Although she had suffered setbacks in both her career and love life, Ding Yawen was not someone easily discouraged or prone to wallowing in despair. She quickly adjusted her mindset—if Plan A failed, of course she needed a Plan B. The most important thing now was her journalism work. She couldn’t afford to lose her core responsibilities just because her transfer hadn’t gone through.
However, the information in the channel groups wasn’t worth following up on. In her younger days, she could have hustled around, chasing leads wherever they appeared, and always managed to dig something up. But now, she no longer needed to do that. Social news had to be valuable enough for her to pursue, and she had learned to discern what was worth her time.
As she sat in the office lost in thought, her WeChat chimed. It was a message from the CEO of a major company she had added while covering a story two years ago—Sheng Ze.
Sheng Ze: “Ms. Ding, would you have time to grab a cup of tea?”
Ding Yawen stared at the message, puzzled. They had been connected for about two years, but aside from the period when she was covering the story, they had hardly ever chatted privately.
Recalling the circumstances back then, Sheng Ze had called 110 for help after discovering a suicide note written by his son. At the time, the news hadn’t garnered much attention in the channel groups, as most children who wrote such notes were simply trying to get their parents’ attention.
But Ding Yawen sensed something unusual. Not only did she pursue the story, but she followed it through to the end. It was later revealed that an online game was deliberately luring minors to suicide. Because of this case, her entire department received commendations.
Among all the TV reporters covering the story, Ding Yawen was the only one who followed it from start to finish. To express his gratitude, Sheng Ze had sponsored a variety show on her network with several million yuan. While the sponsorship was more of a friendly gesture, it was still significant, especially since Ding Yawen was a journalist, not part of the business department.
What did Sheng Ze want from her now?
When she arrived at the agreed-upon teahouse, Sheng Ze was already seated inside.
Ding Yawen felt deeply apologetic. “Hello, Mr. Sheng. I’m so sorry—there was traffic, and I’m late.”
Sheng Ze was somewhat plump, with small but sharp eyes. He quickly sized up Ding Yawen and smiled. “You’re too polite, Ms. Ding. It’s not even the agreed-upon time yet. I just arrived early.”
After exchanging a few polite pleasantries, Sheng Ze continued, “Ms. Ding, you’re a straightforward person, so I won’t beat around the bush. I heard your program has a workplace interview segment featuring well-known business figures.”
Ding Yawen nodded. She was familiar with the segment, though in her opinion, it wasn’t particularly well-produced. She felt the host, Amy, relied too much on her appearance and lacked sharp insight. A significant reason for the low ratings was Amy’s overly rigid approach and weak control over the show’s dynamics.
“That’s handled by the program team. I can share their contact information with you.”
Sheng Ze waved his hand. “No, Ms. Ding, that’s not it. I’ve dealt with you before and trust your character. In state-owned enterprises like yours, straightforward people like you are rare these days.”
It had been a long time since Ding Yawen felt the warmth of a genuine compliment. She didn’t mention that she actually didn’t have a permanent position and was essentially a temporary employee.
Sheng Ze continued, “Our company hasn’t gone public because I just want to focus on doing solid work. To be honest, the reason I want to appear on this interview program is that I once saw my son looking at a poster of someone else’s father with admiration. I don’t need fame or success; I just hope my son can admire me wholeheartedly once.”
Ding Yawen had a general understanding of his situation. In his youth, he had been too focused on work and neglected his family. His wife harbored deep resentment and often belittled him in front of their son, leaving their father-son relationship very strained. After the divorce, his son believed it was entirely his father’s fault. It was only after the recent suicide incident that their relationship had slightly improved.
Ding Yawen nodded.
Sheng Ze added, “I looked into it beforehand. Getting on your station’s interview program isn’t easy, and I’m afraid I don’t quite qualify, haha. I didn’t bother reaching out to them directly, so I wanted to ask you if you could help me figure out a way.”
This wasn’t part of Ding Yawen’s job, but since he had come to her for help, she felt she shouldn’t refuse. Connections were often built this way.
She checked her phone and messaged an acquaintance from the program team to inquire about the interview.
[You know our program, Sister Ding. It’s not for just any business figure.]
Ding Ding: [That’s true, but I checked, and there were several episodes featuring people who weren’t well-known business figures. Although they had other specialties, it shows that rules are rigid, but people are flexible, right?]
[…Sister Ding, since we’re so close, I won’t beat around the bush. With money, everything is possible.]
This “money” didn’tt refer to under-the-table dealings but rather legitimate funds—sponsorship or advertising, preferably exclusive.
Ding Yawen looked at Sheng Ze. “Mr. Sheng, since you’ve been straightforward, I won’t beat around the bush either. To get on this interview program, how much budget can you allocate?”
Sheng Ze laughed heartily, his eyes appraising Ding Yawen. He had anticipated this question and had already done some research. It was precisely because he found it too costly that he had sought out this capable journalist.
“What amount do you think is appropriate, Miss Ding?”
Old fox.
Ding Yawen’s expression remained unchanged, still smiling, but her mind was calculating rapidly. “Mr. Sheng, those who appear on our interviews are either the hottest business figures of the moment, mostly from emerging industries. If you want to take a shortcut, it’s not impossible. In fact, the exclusive sponsorship rights for any program at our station are highly competitive. If you’re considering…”
Sheng Ze leaned back in his chair. “Xiao Ding, you know our industry—traditional, state-supported, not like those strange new industries that rely on exposure and advertising to survive. Let me put it this way: most of the money those industries make goes into advertising. I don’t like that. I prefer to focus on solid work. Wouldn’t it be better to spend that money on my family or employees?”
“Mr. Sheng is absolutely right,” Ding Yawen nodded. “I think there aren’t many private entrepreneurs like you who care so much about their employees. I’ve met quite a few people and seen plenty of scheming and backstabbing. Not many prioritize their employees’ well-being over money.”
Sheng Ze wore a faint smile, looking at her with an ambiguous expression but not responding.
Ding Yawen spread her hands: “Mr. Sheng seeking me out is a form of recognition. What’s more important probably isn’t the inability to come up with that portion of the money, right? Besides, compared to money, the child is what Mr. Sheng values most, isn’t it?”
Sheng Ze’s shoulders trembled slightly as he raised an eyebrow: “Money is just an external thing, but the sponsorship fees for your programs are truly too expensive. Miss Ding, as a top-tier journalist who has seen all aspects of life, you should also know—spending tens of millions just for an advertisement, is that really reasonable? I’ll be frank with you and lay my cards on the table: eight million, I can’t do more than that.”