February 4th, Monday.
Tan Xinzhang nervously knocked on the door of Tenda Group’s presidential office.
“Mr. Pei.”
Pei Qian looked up: “Oh? You’re here. Have you settled everything with your family?”
Tan Xinzhang nodded: “Everything’s settled. I hired two people to help my father manage the zoo and convinced him to accept the situation before coming here.”
It was clear that initially, old man Tan Yingjiu was quite resistant and reluctant about relocating the entire zoo to Jingzhou.
Perhaps on one hand, it was due to his attachment and reluctance to part with the zoo, not wanting to see the place he had devoted most of his life to become empty and abandoned. On the other hand, he was concerned about whether the animals would adapt well after relocation and whether they might struggle to adjust to life in a big city.
However, after Tan Xinzhang explained the specific details of the relocation, the old man agreed.
This was because Tan Yingjiu clearly understood that the zoo was deteriorating day by day. Although the animals were well-fed under his care, their living environment and conditions were still far inferior compared to those in large zoos.
Moreover, since Mr. Pei had appointed Tan Xinzhang as the zoo director, there was no need to worry about the animals suffering.
Even though these animals were all dear to Tan Yingjiu’s heart and he was reluctant to part with them, it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing if relocating could provide them with better conditions.
Pei Qian nodded and handed over a pre-printed proposal: “This is the preliminary plan for the zoo. Take a quick look.”
Tan Xinzhang reached out to accept it and quickly scanned through.
“Cold and Warm Pet Paradise?”
A puzzled expression appeared on Tan Xinzhang’s face. This zoo name didn’t sound very serious at first glance.
Most other zoos were named after their locations, like Jingzhou Zoo. The advantage of such naming was that people would immediately know where the zoo was located just by hearing the name.
Of course, some indoor zoos would choose more catchy and memorable names. These names might be diverse, but at least they were easy to remember and aligned with the zoo’s positioning.
But this “Cold and Warm”… what did it mean?
The idiom just didn’t seem to fit with a zoo! While it was a neutral expression, using it here felt somewhat inappropriate. It was only slightly better than naming it “Heaven’s Wrath Pet Paradise.”
But when he looked up at Mr. Pei, he noticed that Mr. Pei seemed to really like this name, so he didn’t say anything and continued reading.
After all, he didn’t think he had more authority than Mr. Pei when it came to naming.
Pei Qian nodded slightly.
Good, not asking too many questions was the first basic quality of an excellent manager, and Tan Xinzhang had passed this test.
As for why he chose such a name?
Obviously, it had two layers of meaning.
The first layer was directed at visitors—they would “know the warmth and coldness themselves.”
On the surface, the zoo might look decent, with a large area and a good location, but there would be nothing fun inside!
Just like a famous dish described as “looks understandable but tastes confusing,” this zoo would be all show and no substance. Anyone who came would have a bad experience, so for visitors, they would truly “know the warmth and coldness themselves.”
The second layer was for Mr. Pei himself—he also would “know the warmth and coldness himself.”
While everyone thought the zoo was failing and felt sorry for Mr. Pei, little did they know that Pei Qian was secretly rejoicing over the losses from the zoo. So this too was a case of “knowing the warmth and coldness oneself.”
Look at the name—how fitting!
As for whether this strange name could actually deter visitors, Pei Qian didn’t have high hopes. If it could, great; if not, so be it. After all, this zoo would lose money through its own merit.
Tan Xinzhang continued reading, and the surprise on his face became increasingly evident.
What were these bizarre requirements?
It was understandable that the enclosures’ sizes and feeding conditions were far better than ordinary zoos—Tenda had deep pockets, so that made sense. But for such a huge investment in a zoo, why wouldn’t they keep any rare animals and instead focus intensely on some common animals? What was the logic behind that?
Looking at the park’s layout, it also went against the basic principles of typical zoos. The entire area seemed large and empty, with plenty of rest space left for visitors, as if they were afraid visitors might tour the entire park in one go. It seemed designed to bore visitors after just a couple of attractions, hoping they would turn around and go home.
The only aspect that Tan Xinzhang found reasonable was the interactive experience, which seemed to be an innovative concept.
Some animals were naturally friendly to humans and could interact with visitors under the guidance of staff.
For example, Arctic foxes were naturally friendly. In many zoos, Arctic foxes would make eye contact with visitors through the glass when they approached, sticking out their tongues and following them from one end to the other, much like domesticated dogs.
