Chapter Fourteen: Infighting
Lu Xiaoyu had been uncharacteristically irritable lately. His dissatisfaction with Sun Zhentao was growing stronger by the day, especially after learning about Zhou Donghai’s incident. He was filled with complaints toward this muddled, nepotistic boss. He couldn't understand why Sun Zhentao had let that useless Zhou Donghai into the company, and he resented Sun’s habit of taking money without doing any real work, spending his days indulging in food, drink, and pleasure. In Lu Xiaoyu’s eyes, he was the true core of the company—Sun Zhentao and his troupe of clowns should long since have been replaced.
The more Lu Xiaoyu thought about it, the angrier he became. Unconsciously, his hand had bent the soup spoon he was holding. He felt that he had to act now. He didn’t trust that useless Zhou Donghai to keep the company’s secrets, and he wasn’t about to let his own career be ruined by that fool. Silently, he told himself, “I can’t let Sun Zhentao steer this company any longer. It’s time to replace this inept leader.”
Lu Xiaoyu had already secured the support of two leaders. Zhou Donghai was in prison, and of the remaining three, two were die-hard loyalists of Sun Zhentao—Lu Xiaoyu knew they would never back him. So his next step was to win over the last one. If he could do that, victory would be his.
As for that fence-sitter, Lu Xiaoyu was supremely confident he could bring him over. What still troubled him, however, was Sun Zhentao’s control over the expert and technical teams. Lu Xiaoyu knew their so-called leaders were little more than a ragtag bunch, and only by controlling those two groups could he truly topple Sun Zhentao. But those teams had always reported directly and exclusively to Sun. No one knew how to reach them, nor where they were based.
Still, Lu Xiaoyu decided to force Sun Zhentao’s hand at the upcoming company meeting. This was a rare opportunity—if not for Zhou Donghai’s trouble, he’d never have had the chance to unseat Sun. Opportunity knocked but once; he had to act now.
If he could wrest the expert and technical teams from Sun’s hands, all the better. If not, he could always build new ones—after all, he had plenty of money, and if anyone understood the power of money, it was Lu Xiaoyu.
Today, Qingtong was shrouded in heavy clouds, the sun blotted out, as if rain were imminent. It was the rainy season, and sunny days were few. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and the air was thick with moisture. The downpour was coming, and with it, the moment of triumph or defeat. Sitting in his car, Lu Xiaoyu clenched his fists. He’d just secured Zhang Zhijun, the fence-sitter, and now it was time to lay his cards on the table.
“Gathering at the Gate,” a rustic restaurant on the outskirts of Qingtong, was unusually lively on this blustery, ominous day. The open space before the house was filled with cars, and the idyllic rural landscape was tainted by the influx of modernity. The wooden house creaked and swayed in the wind.
Two burly men in black suits scrutinized arrivals at the door. Only a boss like Lu Xiaoyu could enter unhindered; others were left waiting outside.
Inside, Lu Xiaoyu saw that Sun Zhentao had not yet arrived, but his own two supporters were already seated. He exchanged glances with them, signaling that Zhang Zhijun was now on their side. The three sat quietly, saying nothing, as a young woman in a cheongsam moved about, pouring tea.
Zhang Zhijun, Zhang Zili, and Sun Shengcai entered the room behind Sun Zhentao. Zhang Zhijun immediately pulled the young woman into his arms, ogling her shamelessly as if no one else were present. Sun Zhentao couldn’t help but laugh at Zhang’s impatience. “Zhijun, if you want to have fun, wait until we’ve finished our business. Can’t you hold off a little? Aren’t the ones at home enough for you?”
Zhang Zhijun grinned sheepishly. “I can’t control myself when I see a beautiful woman. I used to be so poor I had nothing—now that I have something, I can’t get enough!”
Lu Xiaoyu looked at Zhang Zhijun in disdain. He’d always avoided associating with such lechers, but today was different—Zhang Zhijun was a crucial card in his hand, and Lu Xiaoyu treated him kindly, knowing the price he offered would not be refused. Today, Zhang would stand with him.
