Chapter 47 Unexpected Events in Business Negotiations
Tuesday morning at 10:00 AM, Conference Room No. 3 at the Huo Group headquarters.
The air was frozen solid, like a block of ice.
On one side of the long conference table sat Huo Yanli's six-person negotiation team, while on the other side sat three representatives from a sovereign wealth fund in the UAE. This should have been a crucial moment for both sides to sign the letter of intent for investment, but at this moment, everyone's expression was grim.
The problem occurred an hour ago.
The originally designated chief representative, Sheikh Mohammed, was unable to attend at the last minute due to illness, and was replaced by his cousin, Sheikh Abdul. The new representative, around fifty years old, wore a traditional white robe and a red and white checkered turban, and had a solemn expression. His first words after sitting down plunged the entire meeting room into an awkward silence:
"I only use Arabic for negotiations."
The Arabic translator hired by Huo was a middle-aged man in his forties, and sweat was already beading on his forehead. He tried to translate a few times, but it was clear that he was struggling—his translations were starting to falter when faced with professional financial terminology and complex legal clauses.
“Excuse me, I need to confirm something,” the translator interrupted the negotiation for the third time, turning to Huo Yanli, his voice tense, “The ‘preferred stock anti-dilution clause’ that the other party just mentioned has several different translations in Arabic. I need to confirm what it specifically refers to…”
Huo Yanli raised his hand to stop him.
“Take a fifteen-minute break,” he said in English, then turned to the other person and added in fluent but not fluent Arabic, “Mr. Sheikh Abdul, we need a little time to adjust the translation support.”
Abdul nodded, his expression unchanged, but a subtle scrutiny flashed in his eyes.
The atmosphere was heavy in the corridor outside the meeting room.
"What's going on?" Huo Yanli asked the project manager, suppressing his anger. "Didn't we confirm that the other party's negotiation language was English?"
“The originally chosen Sheikh Mohammed was indeed fluent in English,” the person in charge said, wiping his sweat, “but this Abdul… the information we found shows that he has been in charge of traditional investments domestically, rarely participates in international negotiations, and is said to have a certain… insistence on non-Arabic languages.”
"Persist?" Huo Yanli sneered. "Now is not the time to persist. This project is related to the Huo family's layout in the Middle East over the next five years. It's a three billion dollar investment, and we can't let it be shelved because of language issues."
The assistant cautiously suggested, "Mr. Huo, should we contact the Translation Department of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs? They should have the most professional Arabic translators."
Huo Yanli frowned. He recalled considering involving the Ministry of Foreign Affairs during the last round of negotiations, but Song Zhiyi was in Geneva then. This time…
“Contact them immediately,” he decided. “Request emergency assistance in my name. Cost is not an issue, but they must arrive within an hour.”
The assistant rushed off.
The fifteen-minute break passed quickly. Back in the meeting room, Huo Yanli could sense the increased scrutiny in the other representative's eyes. In this industry, details determine success or failure, and translation problems reveal inadequate preparation and a lack of professionalism.
Negotiations continued with difficulty. They proceeded for another hour, stumbling over the crucial "dispute resolution mechanism" clause. In Arabic, "arbitration" and "mediation" are two completely different concepts, but the translations repeatedly confused them, leading to serious misunderstandings between the two sides.
Abdul finally lost his patience. He put down the documents in his hand and spoke a long speech in Arabic. The translator turned pale after hearing it.
"He said... he said he was worried about the foundation of this cooperation if we couldn't even guarantee basic language communication." The translator's voice trembled. "He said that respecting the other party's culture and language is a prerequisite for cooperation."
The conference room was deathly silent.
Huo Yanli gripped his pen tightly. This investment was crucial for the Huo family; it meant not only capital but also a passport to the inner circle of the Middle East. Failure due to translation issues would not only result in financial loss but also damage to their reputation.
Just then, there was a gentle knock on the conference room door.
The assistant opened the door and whispered to Huo Yanli, "Mr. Huo, the people from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs have arrived."
Huo Yanli nodded: "Please come in."
The door was fully open.
A figure walked in.
She wore a white shirt, a dark gray suit skirt, and her hair was neatly tied in a bun. She held a black leather folder in her hand. Her steps were steady, her back straight, and her gaze calmly swept over everyone in the conference room before finally settling on Huo Yanli's face.
Song Zhiyi.
For a moment, Huo Yanli thought he had misread it.
But yes, it was her.
She was wearing a business suit he had never seen before, and her expression was one of professionalism and composure he had never seen before. She didn't even glance at him, acting as if she didn't know him, and walked straight to the conference table.
"I apologize for keeping you all waiting." She said in fluent Arabic, her voice clear and steady, "I am Song Zhiyi from the Translation Department of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, and I have been assigned to assist with the translation work for this negotiation."
She said she was "assigned," not "invited." Her tone conveyed the formality and authority of an official background.
Abdul looked her over, a hint of surprise flashing in his eyes—he probably hadn't expected her to be such a young Chinese woman.
Song Zhiyi sat down opposite him, opened a folder containing neatly arranged notes and a glossary. She looked at Huo Yanli and asked in Chinese, "Mr. Huo, where are we?"
Her gaze was calm, as if she were looking at any client who needed translation services.
Huo Yanli suddenly felt a strong sense of unfamiliarity.
Is this woman, this woman in a business suit, speaking fluent Arabic, with a calm and professional expression, really Song Zhiyi, who lives in an old dormitory building, wears a cotton shirt, and knows acupuncture to treat stomach ailments?
Is she really the same Song Zhiyi who quietly ate at the Huo family banquet and remained unmoved even when mocked by her cousin?
His throat tightened slightly, but he quickly regained his composure and briefly explained the current stalemate in English.
Song Zhiyi nodded, turned to Abdul, and said in Arabic, "Mr. Sheikh Abdul, I understand the current situation. To ensure accurate communication going forward, I suggest we first reach a consensus on the definitions of a few key terms. Is that alright?"
Her Arabic was so standard that even Abdul sat up slightly.
“Okay,” he said.
Over the next ten minutes, Song Zhiyi professionally outlined all the key terms involved in the negotiations—financial, legal, and cultural. She not only translated but also explained the subtle differences between the Chinese and Arab legal systems.
During the conversation, she would occasionally glance at Huo Yanli and confirm in simple Chinese, "Mr. Huo, this clause refers to... right?"
Each time, her eyes remained calm and unwavering, as if they were truly just a translator and a client meeting for the first time.
Huo Yanli nodded mechanically, but his heart was filled with mixed emotions.
He watched Song Zhiyi's focused profile, watched her fingers rapidly taking notes, watched her calm and composed demeanor as she communicated with the other party's representative...
Suddenly, she felt as if he had never truly known her.
Or rather, the person he knew was "Mrs. Huo," Song Zhiyi.
Sitting at the negotiating table now is Song Zhiyi, a "senior translator from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs".
A completely unfamiliar yet inexplicably attractive presence to him.
“Alright,” Song Zhiyi put down her pen and looked at both of them, “We’ve reached a consensus on the terminology. May we continue?”
Her voice interrupted Huo Yanli's thoughts.
He nodded and resumed negotiations.
But throughout the entire process, he couldn't take his eyes off her.
She looked very professional.
Looking at her calm demeanor.
Looking at her... it seemed she didn't need him at all.
That sense of unfamiliarity, like a thin layer of ice, silently covered his heart.
Beneath the ice, something began to flow slowly.
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