Chapter 150 Getting Trouble Upon Yourself: You've Really Got It.
Reason told Wang Xiao that she should stay as far away from things that didn't concern her as possible.
But if one were to be completely rational in life, it would be too boring.
So she followed her heart without hesitation and went straight to check out the gossip.
When she stretched her neck, she even came up with a plausible excuse for herself.
He's a customer, after all. Besides, we've already run into each other, so we should at least say hello.
But the old saying, "curiosity killed the cat," isn't without reason.
With the stretch of her neck, she seized fate by the throat.
Old Zhao's wife, as if grasping at a lifeline, immediately grabbed his arm: "President Wang, you be the judge. How can there be such a logic in the world? My husband is still alive and well, breathing, and his brother is going to take charge for him."
Old Zhao's brother wasn't to be outdone, shouting even louder than her: "Everyone with eyes can see what's wrong with my brother, he's a living dead, just a living dead. If I don't manage his business, why should I let you take it? Who knows who will own the business in the future?"
Old Zhao's wife also raised her voice: "You want me to manage this? If I were to manage it at the card table, I don't know which side I'd be in trouble with! Mr. Wang, you be the judge."
Wang Xiao's comments are utterly baseless.
Even an upright official finds it difficult to settle family disputes, especially since she wasn't an official. She could only try to mediate and smooth things over: "Should we go home first or to the hospital? Getting Old Zhao settled down is the most important thing."
She looked around and called out, "Call 120, we need an ambulance."
A middle-aged man wearing glasses nearby immediately shook his head in opposition: "His condition isn't critical, there's no urgent need for an ambulance! If everyone is like this, how will there be enough ambulances? If someone's condition really becomes critical and they can't get an ambulance, it could lead to someone's death."
He glared angrily at Wang Xiao, "Do you think this is Moscow? Cars are everywhere, and ambulances can be called whenever you want. You people don't care at all about how ordinary people live."
Before Wang Xiao could even blink, someone next to him started arguing: "Hey, you have a phone at home, so why are you worried about not being able to find a car?"
These days, getting a telephone installed is expensive; the initial installation fee alone can cost several thousand yuan. Ordinary people simply can't afford it.
The middle-aged man retorted, "Can't I use a public phone? Aren't there public phones downstairs in your building?"
"Oh dear! In our shantytown, we still have public telephones, we wouldn't even get a turn."
Well, this is the conflict between those who have a secure job and those who don't. It's an internal conflict among urban residents, and outsiders can't interfere.
Without thinking twice, Wang Xiao immediately called 120 (the emergency number in China).
What other vehicle could be used if not an ambulance? He's already in a vegetative state, lying on a stretcher. Who would dare to take him there?
Besides, taxis can't fit a stretcher.
Seeing the parties arguing fiercely, Wang Xiao silently retreated.
Without a word, Ivanov also pulled back his outstretched neck and took a dozen steps back.
Just as they were about to sneak away from the scene, a voice suddenly rang out from the side: "Boss Wang, we don't have enough ambulances. Shouldn't you donate money to buy more?"
Wang Xiao turned his head and saw a young man with a press pass hanging around his neck.
She immediately continued walking, her face gentle: "Yes, our commercial city originally planned to donate ambulances."
Yes, it's an ambulance, not money.
Who knows what will happen to the money if you donate it?
If even flood relief funds are embezzled, what chance do people have of donations of this nature?
The reporter came to the trade city looking for news. There are many people coming and going here, especially Russians, and there are many interesting things happening.
But as he ran for a longer period of time, he became acutely aware of the stark polarization between the rich and the poor.
The rich are truly rich; they are so rich that they make a fortune every day, earning a year's salary in a single day, or even more.
He was highly suspicious: "Was the ambulance donated by your commercial center, or by the merchants who do business inside?"
Without hesitation, Wang Xiao replied, "Of course, our commercial city will take the lead. If other merchants are interested, they can also donate with us. That way, when we negotiate with manufacturers for ambulances, we should be able to get an even better price."
She added, "If there are no manufacturers in China that specialize in producing ambulances, then we will order them from overseas and ship them back to us."
This isn't to criticize domestic car manufacturers, but rather because the ambulance system hasn't been widely implemented in mainland China for very long. To date, there are still cities without ambulances, let alone at the county level.