Sun Zhentao surveyed the room. From left to right sat Zhang Zili, Lü Yue, Lu Xiaoyu, Zhou Qiang, Zhang Zhijun, and Sun Shengcai—six lieutenants in all. Sun gave Zhang Zhijun a look, signaling him to let go of the woman. Reluctantly, Zhang released her. Now, only these seven men remained.
Sun Zhentao began, “We’ve all done well these past years. Three years ago, I left the village with nothing, no friends or family in Qingtong. Tried to do business, but was always chased off by the city inspectors or arrested by the police. I was a stray dog, with only Zhang Zili, Lü Yue, and Lu Xiaoyu by my side—we were as destitute as could be.”
He paused, then continued, “But fate didn’t abandon me. I, Sun Zhentao, didn’t starve—I made something of myself. Our group of four grew into the Eight Guardians. Now, plenty of brothers rely on us for a living. Back in the village, no one gave us a second look. Now, they treat us like gods of wealth.”
The men laughed. Zhang Zili said, “It’s all thanks to you. Not only do we not go hungry, we’re making big money. Where else could we be so well-off, with women on each arm? If we touched someone else, we’d be in jail!”
Sun Zhentao laughed along, though Zhang Zhijun’s laugh was awkward. He scratched his head and said to Zhang Zili, “Don’t tease me. You may not be lecherous, but you gamble. If not for Brother Sun, someone would’ve hacked you to death by now.”
Sun waved for silence. “Let’s not dwell on our vices—whether it’s women, gambling, or greed, every man has his habits. That’s not why I called you here. We all know about Zhou Donghai’s trouble. We’re here to decide how to handle it.”
“That guy was too careless,” Zhang Zili said. “How could he get caught in our line of work? He’s been at this for two years, hasn’t he learned anything? Surely he didn’t use his own bank card to get paid—or did he show up in person to arrange the server? He’s timid, always following orders—I can’t believe he’d ignore your instructions.”
Sun Zhentao shook his head. “I doubt it. Zhou Donghai isn’t that stupid, and he wouldn’t have been reported by the server people. Zhang Zili is his biggest client—there’s no way Zhou would risk meeting him, and even if he did, they wouldn’t turn him in. After all, he’s the one making the money.”
“Could it be someone in his crew betrayed us?” Zhang Zili had never trusted Zhou’s taste in people, thinking he surrounded himself with kids—immature, unreliable, and likely to produce traitors.
“We don’t know yet. Whether there’s a mole, and if so, whether it’s in Zhou Donghai’s team or elsewhere, is still unclear,” Sun said, glancing around the room. “But the cause doesn’t matter right now—what matters is what we do next. Do we shut things down for a while? Let’s hear everyone’s thoughts.”
“Boss, we don’t need to shut down everything, do we?” Zhang Zili pleaded. “A lot of brothers depend on this for their livelihood—if we stop, what will they eat? We can’t all go hungry because of one Zhou Donghai.” The others echoed his sentiment.
Sun Shengcai asked, “Brother, do you think Zhou Donghai will give us up?”
Sun nodded. “He’s timid. If the police scare him, he might crack.”
Sun Shengcai disagreed. “I doubt it. He’s timid, but he’s not dumb. He wouldn’t be broken by a few cops. Besides, he doesn’t even speak Mandarin—if he wanted to confess, the police wouldn’t understand him!” Laughter rippled through the room.
Lü Yue interjected, “What if he was arrested by officers from Songbei?”
Suddenly, a chill ran through Sun Shengcai. If it really was the police from Songbei, Zhou Donghai might not hold out—they might all end up behind bars.
“I’ve already sent someone to find out who exactly took Zhou Donghai. For now, everyone should lay low—let the brothers have a holiday, have some fun, and we’ll regroup once we know more. Also, I think we should all contribute some money for Zhou Donghai—as a settlement. What do you think?” Sun asked.
