"So this isn't a content issue." Mr. Zhou's voice grew even deeper. "It's an issue of interests. Mohammed doesn't want you to rectify; he wants you to carve out a piece of the meat for him. If you don't give it to him, he'll ban you. If you do, he'll want something else tomorrow. This isn't a problem that can be solved by sending a few engineers."
Zhang Yiming fell silent.
"And—" Mr. Zhou paused, "that's just on the surface. Deeper down, someone doesn't want a Huaxia app to grow big in Indonesia. TikTok has 40 million daily active users in Southeast Asia; it's already touched too many people's cakes. Local Indonesian media groups, America's Meta, Google—who wouldn't be envious? Have you checked who's standing behind Mohammed?"
Zhang Yiming didn't speak. He had checked. But what he found made his blood run cold.
"So the problem now isn't whether you can rectify." Mr. Zhou's voice turned cold. "It's whether you have someone who can sit at the poker table in Jakarta and negotiate terms with those local snakes. Do you?"
Zhang Yiming opened his mouth but couldn't find the words.
He didn't.
His team was entirely composed of product and technical people. Not a single person could sit down and talk with those powerful figures in Jakarta's gray areas.
Jiang Cheng listened silently from the side.
He hadn't been paying much attention to the TikTok equivalent's affairs over the past couple of days while he was here.
Previously, he thought he might have to use his family's influence if he stepped in, but after clarifying the situation, Jiang Cheng felt it was much simpler.
Hengcheng Company controlled almost all of the underground forces in Tyrande.
Although Tyrande's underground forces and Indonesia's were two different things...
...when you controlled such power, you also indirectly held an entry ticket to the chambers of commerce.
Tyrande's top chaebols were the 'passports' for gray business in Southeast Asia.
As long as the right person was found to send word over there, this matter could easily become an issue between 'one of our own' and 'one of our own'.
"Mr. Zhou, I understand." slang reference to Zhang Yiming was still troubled... and said in a raspy voice, "Then on your end... how much can you contribute?"
Mr. Zhou was silent for a long time, so long that Zhang Yiming thought he had hung up.
"Mr. Zhang, to be honest, I can't give you a figure right now. The Board of Directors needs to meet and discuss. We have to wait until the situation in Indonesia becomes a bit clearer at least..."
Zhang Yiming's fingers tightened around his phone.
"Alright, I understand." He took a deep breath and turned his gaze to the next window. "Mr. Zhao, what about your side?"
Mr. Zhao's expression was even more awkward than Mr. Zhou's.
"Mr. Zhang, it's not that I won't help you, it's just... our Investment Committee has already raised the risk rating for this project to the highest level. You know we have a US capital background. This Indonesia matter has America's shadow behind it. Investing in you would be like going against the US government. We can't shoulder that risk."
Zhang Yiming nodded.
He understood. He understood everything.
"Then on your end..." He paused, "how much can you co-invest?"
Mr. Zhao gave a bitter smile. "Mr. Zhang, I'll tell you the truth. In this situation, it's not something I can decide alone. The Investment Committee has to vote, and we have to wait at least until..."
"Wait for the situation to become clear?" Zhang Yiming finished the sentence for him.
Mr. Zhao didn't speak, but his expression said it all.
Zhang Yiming turned to the next window. "Mr. Liu, and you?"
Mr. Liu cleared his throat, his voice gentle but distant. "Mr. Zhang, you know my situation. We have a Japanese capital background, and Japan's relationship with Indonesia has always been good. It's not appropriate for us to interfere in this. It's not that we don't want to help, but we can't. You have to understand."
Zhang Yiming nodded. He asked them one by one, and everyone in every window said "understand," "difficult," or "wait for the situation to become clear."
Everyone was very polite and said a lot, but translated, it was only one sentence.
I can't help you.
When he got to the seventh person, Zhang Yiming's finger stopped on the mouse.
There were still four windows lit on the screen, but three had already gone dark.
Those people had left even before the meeting ended.
Only two lit windows remained on the screen.
Himself and Jiang Cheng.
Jiang Cheng's window was still lit. He hadn't said a word from start to finish, but he hadn't hung up either.
Zhang Yiming looked at that window, his eyes red and his lips trembling.
"Mr. Jiang." His voice was very soft, as if afraid of disturbing something. "Are you still there?"
Jiang Cheng leaned back on the sofa, his fingers tapping on the armrest. He stopped when he heard the question.
"Here."
Just one word.
But Zhang Yiming's shoulders relaxed slightly.
It was as if someone had finally caught the string that had been pulled taut.
He lowered his head and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.
The movement was very fast, as if he was afraid of being seen.
"You heard everything?" he asked.
"Mm."
"Then you..." He paused, "Why aren't you saying anything?"
Jiang Cheng looked at him, the corners of his mouth curling slightly. "I'm waiting for you to ask me."
Zhang Yiming was stunned.
"You just asked everyone one by one, and each gave you a pile of reasons, but not one of them asked you: 'Mr. Zhang, you think what should be done?'"
Jiang Cheng leaned on the sofa. His hair was still wet, and his bathrobe was loosely worn; he didn't look like he was about to discuss a business deal worth tens of billions.
But his eyes were bright and steady, as if he were speaking of a certainty.
Zhang Yiming looked at the window on the screen, his voice trembling. "Mr. Jiang, can you help me?"
Jiang Cheng looked at him and didn't answer. Instead, he asked, "That Indonesian official Mr. Zhou mentioned—Mohammed. His brother-in-law's company is asking for fifty million USD a year?"
Zhang Yiming blinked in surprise. "Yes."
"Do you think he only wants that fifty million, or does he want more?"
Zhang Yiming was silent for two seconds. "He'll want more. Today it's content moderation outsourcing, tomorrow it'll be server hosting, and the day after it'll be a data center. He'll eat it bit by bit until he's drained all the profits of TikTok in Indonesia."
"Then do you know how to negotiate with him?"
Zhang Yiming gave a bitter smile. "I don't."
"Then what if I said I could negotiate for you?"