She explained it in such detail that the reporter was somewhat convinced, but still had doubts: "Are the merchants willing to donate ambulances together with the trade city? Or is it something you requested?"
“Of course it’s their own choice,” Wang Xiao emphasized. “After all, nobody’s money comes from thin air, and when they lose money, nobody’s going to give them money.”
Moreover, under the current domestic system, donations are not tax-deductible.
As long as people don't steal, rob, or commit crimes, how they earn money and how they spend it is their own business, and outsiders have no right to interfere.
Furthermore, if you don't donate money, but instead choose to use more money to pay employees' salaries and bonuses, that's also a way of doing charity, and it can also increase employees' enthusiasm for work.
However, Wang Xiao was still confident that he could persuade everyone to donate together.
Because ambulances can be printed with the names of donors, they are essentially mobile billboards.
Think about it, there are only so many ambulances in the whole city, and none of them can be idle.
They traverse the city's streets and alleys, passing through countless places, and watched by countless eyes.
If you get your own advertising vehicle and hire someone to drive it, you'll have to pay for the fuel and also pay the driver's salary.
The most important point is that even if the driver gets paid, he might not be happy to keep driving around in circles. And you can't ride with him all day.
Sending someone to follow you won't help; sitting in a car all day doing nothing is annoying for anyone.
In the end, nine times out of ten, the driver and the supervisor reach an agreement to slack off together.
Okay, let's assume you're extremely lucky and the driver you hired is a truly honest person. He or she can drive diligently all day without shirking their duties for even a minute.
But if you drive your car on the street, will everyone necessarily see it?
What are you thinking? It's 1993 now, and Jinning City is full of taxis. It's not 1983, when everyone would turn their heads to look when a four-wheeled vehicle appeared on the road.
But it's different when it's an ambulance. It's a special vehicle, and when it walks down the street, everyone can't help but crane their necks and take a second look.
Doesn't this make the advertising effective?
Hurry up, don't miss it!
Don't forget, emergency centers have a limited number of ambulances they need.
If everyone else has already donated, and you're only half a step behind and want to donate, the emergency center won't have enough vehicles.
If you regret it then, who can you donate to? The police station? A police car?
Putting aside whether people want to stare at police cars, police cars are small too, how much space can they give you for advertising?
Think about it yourself. An ambulance can't be driven for ten or twenty years. That's like paying once and getting years of free advertising for you.
And it sounds pleasant too.
Throughout history, those who distribute porridge and medicine are universally recognized as great philanthropists.
The significance of donating ambulances now is similar.
Seriously, if it weren't for our long-standing friendship, I wouldn't tell just anyone about this kind of good fortune that brings both fame and wealth.
Wang Xiao then warmly invited the reporter: "When we purchase and donate the ambulances, please help us spread the word. It's true, pre-hospital emergency care is of extraordinary significance and needs to be widely publicized so that the general public knows that if you encounter an emergency, you can call 120, which can save lives in critical moments."
The reporter was moved by her words and repeatedly promised, "Definitely, definitely. I will not only come to report on it, but I will also invite other colleagues to help promote this matter."
Wang Xiao smiled broadly: "Welcome, welcome."
She was naturally happy to accept it; who doesn't love free advertising?
However, the reporter felt that the advertising was insufficient. More accurately, the media, in general, are quite naive and unaware that the ambulance itself is an advertisement.
Therefore, he felt that Wang Xiao and the International Trade City should be given a good opportunity to promote themselves.
For example—
"The Chinese New Year is just around the corner. I wonder if there are any special events or activities at our trade center?"
What kind of event? A discount? No way.
The Russians don't celebrate the Spring Festival.
The reporter explained, "It's Chinese New Year, are there any celebrations?"
Oh, she understands that.
But Wang Xiao was a hands-off manager; she had no idea whether the commercial city had any Spring Festival activities.
She spent the New Year in Moscow last year.
So she could only turn her head to look at Chen Yu, the person in charge of the commercial city.
The latter noticed the boss's look and his first reaction was to deny it.
What kind of event is this? What kind of event is this?
The fact that the Russians don't celebrate the Lunar New Year means that airports and commercial centers must remain open during the holiday period.
However, the mainstream thinking among Chinese people nowadays is not to take advantage of the Spring Festival to make money, but rather to go home for the Spring Festival, whether they have money or not.
