ebonymovies Chapter 1643 Meeting the Parents
Chapter 1643 Meeting the Parents
In 2001, the Shanghai Stock Exchange had not yet moved into the iconic new building that would later appear in Lujiazui. The trading hall was crowded with people, and the air was filled with the smells of tobacco, sweat, and the distinctive ink of banknotes.
A row of old-fashioned electronic screens hung on the wall, their red digital tubes flashing. Traders in red vests moved between the counters with their orders in hand, while retail investors craned their necks to look at the screens. Some were shouting orders from their mobile phones, while others squatted in a corner eating steamed buns with hot water.
Qin Hao weaved through the crowd and walked smoothly toward the VIP room.
He took out his shareholder account card and handed it to the security guard at the door. After verifying his identity, the guard nodded and gestured for him to go in.
Qin Hao entered the VIP room and found a seat by the window. It was much quieter and less crowded than outside.
Several middle-aged men in suits sat in front of several computer terminals, each staring at the screen, occasionally picking up the phone on the table and whispering a few words.
Qin Hao opened the trading terminal, entered his account password, and a list of his selected stocks appeared on the screen.
On February 19, 2001, after the market closed, the China Securities Regulatory Commission (CSRC) suddenly announced that the B-share market would be opened to domestic residents. The news sent shockwaves through the entire capital market. Previously, B-shares were only open to overseas investors, with extremely high barriers to entry and sluggish trading volume. The announcement of the opening sent the B-share market into a frenzy. On February 23, the day trading resumed, all B-shares hit their daily limit, and continued to rise for several days afterward. From February to May, the Shanghai B-share index soared from 80 points to 240 points, a gain of 200%.
Ordinary people only realized the policy was in effect after it was announced and rushed in. But Qin Hao had already opened a B-share account with his spare cash in January, and by the time the policy was officially implemented, he had already secured a significant stake.
In the following three months, the funds in his account nearly tripled.
In early June, while everyone was frantically speculating on B-shares, Qin Hao quietly liquidated all his positions because the state-owned share reduction plan was about to be released. On June 12, the State Council officially released the "Interim Measures for the Management of Funds Raised from the Reduction of State-owned Shares for Social Security," causing widespread panic in the market. Two days later, on June 14, the Shanghai Composite Index hit a record high of 2245 points before turning downwards, beginning a four-month-long plunge.
From 2245 points to 1514 points, the drop exceeded 30%.
The market was in turmoil, with countless retail investors losing everything. Some spent the entire night on the rooftop in the wind, while others wailed in the trading hall.
By the end of September, the market had plummeted to 1514 points, and market sentiment had reached rock bottom. Newspapers outside brokerage offices displayed analysts predicting, in various pessimistic terms, that "the bottom is still far away." Retail investors were either already trapped and playing dead, or they cut their losses and vowed never to touch stocks again.
Qin Hao, however, went against the tide and fought his way back.
The stocks bought were all oversold blue-chip stocks that had been unfairly punished – including Shanghai local real estate stocks, leading power companies, and a manufacturing company that was planning an asset restructuring.
At 10 p.m. on October 22, the China Securities Regulatory Commission (CSRC) announced a suspension of the reduction of state-owned shares.
The following day, the Shanghai Composite Index opened 9.86% higher, with almost all stocks hitting their daily limit up. Qin Hao's holdings all opened at their daily limit up, resulting in a single-day profit exceeding one million.
However, Qin Hao didn't tell anyone about these things. Huang Yimei didn't know, and his father, Qin Mo, knew even less. In Qin Mo's eyes, Qin Hao was still that good-for-nothing, idle rich kid.
This is good.
Qin Hao snapped out of his thoughts and looked at the time in the lower right corner of the screen. It was 10:15 a.m., and there were still nearly three hours until the market closed.
What he needs to do today is to lay the groundwork for the next big trend.
In November 2001, only one month remained before China officially joined the WTO. December 11th was etched clearly in his mind. After joining the WTO, industries such as textiles, ports, and foreign trade would experience explosive growth, and the stock prices of related companies would see a sharp rise before and after the official announcement.
What he needs to do now is to complete the position building before the major funds enter the market in large quantities.
Qin Hao brought up the trading interface and entered the code of a port stock. This company is located in the Yangtze River Delta and is one of the largest ports in China. The prosperity of import and export trade is the most direct benefit to it.
Now is the best time to enter the market.
Establish a position of 30,000 shares.
Three minutes later, the transaction confirmation popped up, and all transactions were completed.