But they weren’t suitable as pets because they were relatively less intelligent, had a strong odor, and their waste was difficult to manage.
In fact, apart from cats and dogs, there were many other human-friendly animals in the world. But only cats and dogs became mainstream pets, precisely because other niche pets had certain aspects that people found difficult to accept.
In an animal park, however, this problem didn’t exist.
These animals would have larger living spaces and would be scientifically fed and educated by specialized staff. Visitors could skip the annoying poop-scooping stage and simply enjoy petting them.
Moreover, if they could add some animal performances, wouldn’t that become a unique selling point?
Thinking of this, Tan Xinzhang said: “Mr. Pei, I have a small question. It doesn’t mention animal performances in the plan? I see positions for keepers, veterinarians, and so on, but why are there no animal trainers? If we had animal trainers, it could further enhance the zoo’s competitiveness and better complement the current interactive experiences.”
Pei Qian frowned slightly.
Animal trainers?
“That’s out of the question!” Pei Qian blurted out.
Tan Xinzhang was taken aback: “Why?”
Their family’s private zoo didn’t have animal performances, but that was because neither he nor his father knew how to train animals.
For animal training, you first needed suitable animals, and then scientific training methods. But once successful, it would greatly enhance the popularity of the entire zoo.
Many zoos scheduled animal performances during peak hours, which often drew massive crowds and were very popular.
Tan Xinzhang had previously considered how to save their failing zoo, and one idea was to introduce animal performances. But he didn’t know how to train animals, and hiring animal trainers was too expensive—they simply couldn’t afford it and lacked the necessary conditions, so the idea was abandoned.
But since Mr. Pei had already spent so much money on opening a zoo, wouldn’t hiring a few animal trainers for performances be a normal thing to do?
Pei Qian cleared his throat and explained: “Animal performances are, how should I put it, subject to different opinions.”
“Whether it’s keeping pets, breeding animals, or running a zoo, it’s ultimately for human satisfaction, there’s no doubt about that.”
“If we wanted to provide animals with the best living environment, we should cordon off a mountain and let animals run freely within it, rather than keeping them in captivity.”
“But making all places into natural reserves isn’t realistic either, because human society needs continuous development, and many people haven’t escaped poverty yet. We must first solve human survival problems.”
“I also don’t support those who treat animals like their own parents, like stopping traffic on highways to save their ‘father.’ That’s hypocritical. Humans protect animals for our own sake, and there’s nothing shameful about admitting that.”
“So, I believe zoos still have their necessity. They allow urban residents to not just see photos or videos of wild animals on screens but to interact with them up close. At the same time, by keeping animals in zoos, we protect them from extinction and sometimes provide better living conditions than in the wild. These are the purposes of zoos.”
“But… animal performances, I don’t think they fall into this category.”
“If it’s about training naturally intelligent animals through feeding, that’s fine; but if it’s about forcing animals to perform behaviors against their nature through whipping, just to create a spectacle and attract more visitors, then I think it’s unnecessary.”
“I can’t control what other zoos do, but in our zoo, I don’t want to see such things.”
“If we must have performances… the zoo staff can perform instead! At least we can give them extra pay.”
After speaking, Pei Qian paused slightly, realizing he had accidentally spoken his true thoughts.
Of course, not wanting to force animals to do things against their nature was his genuine belief, but there was another important reason—he thought it would be too profitable.
How much would it cost to hire an animal trainer?
And if an animal trainer created a popular show, how much money would that make?
The key was, Pei Qian couldn’t even increase expenses if he wanted to. He couldn’t exactly give bonuses to the animals, could he?
And giving raises to animal trainers wouldn’t amount to much either.
This was definitely an unprofitable deal! They might accidentally make money until they vomited blood, and might even make the entire animal park popular!
So, Pei Qian simply put a stop to these animal performances. Training dogs in a gentle way that aligned with their nature was acceptable, but using whips for forced training seemed unnecessary.
If performances were needed, zoo employees could perform instead.
They could perform anything—after all, what talents could people working at a zoo possibly have?
When it came time for performances, he could simply give extra bonuses to each performer.
Making animals perform wasn’t acceptable—that was oppressing animals. But having humans perform was fine, because they could be paid more, and more pay meant it wasn’t oppression.
Tan Xinzhang scratched his head, feeling that this zoo project seemed somewhat bizarre.
But he didn’t want to question Mr. Pei’s decision, so he simply nodded and agreed to follow all instructions.