Including Cui Bingbing’s parents, almost no one in the entire family supported Cui Bingbing taking only one month of maternity leave and throwing herself desperately into work. Cui Bingbing had to explain over and over that in her position, she couldn’t withdraw for three months, or she would die a miserable death—it would be better to quit altogether and become a full-time housewife. The key point was that she enjoyed the sense of achievement work brought her, and couldn’t give it up, so this was the only way. Her female friends both praised and criticized her, which was the result Cui Bingbing had anticipated. What Cui Bingbing least expected was support from Jia Li. Jia Li admired Cui Bingbing tremendously, but as someone who had been through it, she deeply understood Cui Bingbing’s difficulties. Although there was Cui’s mother, an expert-level doctor, overseeing Dandan’s care, she wasn’t a pediatric specialist after all and couldn’t keep up with advances in childcare science. Though she could search online fairly smoothly, compared to young people gaining knowledge through forum exchanges of experience, she fell short. In this area, Jia Li helped patiently and meticulously fill the gaps. Jia Li brought the currently best-rated diapers, little clothes, gauze towels, bottles, and such. When these couldn’t be bought locally, she had Qian Hongming buy them from Shanghai, or even had friends bring them from Hong Kong.
Good products only need to be used once to appreciate their wonderful qualities. Cui Bingbing was endlessly grateful to Jia Li. Now that she too was a mother, she finally had topics to discuss with Jia Li. During free time, she could call and talk extensively about childcare experiences. Jia Li became a lifeline for Cui Bingbing in her frantic breastfeeding career. Cui Bingbing finally admitted to Liu Jun that Jia Li was indeed a very good person.
Even though Liu Jun suffered from sleep deprivation and work stress, losing the slight weight he’d gained and becoming thin again, when he saw Cui Bingbing almost every early morning, bleary-eyed, forcing herself to eat pig’s feet soup with barely any salt to stimulate milk production, he was incredibly impressed. No matter how thin he got, he could never have such an appetite early in the morning. He suggested Cui Bingbing might follow the current power supply model: cut three, supply four, or cut four, supply three. How could Cui Bingbing possibly cut three and supply four? Her unexpected return to work had completely disrupted the plans of that backstabbing colleague who hoped to replace her. If she stopped, wouldn’t that allow the backstabbing colleague to make a comeback? Liu Jun could only express understanding and provide strong support.
But one day, Jia Li took out a mirror and had Cui Bingbing look carefully, saying nothing. Jia Li’s mirror had a magnifying function. When Cui Bingbing saw herself in the mirror looking like a haggard housewife, especially seeing the magnified pores and sagging skin, she couldn’t help but scream, horrified. Cui Bingbing looked nervously at Jia Li, who shook her head with a pitying expression. Cui Bingbing wasn’t stupid—she understood immediately. She knew she now faced a choice between marriage and career. She understood Liu Jun—men, who doesn’t appreciate beauty? She thought of Liang Sishen, who had given birth a few months before her. When she came to visit recently, how well-maintained she looked—no wonder her husband was so attentive to her. No wonder Liu Jun was never attentive to her. But was Liu Jun’s blindness to her haggard appearance a good thing? Of course, it was terrible.
Dandan didn’t sleep well and had to be held by someone, and was only put on the bed after falling asleep. When Liu Jun came home from work, this duty naturally fell to him. Only after Dandan finally fell asleep would Liu Jun wake Cui Bingbing, who had come home from work for a brief nap, to eat dinner. Seeing no one beside her, Cui Bingbing grasped her husband’s hand and asked softly, “Am I very ugly now? All disheveled and dirty?”
“No, you have the sacred look of a mother.”
“The mother looks for your daughter to see. Do I still have the wife look? Am I just a worn-out wife?”
“The wife’s look is seriously absent at the moment. Hey, I’m not making demands—don’t worry. If I made demands, you’d be forced to abandon me.”
Though Liu Jun spoke well, Cui Bingbing couldn’t ignore natural laws. “I feel I’m at the end of my rope. I desperately need your support, need you to give me confidence. Liu Jun, please hug me often. You rarely hug me since I gave birth. You’re my only great tonic—you’re what I love most.”
“You feed Dandan milk, you feed me sweet talk.” Liu Jun reached out to hug his wife, then urged her to go eat. Cui Bingbing wanted more—she wasn’t coy. When she had needs, she expressed and acted on them. Like a koala, she clung to Liu Jun until she no longer wanted to, then let go, and they went down to eat together. On the table was another bowl of carp soup for milk production, thin and bland. Cui Bingbing drank it with a frown. Watching this gourmet suffer so much for their daughter, Liu Jun couldn’t bear it. “Don’t force yourself. You really will be pushed to the end of your rope—you’re not a fairy. If there’s no milk, we can use formula. There are many on the market now. If not, I’ll fly to Hong Kong immediately to buy some.”
Hearing her husband’s concern, Cui Bingbing’s frowning brow relaxed, and she smiled, but tears dripped down. “We can’t shortchange our Dandan…” But as she spoke, she choked up and couldn’t continue. She grabbed tissues to wipe her face while smiling, but the more she wiped, the more tears came, and soon she couldn’t smile anymore.
Liu Jun came around the table and let his wife cry to her heart’s content in his arms. Without explanation, he already understood. If he were in the mother’s position, he might not do as well as Cui Bingbing, but Cui Bingbing was a woman—he had overlooked that the strong Cui Bingbing was a woman. No wonder when he sometimes called Cui Bingbing a “strong woman,” she would always shout, “I hate those three words ‘strong woman’ most!” No matter how strong a woman is, she can’t escape physiological limitations—she’s still a woman. Cui Bingbing probably also felt guilty about shortchanging Dandan for work, so she compensated by drinking those awful pig’s feet soup and carp soup with her eyes closed like a female warrior. The one who should feel more guilty was Liu Jun himself.