Qin Hao didn't rush to increase his position. Instead, he leaned back in his chair and waited for the price to continue to fall before making a move.
-
Meanwhile, on the other side of the city.
In the exhibition hall of the Shanghai Museum of Contemporary Art, Huang Yimei stood in front of a huge oil painting, staring at it motionless for a full five minutes.
Su Gengsheng stood a few steps behind her, arms crossed, waiting patiently. She didn't urge him or interrupt. She knew what a true curator was like when faced with a good work—it wasn't a cursory glance, but an immersive dialogue.
Huang Yimei finally moved. She took two steps back, tilted her head, then took another step forward, squatted down, and looked up at the painting from a lower angle.
A few seconds later, she stood up, took out her notebook, and began to draw something on it.
Su Gengsheng walked over, glanced at her notebook, and his pupils contracted slightly.
Huang Yimei drew a floor plan of the exhibition area. But this plan is not simply marked "a certain work is in a certain location". Instead, it is detailed to the size of each wall, the distance between each exhibit, the angle and color temperature of each spotlight, and even has a few lines of small print on the side of the plan - "The two works here have conflicting styles and should not be placed next to each other" and "The color temperature of the light is too cool, which makes the warm-toned picture dark. It is recommended to change to 3200K warm light".
Looking at the picture, Su Gengsheng suddenly felt a surge of indescribable emotions.
She recalled her first time independently creating a curatorial plan. What level was she at? It was already her third year of work. The circulation diagram she created after three sleepless nights was criticized as worthless by the director at the time.
The young woman in front of me, who had just graduated and had only been working for a few months, was already doing a remarkable job as a curator on her first visit to an exhibition.
"As expected of a student from the Academy of Arts & Design, Tsinghua University, your painting is quite good," Su Gengsheng asked.
Huang Yimei raised her head and smiled confidently: "Not bad. You studied art, so you're quite sensitive to things like lighting and composition."
Su Gengsheng fell silent. Perhaps, some people are just born to do this kind of work.
“When we get back,” Su Gengsheng said, “organize your notes from the past few days, and I’ll prepare a complete curatorial report for Director Jiang to review.”
Huang Yimei's eyes lit up.
-
Three days later, at Dragonfly Culture Company, in the general manager's office.
Jiang Xueqiong carefully reviewed Huang Yimei's curatorial notes, page by page. The office was quiet, save for the rustling of pages. Huang Yimei sat in the chair opposite the desk, her hands on her knees, her heart pounding.
Jiang Xueqiong turned to the last page, closed the notebook, and looked up at Huang Yimei.
"Did you write this notebook?"
"Mm." Huang Yimei nodded.
Jiang Xueqiong stared at her for a few seconds, then leaned back in her chair, picked up the coffee on the table, and took a sip.
"After Su Gengsheng came back, she kept praising you. I've known her for so many years, and this is the first time I've ever seen her like this. Okay, I'll give you a chance."
Huang Yimei was overjoyed.
"The company has taken on a charity project," Jiang Xueqiong said, putting down her coffee cup, "to organize an art exhibition for children with autism. These children express their emotions through painting, and their works are very moving. The company hopes that through this exhibition, more people will understand and pay attention to the autistic community."
She paused, her gaze settling on Huang Yimei's face: "This project is entrusted to you. From planning to execution, you will lead the entire process."
Huang Yimei was stunned: "Isn't President Jiang afraid that I'll mess this up?"
Jiang Xueqiong smiled and said, "Everyone starts from scratch. If you don't think you can do it, tell me now, and I'll find someone else."
"I guarantee the mission will be completed."
Seeing the sudden light in Huang Yimei's eyes, Jiang Xueqiong's lips curled into a slight smile: "Alright, let's get started."
After leaving her office, Huang Yimei immediately immersed herself in the files on children with autism.
The next day, she made a special trip to an autism rehabilitation center and chatted with the person in charge of the institution for an entire afternoon. Then she obtained a list of families with autistic children and began visiting them one by one.
The first family was a 7-year-old boy.
The boy couldn't speak. Since being diagnosed at age three, the most he'd ever uttered was two indistinct syllables—"Mama." But his drawings stunned Huang Yimei. A whole stack of drawing paper, all blue circles—densely packed, layer upon layer, large ones nested inside smaller ones, small ones crowding large ones, like ocean waves, or whirlpools.
“He drew the sea,” the boy’s mother said calmly, but her eyes were red. “He’s never seen the sea, but he always says he dreams about it. I told him that when Mom saves enough money, I’ll take him to see the sea.”