“Boss, whatever you decide is fine with us. I don’t have any objections—just a little tight on cash lately. You know I’m not a saver, and if business stops, I’ll have even less. I might not be able to give much to Donghai!” Zhang Zhijun said with a grin.
Zhang Zili was annoyed by Zhang Zhijun’s cowardice. “You’ve always got excuses. When it’s time to help the company, you disappear, but when there’s something good, you’re first in line. You want all the benefits for yourself? Boss’s word is final—stop complaining.”
Sun Zhentao, head bowed, stirred his tea, then suddenly looked up at Zhang Zhijun. Zhang, about to retort, caught the cold glint in Sun’s eyes and fell silent.
Sun turned to Lu Xiaoyu, who had been silent the entire meeting—uncharacteristic for the group’s strategist. Sun wanted to hear his thoughts. “Xiaoyu, what do you think? Share your ideas with us.”
Lu Xiaoyu had been turning over his plan in his mind. When Sun called on him, he knew the time had come to lay his cards on the table. He looked at Sun and said, “After Zhou Donghai’s trouble, I’ve been thinking about where we went wrong. At first, it was just the four of us—times were tough, but we were united, working together for a better life. Then Zhou Qiang and Zhang Zhijun joined us, and the team became even stronger. The business grew, the money increased, and we went from a small workshop to a big company.”
He paused, looking around. Everyone was silent, tacitly agreeing with his assessment. The company’s growth had been staggering, and they had all contributed and benefited.
Lu Xiaoyu continued, “But as we grew, we lost that unity. I remember when Zhou Donghai first came, he greeted everyone with a smile, was polite and obedient—maybe not the brightest, but willing to listen and learn. But in just six months, he got arrogant. He started skipping meetings, even lied and said it was on your orders, Boss.”
He glanced at Sun Zhentao, who listened expressionlessly, though the mention of Zhou Donghai’s absence raised questions in his mind.
Seeing no one interrupt him, Lu Xiaoyu pressed on. “He stopped respecting us. I told him not to take on business that was too large—big trees attract the wind and invite trouble. But he didn’t listen, did things his own way.”
“He never vetted his recruits—just a bunch of self-willed guys who spent their time drinking and bragging. Their group was the most ostentatious in the company, as if they wanted everyone to notice us. Our success depended on keeping a low profile—no one knew we existed outside the company, so trouble never found us. With his behavior, it’s no wonder we were targeted.”
The others began to criticize Zhou Donghai’s failings, and the room filled with noise. With the scapegoat fallen, everyone was eager to kick him while he was down. Though Zhou Donghai had been the last to join, he’d acted like Sun’s right hand—everyone knew it was with Sun’s approval, and no one would have dared complain if not for his arrest. Now, all their resentment found release.
Sun Zhentao, for his part, was at a loss. He’d called this meeting to strategize, to have everyone lay low and try to find out what had happened to Zhou Donghai—had he ratted them out? Did they need to run? But instead, the meeting had become a trial.
In truth, Sun knew all about Zhou Donghai’s behavior—none of it happened without his tacit approval. He’d wanted to groom someone to balance Lu Xiaoyu, but now the plan had backfired. He felt like a thief who’d lost both the chicken and the rice.
Lu Xiaoyu, like Sun, didn’t join in the accusations. He sat quietly, studying Sun Zhentao’s face, watching him sip tea. Lu Xiaoyu knew Sun wasn’t one to be taken lightly. Now that he’d laid his cards on the table, there could be no turning back. Success was the only option.
Suddenly, Lu Xiaoyu cleared his throat, and the room fell silent. With calm certainty, he continued, “I’ve also discovered irregularities in Zhou Donghai’s accounts. We’re all supposed to turn over half our earnings to the company. Zhou’s business is good, but he’s turned in less than anyone. I thought something was off, so I investigated. Turns out he’s only contributed at most thirty percent, even though he uses the company’s resources the most. The games he runs are all built by the company, yet he brings in the least profit for everyone. Is that fair?”