But what more could he do? At night, it was often Cui Bingbing pumping milk and then sleeping through, while he woke at midnight to feed their daughter. Supposedly, this should be the nanny’s job, but neither of the new parents didn’t feel comfortable with that. What he could still do was probably serve as his wife’s great tonic and give her more spiritual strength. He most loved Cui Bingbing’s directness, unlike other delicate women—he didn’t need to rack his brains guessing. But when hugging became a task, the execution always lacked something, though only Liu Jun knew this—Cui Bingbing couldn’t tell.
The company always had endless troubles. This trouble could be said to be a time bomb that had been planted in Tengfei years ago, finally exploding. A notice from the People’s Bank came down, asking Liu Jun to come explain why they claimed to be a foreign-invested company but were entirely funded with renminbi. Liu Jun hurriedly asked Cui Bingbing first why funding issues would be raised at this time. Only then did Cui Bingbing remember the recent strict investigation of underground banks to prevent foreign exchange impact from the recent jump-like appreciation of the renminbi. Not only were they checking foreign investment accounts like Liu Jun’s, but they were also tightening control over large renminbi cash withdrawals. But Liu Jun had a guilty conscience—the principles Cui Bingbing explained couldn’t solve his problem. He could only bite the bullet and accept questioning first. Since they specifically wanted the legal representative, Liu Shitang couldn’t go even if he wanted to.
Before going, Liu Jun found personnel from the industrial zone investment promotion office. Only after inquiring did he learn that Tengfei wasn’t an isolated case. Many enterprises in the industrial zone, seeking foreign enterprise tax reduction policies, had found ways to spend money through intermediaries to register shell companies in Hong Kong or offshore territories. Some with smaller courage, after obtaining overseas licenses through intermediary operations, found Hong Kong businessmen who needed renminbi to pay mainland employee salaries, and the two parties privately exchanged currencies for foreign exchange capital verification purposes—so these enterprises’ initial registered capital was mostly not high. Most simply took overseas company licenses and invested with renminbi through connections. These people were all targets of this crackdown. It was said that the People’s Bank, the Foreign Exchange Administration, and the Industry and Commerce Bureau were investigating together. If verified, the charges would be serious—reduced taxes would have to be returned, plus some financial crime charge would be added, with maximum sentences of five years.
Liu Jun was deeply anxious. After coordinating testimony with Cui Bingbing to ensure no slip-ups, he went to the People’s Bank on time. He told the People’s Bank officials that when he returned to China, he brought foreign exchange. At that time, his father was running a factory, and they figured that since the family could explain everything clearly, they gradually converted their foreign exchange to renminbi and invested it all in new product development. With so much time passing, those exchange receipts can no longer be found today. Then, when the new company was established, there were still exchange receipts available, so they were treated as foreign investment. This was the strategy he and Cui Bingbing worked out—insisting there really was foreign investment that met the policy-required foreign investment ratio for foreign companies, just with some flexibility in the registration process back then. Only this way could they conveniently operate behind the scenes in the future. After all, Liu Jun was different from others playing with foreign companies—he had a real passport, and having worked abroad for years, having foreign currency savings was natural and logically sound. Cui Bingbing was certain the local People’s Bank wouldn’t check Liu Jun’s German bank account credit cards through diplomatic channels over such a small matter. They were just going through the motions, ultimately fining something to claim credit above. These days, unless it was murder or arson, no one would take things too seriously.
The rest was left to Cui Bingbing to handle. Being in the banking system herself, she knew the People’s Bank inside and out. As long as she found the person specifically responsible, such small matters that were insisted to be non-principal issues wouldn’t become principal problems. Of course, fines still had to be paid, just without major losses. Prison was out of the question. The problem was handled easily in the hands of career woman Cui Bingbing.
Actually, according to Liu Jun’s investigation, after this cleanup in the industrial zone, ultimately no one went to prison. These days, no one sprang from rocks—anyone who could run a factory in the industrial zone for years and make money for years had connections above. After years, even without relatives, they’d cultivated friends. Looking back, Liu Jun realized it was just a false alarm.
The most troublesome were still the company’s problems. Product confidentiality work was always a case of measures and countermeasures. There were workers with good memories who used “five ghost transportation” methods to slowly leak blueprints line by line, data point by data point. There were staff who jumped ship, taking ideas with them, and those who were imitated, and so on. Luo Qing finally couldn’t bear it anymore. He proposed a plan: since the company, due to material and strict quality management issues, was unwilling to reduce costs, resulting in an inability to compete with imitators and thieves, they had to increase R&D investment and constantly change products, creating a vicious cycle. It would be better to establish a second-tier brand similar to clothing outside the Tengfei brand, separately setting up workshops or factory areas specifically for high-volume production of products with market-average quality. This way, everyone would know stealing Tengfei’s technology was pointless, and loopholes would close themselves. Since it used separate facilities, it wouldn’t affect existing workers’ quality management awareness, and could extend the life of Tengfei R&D center technologies.
Luo Qing gave Liu Jun an example: In the past, VCDs were so expensive and everyone had little money, so sorry, everyone bought pirated copies. Even if the image was blurry, they endured it—morality could take a backseat. When someone had great courage and drastically lowered genuine VCD prices, people saw they could watch genuine versions for just slightly more money, so naturally, they stopped buying pirated discs. The market could also introduce higher-priced clear versions to meet some special people’s needs. This was the market. Often, with appropriate policies and good use of the market’s invisible hand, you could achieve twice the results with half the effort.