Therefore, in order to ensure the smooth operation of the commercial city, Chen Yu began coordinating personnel arrangements as early as December last year, and had no time to worry about any Spring Festival celebrations.
Was there a celebration? Yes, of course, we gave out money directly.
As an ordinary working person, even though she is now a senior executive, she can't think of any other simpler, more direct, and effective way to celebrate.
All employees who work during the Spring Festival receive five times their normal salary, which she thinks is a good way to celebrate.
But judging from the boss's expression, it seems there should be other celebrations planned?
Without saying a word, Chen Yu immediately fabricated a story, saying, "Yes, of course. Um, give me the money."
As soon as she said it, she realized she had misspoke, but she didn't panic. Instead, she continued, "Give all the customers red envelopes, for good luck during the New Year."
The key point is that the amount of money in the red envelopes is small; just one yuan per person is enough.
Thanks to popularizing the concept through Hong Kong dramas and Cantonese TV series, the reporter knew what red envelopes were, but he was curious: "Are they only given to other customers? Don't they give them to others?"
He saw people giving out red envelopes on TV, and everyone who saw it received one.
Chen Yu almost rolled her eyes.
Are you kidding me? Jinning has a population of five million. Even if only one-fifth of them came, and each person only received one dollar, that would still be one million.
"No." Wang Xiao's attitude was firm. "Too many people would be too dangerous; there's a risk of a stampede."
She wouldn't dare take that risk.
Free food always tastes the best. Besides, everyone's free during the Lunar New Year. If everyone rushes over and a stampede causes deaths, it won't be a holiday but a disaster.
Chen Yu quickly emphasized, "Everyone is welcome to come and watch the performance we've prepared, including a lion dance."
She recounted everything she had seen at the temple fair, describing it in a lively and engaging manner, as if there really was such a carnival.
Wang Xiao mentally gave a thumbs up, "Great job, girl, you've mastered it."
Those who can stand alone must be able to lie without batting an eye.
This year, your red envelope must be big too.
She added from time to time, emphasizing, "Russia doesn't have a Chinatown, and they don't know how Chinese people celebrate the New Year. This is a good opportunity to promote our traditional culture."
Ovechkin, unaware of what was going on, listened with great interest.
He also actively expressed his opinions, requesting to see stilt walking and flower drum opera, though it's unclear where he learned about these things.
Oh, right, we have to set off fireworks, we absolutely have to set off fireworks.
Ivanov was ashamed of him: "What are you watching fireworks for in broad daylight?"
Like him, all he wants to do is set off firecrackers.
But is it okay to slaughter a pig for the New Year? I've heard that pork stew made with slaughtered pig is delicious.
Chen Yu felt like everything was going to go black.
The male boss was even more outrageous than the customers.
Slaughtering pigs in the trade city? What a ridiculous idea of the boss!
Besides, New Year's greetings only begin on the first day of the Lunar New Year. Who would slaughter a pig for the New Year during the first month of the lunar calendar? Preparations for that must be completed by the 26th day of the twelfth lunar month.
However, the reporter was the kind of person who would rather go home and wait for the New Year's Eve dinner than feel that it was inappropriate. He even took notes in his interview notebook in a serious manner.
While they were talking animatedly and writing rapidly, someone else rushed over at lightning speed.
"Comrade reporter, come and be my witness."
Old Zhao's wife gritted her teeth, as if she were making a fierce vow, "I dare to swear in front of everyone today, and let the people of the whole country watch me. I, Zheng Xiufang, will stay by Old Zhao's side for the rest of my life, even if he is in a vegetative state and never wakes up. I will still protect this family for him."
The reporter was pulled over by her and had no choice but to act as her tool.
Zheng Xiufang shouted at the top of her lungs, "Come, come, everyone, be my witnesses! I was born a member of the Zhao family, and I will die a member of the Zhao family. As long as Old Zhao has a breath left, our family will never fall apart."
Old Zhao's brother had an even louder voice than his sister-in-law, and he shouted until his voice cracked: "You're saying nice things now, but who knows what will happen in the future?"
"I'll have the reporter write it out clearly for me right now," Zheng Xiufang vowed. "If I can't do it in the future, anyone can come and scold me to death with the newspaper."
