Chapter 201 Motive
Even yesterday's charity fundraising was ridiculously oversubscribed.
Within twenty minutes, the amount of money doubled, the number of donors surged, and the platform crashed at one point.
At the time, she thought she had finally won back people's hearts.
Looking back now—it all went so smoothly.
It was as if someone had been pushing her forward from behind.
It's as if an unseen hand paved every step in the dark.
I'm just waiting for her to step on it, then I'll kick her into the abyss.
Even when Jiang Li caused such a huge scandal, she didn't intervene or get held accountable.
Everyone assumed she was innocent, as if it were her natural duty.
A thought suddenly flashed through my mind.
She stared intently at Song Zhiwei, her pupils contracting sharply, her voice almost forced out through clenched teeth:
"Where is Jiang Li...?"
Song Zhiwei looked at her, her tone light and airy, as if she were talking about the weather.
"Jiang Li? Didn't you just say you didn't know him at all?"
Song Xiaoxiao's mind went blank for a moment.
It felt as if a string inside my head had suddenly snapped.
I let it slip.
She clenched her teeth, her cheek muscles tensed, and she tried to remain calm. Her voice was still steady, but there was a slight, almost imperceptible tremor.
“We journalists rely on evidence. I haven’t broken the law, and I certainly wouldn’t instruct anyone to do anything wrong.”
As soon as he finished speaking, a commotion arose from the back of the crowd.
People instinctively made way for him, and all eyes turned to that direction.
A man wearing an old jacket and looking travel-worn squeezed out.
He was not tall and was rather thin. His jacket was faded from washing and the cuffs were frayed.
His face bore the weariness of a long journey, his stubble was messy, and his eyes were sunken, yet he exuded a stubborn clarity.
He was carrying an old briefcase, its edges worn and the zipper held together with wire.
He approached Song Xiaoxiao with a troubled expression, his voice soft but clear:
"Ms. Song, I'm sorry, the donation you promised yesterday hasn't arrived yet."
The air suddenly became still.
All eyes were on Song Xiaoxiao's face, waiting for her response.
This year has been plagued by natural disasters, with floods arriving suddenly and fiercely without warning.
A torrential rain lasted for three days and three nights, causing the river to swell and the dam to collapse.
The floodwaters swept away villages and submerged farmland like a ferocious beast, turning an entire county upside down.
Government funding is slow, approvals are layered and procedures are cumbersome, and disaster victims are suffering while waiting without water and electricity.
Everyone was getting impatient. There was no formula for the babies, no medicine for the elderly, not enough tents, and a food shortage.
Every minute and every second is a matter of life and death.
During her live stream that day, Song Xiaoxiao confidently declared, "I can get it transferred the fastest here; it can be done today!"
Her tone was firm, her gaze fixed intently on the camera, and she slammed her hand heavily on the table with a sharp "smack," as if afraid the audience might not hear her promise clearly.
Her face wore a confident smile, and her eyes exuded an unquestionable sense of authority, as if the transfer of this donation was a done deal.
She promised that the money would arrive within an hour through Haicheng's charitable foundation.
As soon as she finished speaking, she even held up her phone to show the viewers in the live stream a draft of the transfer interface. Although she didn't actually do anything, those few lines of numbers and the bank name were enough to reassure them.
"I've already got the finance department ready."
She added in a clear voice, "Don't worry, everyone, it won't take a single second."
The internet exploded instantly, with donations exceeding 90 million yuan, and even large companies contributing money.
The barrage of comments scrolled by like a tide, and the comment section was instantly flooded with "The Song family is responsible" and "This is the true style of a big company".
Major media accounts immediately reposted the news, and official media also gave it their thumbs up. In an instant, Song Xiaoxiao's image was elevated to a pedestal, becoming a "model entrepreneur of the new era."
Well-known companies made payments one after another, and even some groups that were initially hesitant quickly followed suit, afraid of missing this opportunity for positive exposure.
But after waiting all night, the account was still empty.
Time ticked by, but the charity foundation's official account still showed no sign of any payments from the Song Group.
Staff repeatedly checked the bank system to confirm that the information was correct, but the transaction records were still blank.
At 3 a.m., the staff on duty couldn't help but call to confirm, but only received a vague reply: "It's being processed."
The people in the organization couldn't sit still any longer.
The person in charge is the project manager of the charity foundation, surnamed Chen. He has been in the industry for ten years and has handled countless large-scale fundraising projects without ever making a mistake.
He stared at the computer screen, his brows furrowing deeper and deeper, fine beads of sweat appearing on his forehead.
I kept making calls, but either no one answered or I was transferred to voicemail with no reply in sight.
This is no small sum of money; every penny is being watched closely, and no one dares to make a mistake.
More than 90 million is not just a number, but also the focus of countless eyes and the bottom line of public trust.
If problems arise, not only will the foundation's reputation be damaged, but the companies, celebrities, and ordinary people who support it will also be thrust into the spotlight.
He sat in his office, phone in hand, his face grave, as if one could hear the impending explosion of public opinion.
He had no choice but to make a trip to the Song Group himself.
At seven o'clock in the morning, just as dawn was breaking, he drove to the front of the Song Group headquarters building.
The glass curtain wall reflects a cold light, and the entire building soars into the clouds, exuding an imposing aura.
After registering at the front desk, he was led to the president's office on the sixteenth floor, where he sat on the sofa, holding a folder in his hand, his knuckles turning slightly white.
Song Xiaoxiao's face immediately darkened.
She had just finished the morning meeting, wearing a sharp black suit, her hair neatly pulled back, and her expression aloof.
The moment she saw Manager Chen, the corner of her mouth twitched slightly, and a hint of impatience flashed in her eyes, but she quickly suppressed it.
"What's wrong?"
She sat down in a calm tone, but with a noticeable distance between her and others.
"I am the heir of the Song family, why would I covet your little bit of money?"
She gave a cold laugh, her voice laced with sarcasm and disdain.
"When have I, Song Xiaoxiao, ever gone back on my word? Who in the entire Haicheng doesn't know the reputation of the Song family?"
As she spoke, she tapped her finger lightly on the table, her sharp gaze sweeping over the other person as if questioning his motives.
Her tone turned colder. "I'll have the finance department investigate immediately."
After saying that, she pressed the internal phone and said in a curt tone, "Have the finance manager come to my office within ten minutes."
After hanging up, she looked at Manager Chen again, her expression slightly softened, but still carrying an undeniable air of authority.
"I know you can't..."
He wiped the sweat from his forehead, his voice trembling slightly.
He sat with his hands folded on his knees, his posture stiff, and beads of sweat trickled down his temples.
"But the pressure from below is intense, many companies are waiting for press releases, and I really can't handle it anymore."
His voice grew softer and softer, almost pleading, "You know, the public opinion is so heated right now, the media is watching closely, we can't just release a press release saying the money hasn't arrived yet, can we?"
"How about... you take me to the finance office?"
He mustered his courage to make the request, his voice soft but carrying an unavoidable pressure.
"Even just confirming the progress of the process would be helpful, so I can explain it to everyone when I get back."
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