At this, the room erupted. Personal flaws were irritating, but not fatal—everyone had their friends and enemies. They’d tolerated Zhou’s quirks because they’d worked together for so long. But when it came to money, things changed. The closest comrades could become enemies, and even the bitterest foes might make common cause. Now, Zhou Donghai was the common enemy.
The men savaged Zhou Donghai, but Sun Zhentao suddenly realized what Lu Xiaoyu was doing—he was shaking the tree to scare the tiger. Zhou was just an excuse; his real target was Sun himself. But was he trying to take over Zhou’s operation, or was he just angling for a bigger share?
Sun waited for Lu Xiaoyu to state his true purpose. The meeting had veered far from his original intent. Clearly, Zhou’s arrest was not the real problem—the real issue was right here, in this room.
Lu Xiaoyu abruptly asked, “Boss Sun, are you aware of how much Zhou paid the company?”
Everyone fell silent, eyes on Sun.
Sun realized Lu Xiaoyu’s question was a trap—if he admitted knowing Zhou paid less, he’d be accused of favoritism. If he claimed ignorance, he’d be called incompetent. Either way, the others would be displeased.
Sun hesitated, but with everyone waiting, he had no choice. “I’ve heard some things about discrepancies in his payments. I’m investigating. I didn’t bring it up because I wanted to be sure before accusing a brother.”
“And how far has your investigation gone?” Lu Xiaoyu pressed.
“What’s your problem, Lu Xiaoyu? Don’t you trust the boss? He said he’s investigating and he is—when he’s done, he’ll tell you. Why so impatient?” Zhang Zili suddenly snapped. He also wanted to know about Zhou’s accounts, but disliked Lu Xiaoyu’s aggressive questioning.
“Actually, we all want to know the outcome,” Zhou Qiang countered. “And it’s not your place to speak up. Why not tell us about the time you used company funds to pay off your gambling debts?”
“I—what about me?” Zhang Zili faltered, his voice suddenly meek.
“Aren’t we talking about Zhou Donghai? Why bring me into it? I’ll pay the money back in a few days when I’m flush again,” he muttered.
Sun Zhentao looked at Zhang Zili—trouble upon trouble. Zhang was a big, simple man, but loyal to a fault, never two-faced, and had been with Sun from the start. Sun had often helped Zhang with business and given him good deals, even helping to train his men. But Zhang’s gambling habit was incurable. When they were poor, it didn’t matter, but now with money, his gambling had grown. He’d even been chased by debt collectors to Sun’s door, causing endless headaches. Though Zhang always promised to change, he’d relapse within days, sometimes using company money to pay debts—though he always repaid it. Sun had stopped bothering to scold him. He hadn’t expected it to come up today.
Sun said, “Looks like we have quite a few problems in the company. We’re all brothers who built this together, each with our quirks, but now that issues have been raised, let’s lay them all out and solve them together.”
“Personal quirks are fine,” Lu Xiaoyu said, “but we all eat from the same pot. We can’t let a few ruin it for everyone. This is more than personal habits—it’s a management issue. The company isn’t one man’s, it’s the result of everyone’s hard work. We can’t let a few people wreck it.”
“The old management style doesn’t work anymore. We need new rules and regulations. If everyone depends on the company to eat, we can’t act on whim—there must be order, or it’s unfair to everyone.” Lu Xiaoyu looked at Sun Zhentao as he finished.
Zhang Zili was furious, jumping up and pointing at Lu Xiaoyu, “I see what’s going on—you want to seize power! ‘The company isn’t one man’s’—you mean it’s not yours and that bothers you? Have you forgotten everything Boss Sun’s done for you? Where’s your conscience?”
Sun coughed, signaling Zhang to stop, then said, “What Xiaoyu says is true. A company should act like a company. We used to just struggle for survival, so rules seemed useless, even a burden. But things have changed. The operation is huge now, with hundreds relying on us. With so many people, there have to be rules or the company will collapse. Zhou Donghai is an example—if he hadn’t run wild, he’d still be here. If you all think the current management style doesn’t work, I won’t oppose making new rules.”