Huang Yimei flipped through the stack of drawing papers, her fingertips lightly gliding over the blue circles.
The second family was a 10-year-old girl.
The girl drew a picture titled "Mom's Hair." The woman in the picture had no face, only a cascade of long, black hair that covered the entire sheet of paper. The girl's grandmother sat beside her, picking vegetables and telling Huang Yimei that the child's mother couldn't bear the pressure and had run away, and hadn't returned for two years. When the girl missed her mother, she would sit at her desk and draw her hair.
“Her mother used to have very long hair,” the grandmother said. “That’s all the child remembers.”
When Huang Yimei left, the girl stood at the door and waved to her without saying a word, but there was something in her eyes that made one's heart ache.
The third family is a 5-year-old boy.
After the child was diagnosed, both parents quit their jobs and came to Beijing from their hometown in Henan for rehabilitation training. The family of three rented a small, partitioned room of only ten square meters. The moment they opened the door, a damp, musty smell hit them. The room contained only a bed, a table, and a small wardrobe, with a desk lamp as the only source of light.
The boy drew a picture for Huang Yimei to see—on the paper, there was a crooked yellow sun, and under the sun stood three little people holding hands, thin, with hands and feet like matchsticks, but each of them had a big mouth grinning and laughing.
"Who is this?" Huang Yimei squatted down in front of the boy and pointed to the little figure in the painting.
"Dad, Mom, me," the boy said, enunciating each word clearly, though his pronunciation wasn't perfect.
When Huang Yimei came out of that cubicle, the sunlight outside made her squint.
At that moment, Huang Yimei said to herself: This exhibition must be a success. Not for President Jiang, not for the company, and not even to prove her abilities, but simply for these children.
Back at the company, Huang Yimei began working on the curatorial plan. She spent three days visiting four venues to inquire about prices, and the answers were largely the same—a proper exhibition hall would cost at least 10,000 yuan per day, not including utilities and security. She calculated the costs based on the lowest possible estimate: 24,000 yuan for a three-day exhibition hall rental, 5,000 yuan for framed artwork, 3,000 yuan for opening ceremony refreshments, 2,000 yuan for promotional materials, and 1,000 yuan for miscellaneous expenses. The total came to 35,000 yuan.
Jiang Xueqiong's budget for her was only 20,000.
"The company doesn't make money from public welfare projects." These are Jiang Xueqiong's exact words.
Huang Yimei slumped over her desk, burying her face in her arms. Twenty thousand yuan couldn't even rent a decent venue in Beijing. She could plead poverty and ask Jiang Xueqiong for more money, but she knew the company was already losing money on this project to gain publicity, and adding more budget was simply unreasonable.
But without money, how can we hold an exhibition?
Just as Huang Yimei was at her wit's end, her phone vibrated on the table.
"Hello?"
On the other end of the phone, Qin Hao's voice carried a light, cheerful tone: "Still not off work? I'll pick you up for a late-night snack."
Huang Yimei hesitated for a moment, but still told the truth: "I'm not hungry. I don't have much of an appetite today."
There was a few seconds of silence on the other end. Qin Hao knew her well; he could tell something was wrong from her tone.
"What's wrong?"
Huang Yimei bit her lip, but finally recounted the whole story.
Qin Hao was silent for a few seconds, then said, "I have an idea."
"What idea?"
"My dad has a vacant villa in the western suburbs, which is over 500 square meters including the basement. It was originally intended for my wedding, but it hasn't been renovated yet. We'll just hire a construction team to temporarily install the plumbing and electrical systems; it won't cost much."
Huang Yimei was stunned: "You mean...?"
Qin Hao said casually, "It's just sitting empty anyway. The decor, lighting, and environment are no worse than a commercial showroom. If you think it's alright, I'll have the plumbing and electricity installed right away."
Huang Yimei held her phone, remaining silent for a long time.
Her first thought was to refuse. She never wanted to owe anyone favors, much less use Qin Hao's connections to get this done. She and Qin Hao had been together for so long, and she had never asked for anything in return; she didn't want people to think she was only with him for his money.
but……
She remembered the boy who drew blue circles, the little girl who drew her mother's hair, the crooked yellow sun, and the three little people holding hands.
Her fingers lightly stroked the phone screen twice.
"Qin Hao, this isn't appropriate...that's your father's house."
"It's just sitting empty anyway, and helping you organize an art exhibition will do you a good deed. Besides, this isn't a commercial event; it's a charity exhibition, meant to do good. The old man won't say anything if he finds out. Don't rush to refuse; think it over carefully and give me your answer tomorrow."
