Chapter Forty-Three: Preparing for Negotiation

At this moment, due to the recent negative press, the market value of Goldfish TV had plummeted to its lowest point. Ma Wu did not intend to give them even a moment’s respite; he wanted to deal swiftly and decisively. If he could seize the opportunity before Lei Hu reacted, and absorb Goldfish TV into his own holdings, that would be ideal.

He hastily finished his lunch and drove straight to the headquarters of Goldfish TV.

The headquarters were located in an office tower at Fortune Plaza in the new district. The new district of City H was a recently developed area, and its modern flair was unmistakable—towering skyscrapers everywhere, home to society’s elite.

Ma Wu quickly parked his car in Fortune Plaza’s lot. The entire parking area was filled with luxury cars; though his vehicle was hardly ordinary, here it was merely upper-middle tier.

He arrived at Goldfish TV’s floor, wearing a roguish smile as he strode up to the reception desk. Turning to the receptionist, he said, “Miss, could you ask your chairman to come out for a moment?”

The receptionist noted his distinguished attire, but there was no logic in summoning the chairman without an appointment. Her brows arched in annoyance and she replied sharply, “Sir, if you’re here for business or seeking cooperation, you are most welcome. But if you’re here to cause trouble, we have no interest in entertaining you.”

Ma Wu grinned, a trace of mockery at his lips. “It’s not that I want to cause trouble. Goldfish TV could have had a decent outcome. But where you are now—you brought this on yourselves.”

Shaking his head, Ma Wu realized that arguing with a receptionist was pointless. He sighed and said, “Alright, I won’t tease you. Go inform your chairman that Ma Wu is here to see him. I’m the one who claimed he’d acquire your company—‘I Really Have No Money’.”

The receptionist’s expression changed instantly; she studied Ma Wu for a moment, then responded respectfully, “Please wait a moment,” and hurried off to report to her superiors.

Soon enough, a middle-aged man emerged, surrounded by a crowd. He offered a cautious smile to Ma Wu. “I’ve heard much about you, Mr. Ma Wu. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Ma Wu smiled with a hint of ridicule, denying him any courtesy. “Yes, I’ve come—as promised—to acquire Goldfish TV.”

Just as Ma Wu finished speaking, he noticed a swarm of reporters appearing behind the middle-aged man. Goldfish TV’s staff tried desperately to block them from taking photos, but the sheer number of journalists made it impossible.

The middle-aged man glanced irritably at the reporters, but then his expression shifted to humility as he addressed Ma Wu, “Mr. Ma Wu, forgive the interruption. These reporters are like flies drawn to rotten meat—can’t shake them off.”

He then extended his hand and introduced himself with a smile. “Mr. Ma Wu, I am the chairman of Goldfish TV—my name is Jin Shan.”

Ma Wu gave Jin Shan a sidelong glance, ignoring the outstretched hand and responding disdainfully, “So you admit your company is like rotten meat now? Didn’t I warn you not to meddle with Lin Erke’s money? I wasn’t ruthless—I told Lei Bu Jing to refund you fully, and I even left you half.”

“Why didn’t you heed my warning? Did you think it wouldn’t come to this? Now negative news fills the air—are you finally satisfied?”

Jin Shan wiped the sweat from his brow; he was now certain that Ma Wu orchestrated the negative press against Goldfish TV, yet there was nothing he could do. Goldfish TV had become a hot potato—beset by internal and external crises, and facing financial ruin. He had lost faith in his ability to run the company and planned to sell it for whatever he could get, then abscond.

With Goldfish TV in shambles and at the center of a storm, no one else would consider acquiring it—except Ma Wu, who had previously made his intentions clear.

So, Ma Wu was now nearly Jin Shan’s savior; though Jin Shan cursed Ma Wu’s ancestors in his heart, he still had to treat him as a benefactor.

Jin Shan deliberated before adopting a humble posture. “My apologies, truly. I wasn’t thinking clearly—it’s all my fault. Please, forgive me.”

Ma Wu was about to speak when the journalists finally broke through the staff’s defenses. They snapped photos of Ma Wu and Jin Shan, commemorating the “grandfather-grandson” meeting. Others, holding microphones, began firing questions:

“Mr. Jin Shan, how do you explain the negative news about Goldfish TV? Do you believe the company has any future?”

“Mr. Jin Shan, rumor has it you’re eager to sell Goldfish TV and run off with the proceeds—is this true?”

“Mr. Ma Wu, are you here to acquire Goldfish TV? What price do you anticipate?”

One particularly sharp reporter, perhaps hoping for a scoop, asked Jin Shan, “Mr. Jin Shan, why are you so deferential to Ma Wu? He exposed your company’s negative news, yet you treat him like a grandfather. Is there some strategic significance to this?”

Jin Shan’s eyelids twitched violently, anger threatening to burst forth. He shouted, “Get out! Where are the security staff? Get these reporters out of here!”

Ma Wu waved his hand, smiling. “Let them stay. Aren’t we here to discuss the acquisition? Let the reporters witness it—there’s no need to send them away.”

Though his words sounded like a suggestion, the tone shifted towards command. Ma Wu knew Jin Shan wouldn’t dare defy him; Jin Shan was desperate to sell Goldfish TV and escape, and would agree to anything—even being called “grandfather.”

Jin Shan lowered his head, hiding a cold gleam in his eyes. He planned, once he got the money, to flee abroad—and perhaps hire assassins to deal with the always meddlesome Ma Wu.

But outwardly, he could only reply meekly, “Alright, alright, don’t chase the reporters away. Let’s go to the conference room!”

The reporters looked at Jin Shan, now as submissive as a grandson, their eyes filled with derision. Not long ago, Ma Wu had not shown his power, and Jin Shan had bullied others with impunity. Now that Ma Wu was taking action, Jin Shan was reduced to a sycophant.

Ma Wu and Jin Shan led the crowd of journalists into the conference room. Jin Shan rushed to the front, opened his laptop, and projected Goldfish TV’s current profit figures onto the screen, ingratiatingly addressing Ma Wu:

“Mr. Ma Wu, as you can see, this is Goldfish TV’s current profit status. Our earnings are still quite strong. Every day, the platform, led by Lin Erke’s livestream, generates tens of thousands in revenue.”

“And here is our advertising resource distribution—it’s all in very good shape. Goldfish TV also has branches in two other cities, and those are developing well, with great potential.”

Ma Wu watched Jin Shan, amused—he was clearly trying to dupe him. These were the figures from Goldfish TV’s peak, before the crisis. Now, after the negative news and Lei Bu Jing’s refunds, the company had shrunk dramatically. If profits were half what the chart showed, it would be a miracle.

Ma Wu said nothing, but the reporters began whispering among themselves:

“Jin Shan really is as rumored—not a proper businessman. He’s using old data to mislead people again.”

“I doubt he can fool Ma Wu. Isn’t it obvious? Goldfish TV’s been hit hard by negative news. Lin Erke’s livestream can’t squeeze a single penny now, yet he claims profits in the tens of thousands? Ridiculous.”

“Let’s hope Ma Wu doesn’t fall for it. Jin Shan clearly wants a good price and is spinning nonsense.”

Jin Shan wiped the cold sweat from his brow, shooting threatening glances at the reporters to silence them. Yet their expressions were full of contempt: pretending to be tough with us, but acting like a grandson before Ma Wu—truly a failure.