Seeing Zhang Zili’s reluctance, Sun shook his head and continued, “This company belongs to everyone, not just me. I’m in this position only because you all accepted me and believed I could make life better. Of course, I’m human and have my shortcomings. If you think someone else is better suited, I’m willing to step aside.”
Lu Xiaoyu seized the moment. “Let’s set some rules. I have a few suggestions: First, all accounts must be clear—everyone should know who earns what and how much is turned in. No more situations where those with the best business pay the least. Second, business responsibilities need adjusting. Before, everyone managed their own people and deals, with no overlap—some thrived, some starved. But we all eat from the same pot, so profits and people should be shared, with clear rewards and punishments, more work, more pay. Third, the technical and expert teams. Since the company supports them, everyone should know who they are—they should be managed by the company as a whole.”
He paused. “These are my suggestions. I hope Boss Sun and everyone else will consider them.”
Sun smiled, knowing that calls for financial transparency and unified management were just window dressing—the real aim was control of the expert and technical teams. That was his trump card. The others handed over half their earnings because they knew that without those teams, their business would collapse, and hiring outsiders was risky. Sun’s people were the safest. He had chosen them carefully—they were his ticket to power. If Lu Xiaoyu wanted the business or the money, that was negotiable, but those two teams—he’d sooner die than hand them over.
Sun asked, “Anyone else? Any other suggestions?”
No one spoke.
“Very well,” Sun said. “Let’s vote. No one-man rule today—everyone gets a say. First, on financial transparency: All money goes to the company, which distributes it. Raise your hand if you agree.”
As soon as Sun finished, Lu Xiaoyu raised his hand. Zhou Qiang and Lü Yue followed. Zhang Zili glared at them, cursing them inwardly. When he saw Zhang Zhijun slowly raise his hand, his eyes widened. But the next moment surprised even Sun and Lu Xiaoyu—Sun’s own brother, Sun Shengcai, raised his hand too.
Sun stared in disbelief. Of the seven present, five supported Lu Xiaoyu—including his own brother. Was blood really outweighed by profit? He forced a bitter smile. “Fine, fine. Since most agree, it’s passed. Now, the second proposal—business reorganization, unified management. Raise your hand if you agree.”
Again, five hands went up.
Zhang Zili couldn’t stand it, leaping up and pointing at them. “You’re rebelling! Got a little power and now you’re turning on the boss? Where’s your loyalty, your code? This is betrayal—biting the hand that fed you!” He turned to Sun Shengcai. “Are you out of your mind? Your own brother’s the boss, and you’re siding with them? Got brain damage? Go home and get yourself checked out—don’t embarrass yourself here.”
Sun also stood, walked over, and pressed Zhang back into his seat. Then he returned to his own chair. “I said, this company belongs to everyone, not just me. If everyone agrees, then it’s settled. Shengcai is my brother, but also a member of the company—he’s done nothing wrong.”
He continued, “So those two proposals are passed. As for the technical and expert teams, I’ll need to speak with them first. If they’re willing, we’ll proceed. If not, I can’t force them—they could easily find other work. I’ll check with them, and if they agree, we’ll vote again.”
Sun knew he couldn’t stay boss any longer. Not even his own brother supported him. With seven people here and at least four on Lu Xiaoyu’s side, there was no way to hold on. These men had once been his closest brothers and subordinates, but now they all opposed him. Sun couldn’t understand how it had come to this—why had everyone turned against him?
He gave a bitter smile. “I see now—I really haven’t lived up to this position. I’ll step down. You can decide who takes over. This meeting’s gone on longer than I expected—I have soup simmering at home, I can’t leave it unattended, so I’ll leave you to discuss.” With that, Sun stood, and without looking back, walked out the door. Zhang Zili, fuming, followed him out.
Outside “Gathering at the Gate,” the rain was pouring down. Without hesitation, Sun dashed to his car, not even waiting for his men to bring him an umbrella. He opened the door, got in, and drove away, disappearing into the storm.