Wang Xiao felt it was unnecessary, but she also understood Zheng Xiufang's difficulties.
Before she transmigrated into the book, her senior in the university club was a nursing student.
When my senior came back from her hospital internship, she told them that no matter how much the internet exaggerates, the reality is that men and women are not equal, and they are completely unequal in terms of family power.
The situation at the hospital is that as long as her husband signs off on how to resuscitate and treat the female patient, there are no problems.
However, when it comes to male patients, the hospital doesn't dare let their wives make the decisions; usually, the man's family members have to come along to make a decision.
As for Zheng Xiufang, few people nowadays would think that as a wife, she should naturally accept her husband's business.
She had to erect a monument to her chastity in order to have any chance of taking control of the family business.
Oh no, to be more precise, it's about managing the business on behalf of my son who's still in elementary school.
I don't know whose tragedy it really is.
“Write it,” Zheng Xiufang urged. “I’m a man of my word, I do what I say.”
An older person nearby advised her, "Oh, young lady, you shouldn't be like this. You need to look ahead."
But before he could finish speaking, he was immediately pulled back by his companion.
Anyone with eyes can see that this isn't a question of love or not; it's clearly a battle for family fortune.
Old Zhao's brother was still shouting, "What good are your pretty words anyway!"
Just as Wang Xiao was about to retreat again due to the noise, the distant sound of police sirens finally came, accompanied by flashing red lights.
Thank goodness, the ambulance finally arrived.
Doctors and nurses in white coats got out of the ambulance, pushing a stretcher and shouting, "Who called 120? Where is the patient?"
Wang Xiao quickly raised her hand: "I...I...I did it. The patient—"
Her eyes darted around before she noticed the stretcher that had been pushed out of the crowd without her noticing: "Here, here."
She then explained the situation, "The Russian doctors said he has become a vegetable."
The doctor was experienced and knowledgeable. Even though it was almost Chinese New Year, upon hearing of such a human tragedy, he simply said "oh" and reached out to pull up the blanket to check on the patient's condition.
He touched her head, then looked at her eyelids, then felt her neck, and finally put down the stethoscope, only lifting her lower eyelids: "You've dialed the wrong number. You shouldn't have called 120, you should have called the crematorium. She's completely dead."
ah? !
Everyone was taken aback.
Honestly, nobody noticed. In fact, if the doctor hadn't pointed it out, they wouldn't have known the difference between the person before and now.
Zheng Xiufang stared wide-eyed at her husband's corpse as if struck by lightning, then let out a mournful cry like a mother beast. She lunged forward and wailed, "Old Zhao, Old Zhao—how are we, a widow and orphan, going to live now that you're gone?"
She turned her head, her gaze fixed on Old Zhao's brother with murderous intent, "You, it's you! Are you even human? You'd kill your own brother just to seize our family's property!"
Old Zhao's brother was clearly a bit dazed. He only came to his senses when someone pointed a finger at him and started cursing. He immediately retorted loudly, "Pah! What a load of bull! This is my own brother. It was you, you vile woman, who couldn't wait to go out and have fun and killed Old Zhao."
The onlookers, listening to their mutual accusations and feeling unable to find the truth, could only turn to the doctor for help: "Doctor, how did this person die? Was it poisoning?"
Oh my goodness, these words have caused quite a stir.
The doctor quickly distanced himself: "How would I know? I'm not a forensic doctor. Besides, forensic doctors have to dissect corpses; otherwise, even a god wouldn't know."
Then, his words were like adding fuel to the fire; the masses have such a strong capacity for divergent thinking.
This forced him to reiterate, "He might have been careless and suffocated by the blanket. Since he's already in a vegetative state, he's not even as good as a baby. Babies can suffocate while sleeping, let alone him."
In the dead of winter, to keep him warm, he was covered with blankets and quilts, weighing a good ten or twenty kilograms.
From the outside, it's impossible to tell whether his nose and mouth are being pressed down.
In addition, his wife and brother are busy fighting for ownership and management of the property, so no one has time to pay attention to him.
Sigh, what's the point of living a whole life if things end up like this?
In the crucial moment, no one could be relied upon.
Wang Xiao fell silent for a moment.
Zheng Xiufang, however, could not accept this explanation, or rather, he...
