar with the President’s Office’s work. The colleagues got along very pleasantly with him before, and now with the bonus of being the CEO’s spouse, they were fully cooperative with his temporary assignments.

Half a month later, Assistant Tan, working with Secretary Feng, had revitalized the President’s Office.

But out of caution, Tan Xiao rarely entered the CEO’s office during work hours, especially trying to avoid appearing in the same frame as Zhang Xingchuan.

In the evenings he’d spend the night at Zhang Xingchuan’s place, or Zhang Xingchuan would stay over at his, splitting the nights about equally. In any case, the two were together every night and only separated once they arrived at the office in the morning, each going about their business.

When Tan Xiao had interned at Wenjing during winter break, his daily outfits were fashionable but maintained a college student’s vibe—obviously a young intern. This time, invited by Secretary Feng with a mission, he’d intentionally dressed slightly more in the direction of being elite, started wearing business pants and dress shirts, and occasionally tied a small tie for reception activities.

For this, Zhang Xingchuan secretly gave Secretary Feng credit. That was his wife in her elite skin—absolutely sexy.

By July, Zhang Xingchuan became very busy, unusually busy. Summer had begun, and it was indeed peak season for the travel business, but the CEO didn’t need to handle business directly himself. Tan Xiao always felt something was off.

This evening, Tan Xiao was fishing around in the President’s Office, claiming he was working late on trivial tasks but really waiting to go home with Zhang Xingchuan.

Zhang Xingchuan’s office was empty. He must have gone to some other department.

Tan Xiao had slept at Zhang Xingchuan’s the previous night, but he’d come back very late and was woken by work calls, leaving several times to take them. Tan Xiao waited for him to return, wanting to ask what was wrong, but seeing how exhausted he was, he just let him sleep.

By morning, Tan Xiao was chatting with the housekeeper about breakfast when Zhang Xingchuan hurried downstairs saying he had to leave early.

Tan Xiao followed him out worriedly and asked, “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

The driver had the car waiting at the door. Zhang Xingchuan had already descended the steps when he quickly turned back. He gave Tan Xiao a brief but serious explanation: “It’s a company matter. There’s been a problem with our cooperation with a hotel supplier. The relevant department colleagues are already waiting for me to discuss it. I’m running late—I need to hurry.”

Tan Xiao just needed to know what happened. He said, “Okay, go then.”

Zhang Xingchuan squeezed his hand, went out, got in the car, and left.

Tan Xiao didn’t see Zhang Xingchuan all day, and the mood in the President’s Office was also somewhat oppressive. Tan Xiao knew he couldn’t just ask around casually. Though he sat at a regular workstation, everyone knew he wasn’t a regular employee. Any move he made during a crisis might be seen as Zhang Xingchuan’s instruction.

Around nine o’clock, Secretary Feng, whom Tan Xiao hadn’t seen for most of the day, hurried in, grabbed a power bank from his desk drawer, and was about to leave immediately.

“Where are you having the meeting?” Tan Xiao asked him.

“The main conference room,” Secretary Feng said, clearly not realizing Tan Xiao didn’t know what was happening. He was in a hurry. “Don’t wait for the CEO tonight. With such a serious situation, he might not be able to come home.”

Tan Xiao followed Secretary Feng out of the President’s Office. Secretary Feng walked rapidly and entered the main conference room, which was brightly lit. Zhang Xingchuan and several recognizable senior executives from headquarters were inside. Wenjing had encountered a serious crisis.

Wenjing’s long-term partner, a major global hotel chain brand, the M Hotel Group, had a contract with Wenjing expiring next month. The renewal agreement had been proceeding normally, everything was smooth sailing, but this morning, the M Group suddenly sent a letter stating that they’d made strategic adjustments and would no longer renew their contract with Wenjing.

Following that, M Hotel, under the guise of system upgrades, directly cut off API interfaces. Wenjing could no longer access information on room status and prices from all of M Group’s properties, from high-end to budget hotels. On Wenjing’s platform, hundreds of domestic and overseas hotel pages automatically displayed “This hotel currently has no available rooms.”

Wenjing was only at the tail end of the first tier among domestic travel service platforms. With an upstream super-sized hotel partner pulling this stunt, Wenjing platform’s traffic immediately showed a noticeable decline.

Currently, the situation hadn’t fully exploded. Financial media were still watching. Once news of a Wenjing supply chain crisis appeared, the consequences would become very difficult to control.

Other small and medium-sized suppliers were gradually discovering this situation and naturally worried about account security. Several had already asked Wenjing to shorten payment terms or demand early settlement. If things continued developing this way, it could easily escalate into a bank run.

By then, if public opinion crisis expanded and the cash flow faced problems, panic transmission could form a chain reaction in a short time, and Wenjing’s stock price would inevitably be affected.

Sun, the deputy general manager of the Finance Division, had originally been on vacation. When this suddenly happened, it was like being struck by lightning from a clear sky. He rushed back urgently. Zhang Xingchuan had already spoken with him one-on-one, and during the day he’d also communicated immediately with other core executives.

The company had sufficient cash flow and had countermeasures prepared. What was needed now was to steady the executives’ hearts—everyone’s options and equity positions wouldn’t be affected. Wenjing and Wenjing people should trust each other when facing difficulties together.

So the other people present, having received reassurance, all appeared calm.

Only Deputy General Manager Sun was furious. He’d rushed back from Araliya, still wearing beach shorts under his dress pants. He said, “Who on earth angered the M Hotel Group? We’ve had good cooperation all these years. Wenjing is clean and above board. If they’re going to cancel, they should cancel with those companies that are always being summoned for talks. Why are they picking on Wenjing?”

Jiaxin was beside him, very composed. She’d just transferred to the Corporate Travel Business Division as deputy director less than a month ago and encountered this situation right away—certainly not happy about it. But hearing Sun’s words, she made a joke: “If Wenjing were always being summoned for talks, M Group probably wouldn’t dare be so rash in sending a termination letter.”

This was clearly an upstream large group using some method to suppress the downstream Wenjing. Though they still didn’t know the motivation and purpose, this brazenly public approach happened precisely because Wenjing wasn’t the domestic top player. Its market share was limited, and it strictly followed relevant laws and regulations—which made it look very easy to bully.

Zhang Xingchuan exchanged a few brief words with the head of the PR division. Already, online users had discovered the platform anomaly. Screenshots comparing Wenjing showing partial hotels as temporarily unable to accept orders while other platforms displayed them normally were circulating online.

If the financial news had more updates, Wenjing would need to provide a positive response immediately.

At this moment, Zhang Xingchuan suddenly saw Tan Xiao outside the partition glass. He gave some instructions to the people beside him and quickly stepped out.

“Why haven’t you gone home?” Zhang Xingchuan could still smile at a time like this as he spoke to Tan Xiao. “Go home first. I don’t know when I’ll finish here.”

He had to finalize and communicate the strategic direction for responding to this crisis to everyone tonight.

Tan Xiao looked at him in bewilderment.

Zhang Xingchuan said, “Be good, go home first.”

“Is it… possibly…” Tan Xiao took several deep breaths before continuing. “Is this something my family did?”

Zhang Xingchuan didn’t answer, but his reaction to being asked this question was subtle.

Tan Xiao immediately noticed. Zhang Xingchuan must have perceived or guessed the source—a force from Europe that had originally had nothing to do with Wenjing.

“It should be my sister,” Tan Xiao said, thinking through it. “She took charge of acquiring a major hotel management company in 2021. That company manages the operational systems of over three hundred hotels globally. M Group not renewing could be a strategic adjustment, but API interfaces don’t get shut down on a whim. It’s likely because the maintenance rights are already in my family’s hands.”

Zhang Xingchuan: “…”

In Zhang Xingchuan’s initial guess, Tan Xiao’s family might have been pressuring M Group through shipping companies… Turns out it didn’t need to be that complicated. He’d been shortsighted.

Tan Xiao had previously optimistically assumed Tan Yun wouldn’t interfere in his romance, even fantasizing that she might come to bless him.

But judging by Tan Yun’s temperament, this was how she expressed her opposition. She didn’t have Zhou Ruofei’s leisure to confront her brother about why he was dating a man. She’d simply press Zhang Xingchuan’s small company to death with one finger and be done with it.

Behind the partition glass were Wenjing colleagues working hard on this situation. They originally shouldn’t have had to face this turmoil.

Tan Xiao felt terrible in his heart. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be like that,” Zhang Xingchuan immediately said. “It’s really not a big deal. We can handle it. Actually, it’s been too smooth sailing—everyone’s been too comfortable, which isn’t good for team growth.”

Tan Xiao watched him appear unperturbed. Capybaras remained calm even when the sky fell, so that was normal. It was hard to judge how urgent the situation was from Zhang Xingchuan’s reaction.

Tan Xiao genuinely felt guilty. “I should still call her. If it really is her…”

But Zhang Xingchuan said, “I don’t think you should contact her right now.”

Tan Xiao asked, “Why?”

“If the power behind this is your sister, or someone else in your family,” Zhang Xingchuan explained, “their target isn’t me, and it won’t be Wenjing. People and matters like us are unimportant to them. What they want is only your obedience.”

That was probably how things were. Tan Xiao also agreed with Zhang Xingchuan’s analysis. However Zhang Xingchuan leads Wenjing to respond to the crisis—the Doria family people wouldn’t care at all.

Tan Yun was probably just waiting for Tan Xiao to back down, obediently go home, and admit his mistakes, swearing he’d never date a man again.

“But I still need to communicate with her first,” Tan Xiao said, having regained his composure. “If she’s doing something that hurts others without benefiting herself, at least give me a chance to talk.”

Zhang Xingchuan saw his mind was made up and didn’t stop him further. He squeezed his hand and said, “Don’t ask her for anything—unless you want to anger me to death.”

Tan Xiao understood what that meant. Zhang Xingchuan didn’t want him making any promises in exchange for Wenjing’s peace.

He couldn’t help but hug Zhang Xingchuan tightly, and Zhang Xingchuan hugged him back powerfully.

Tan Xiao went somewhere quiet to call Tan Yun.

Zhang Xingchuan returned to the main conference room, and colleagues who knew about the relationship between the two men all quickly averted their eyes, pretending they’d seen nothing.

Tan Xiao had always been a bit afraid of Tan Yun, but Tan Yun was also his only approved family member in the Doria family. He felt nothing toward the other family members except disdain. He loved Tan Yun as a sister.

The phone rang for a long time before Tan Yun picked up, calling her brother’s name in German: “Julian?”

“Alexandra,” Tan Xiao responded in German as well, getting straight to the point. “Is the M Hotel Group your partner?”

Zhang Xingchuan had a complete plan to respond to this crisis.

Of course, he’d feel some frustration over this calamity out of nowhere, but the way events had unfolded also relieved him greatly.

His biggest worry had been that Tan Xiao’s queen-like sister might pull out some unexpected mafia-style thunderous moves. As it was now, this was better—merely suppression through modern commercial tactics, which was within Zhang Xingchuan’s predictions.

Things had unfolded as he’d anticipated. Seriously resolve it and move on. This actually gave Zhang Xingchuan a sense of stability.