Her position dictated that she had to be suspicious. She grabbed her husband's brother's arm and loudly accused him: "He's the one who did it! He would even kill his own brother just to eat the spoils of his family."
Old Zhao's brother, of course, refused to admit it: "Bullshit! You promiscuous Pan Jinlian, how dare you say such a thing?"
The police finally arrived, whistling to signal everyone to make way.
Seeing that they were going to argue for who knows how long, the police officers had no choice but to take them away: "Alright, alright, let's talk it out at the station. You can't clear things up here."
Some of the onlookers, mostly Russians, looked around curiously and asked, "Why did he do that? How did he die?"
Wang Xiao's slight sympathy for Old Zhao quickly turned into: Bah! What bad luck.
No matter how much you try to hide, you can't escape dying on your own turf.
Hey, hurry up and get two strings of firecrackers to set off some bad luck.
However, before that, she must emphasize: "He was attacked by the Mafia in Moscow and became a vegetable."
oh--
The Russians suddenly realized what was going on.
It's Moscow, then there's no problem.
As long as it didn't happen in Jinning, that's fine.
They said that Jinning is a very safe place, and such a thing would never happen.
Look, there are always a large number of soldiers patrolling around the commercial city. Even thieves are terrified when they come here and dare not make any rash moves.
In Moscow, hey, you might encounter three groups of pickpockets on a single subway ride.
Wang Xiao felt ashamed upon hearing this, feeling that he was not worthy of the responsibility.
Because the reality is quite similar, the current public security situation in China is also in a rather dire state.
The government isn't so incompetent that it needs the Mafia to help it maintain order.
"Hey, let's call it a day," Wang Xiao urged everyone. "Hurry up and get on with your own business, don't miss your flight."
After listening to the translator's explanation for a long time, Ovechkin became increasingly confused about the complex marital and clan relationships in China.
He asked Wang Xiao, looking completely bewildered, "Miss Wang, will Zhao's business go to his wife or his brother?"
Wang Xiao shrugged and spread his hands: "These things are hard to explain."
From a legal perspective, his wife's inheritance rights should be greater than those of his brothers.
However, in rural areas, many things are not governed by law.
As for how it will end, only God knows.
Ovechkin looked at her with pity: "My God, that lady is so pitiful."
Wang Xiao sighed, "This is something we can't control. Alright, let's go. If you want to invest here, I'll introduce you to someone and even hire a lawyer to accompany you."
The investment promotion conferences for the Jinning Grand Hotel have been ongoing without interruption. Moreover, due to the agglomeration effect, people from all over the country have come to promote the hotel.
With money in hand, how could you be afraid of not being able to spend it? It'll be gone in no time.
Ivanov nodded vigorously, "Yes, yes, yes, you can take your time to choose, you'll definitely find the right one."
Good heavens, he can finally get rid of this nuisance.
He felt that the sky was clearer than when he arrived.
He underestimated Ovechkin's shamelessness.
Even on the 26th of the twelfth lunar month, when he went with Wang Xiao to the sex toy factory to watch people slaughter pigs for the New Year, Ovechkin's phone call came again, as if haunting him.
This time, the guy was yelling for help.
Wang Xiaoqi asked curiously, "What's wrong with you?"
"I bought a factory here."
"Then what?"
"Then someone came and caused trouble."
"Why?"
"Because I bought Ms. Zheng's factory."
Ovechkin, fearing she might not understand, kindly reminded her, "She is Old Zhao's widow."
Wang Xiao was completely baffled by what he heard.
You son of a bitch! There are thousands upon thousands of factories in China, and just in the Jiangdong and Jiangbei regions alone, there are tens of thousands of factories that could be taken over.
Why did you have to buy her factory of all sorts of factories? Are you afraid of not having enough trouble?
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Ugh, Jin has to go back to work tomorrow. Because on her first official day back, her boss needs materials for a meeting at 9 AM, so Jin has to cut her vacation short.
I hate meetings! Thank you to all the little angels who voted for me or watered my plants between 2024-02-15 07:34:04 and 2024-02-16 07:13:23!
Thank you to the little angels who watered the nutrient solution: This lady daily 10,000 bottles 88 bottles; Half Little 10 bottles; Affirmation 6 bottles; Karen Xingwei, Yuanyuan, Little P, and Luyaly 1 bottle each;
Thank you so much for your support! I will continue to work hard!
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