After hanging up the phone, Huang Yimei sat in her office for a long time.
She took one last look at the budget sheet spread out on the table.
Finally, she picked up her phone and sent Qin Hao a message: "If it's convenient, could you ask my uncle for me?"
Soon, Qin Hao called: "My dad said you need to take the proposal to his office."
Huang Yimei held the phone, her heart skipped a beat.
Is this the time to meet the parents?
She certainly wasn't naive enough to think Qin Mo just wanted to see the proposal. Lending out an unused villa for a charity art exhibition was such a small matter; Qin Mo, a multi-billionaire entrepreneur, wouldn't need to personally intervene. He must have another purpose in wanting to see her.
Qin Hao seemed to read her mind, adopting a nonchalant tone: "Don't be nervous, he just wants to see you. He also wants to see how your proposal is coming along. Just do what you're supposed to do, don't be afraid. If he dares to make things difficult for you, I'll make sure he pays the price."
Huang Yimei took a deep breath: "Okay, I understand."
At 2 p.m. the next day, Huang Yimei appeared downstairs at the Qin Group headquarters, dressed in a well-fitting business suit.
She stood before the entrance of that Grade A office building, glancing up at it—the deep blue glass curtain wall reflected a cold light in the sunlight, the building soaring into the clouds, giving off an invisible sense of oppression. The lobby had a high ceiling of over ten meters, the marble floor gleaming like a mirror, and behind the reception desk, four large characters were cast in brass on the wall: Qin's Group.
Huang Yimei straightened her collar and followed Qin Hao to the front desk, where the receptionist immediately and respectfully guided them to the elevator.
The elevator went up and stopped at the top floor.
The moment the elevator doors opened, a calm and composed aura emanated from the room. The floor where the chairman's office was located was as quiet as another world. The corridor was carpeted in dark gray, and several ink paintings hung on the walls, their elegant colors contrasting sharply with the hustle and bustle downstairs.
The secretary was already waiting at the end of the corridor. Smiling, she led the two to the office door and gently knocked.
"Come in."
A steady voice came from inside.
The secretary pushed open the door and stepped aside, saying, "Please come in."
Huang Yimei took a deep breath and followed Qin Hao inside.
The office was much larger than she had imagined. A large mahogany desk sat in the center of the room, behind which was a whole wall of bookshelves. The bookshelves didn't have many books—they were mostly file folders and folders, neatly stacked.
A calligraphy scroll hangs on the wall, bearing four large characters: "Heaven rewards diligence." The characters are vigorous and powerful, with strokes as sharp as a knife.
Qin Mo sat behind his desk, wearing a dark gray custom-made suit, his hair neatly combed.
"Please sit on the sofa for a while. I'd like to have a chat with Ms. Huang."
Qin Hao patted Huang Yimei on the shoulder, signaling her to relax.
Huang Yimei nodded, walked to the desk, took the proposal out of her bag, and handed it to him with both hands: "Uncle Qin, this is my proposal. Please take a look."
Qin Mo took the proposal, but instead of opening it right away, he placed it on the table and glanced at her.
"How's work lately? Have you settled in?"
"It's great." Huang Yimei nodded. "My boss takes good care of me, and my supervisor has taught me a lot."
"That would be such a shame. I was thinking that if you weren't doing well out there, you could come work for me."
Qin Mo said half-jokingly, then picked up the proposal and turned to the first page.
The office fell silent, save for the sound of papers turning.
Huang Yimei sat in the chair, her hands clasped together on her knees, feeling inexplicably nervous.
Halfway through the book, Qin Mo suddenly spoke up: "Why did you decide to hold an art exhibition for children with autism?"
Huang Yimei paused for a moment, then said, "Because those children's paintings deserve to be seen."
She then told the stories of the three families.
Qin Mo's fingers, which were turning the page, paused for a moment.
"How much is the budget shortfall?"
"Regarding the venue, if a suitable venue can be found, according to my plan, 20,000 yuan should be sufficient," Huang Yimei replied, her voice much steadyer than when she first entered. "I can reduce other expenses..."
Qin Mo didn't comment on those words, but continued, "How do you plan to publicize this? Have you contacted the media?"
“I haven’t contacted major media outlets yet because the costs are too high. I plan to first contact several local Beijing-based non-profit organizations that focus on autism and reach the target audience precisely through their channels,” Huang Yimei said, pulling out a sheet of paper from the back of the proposal: “This is my list of partner organizations, six in total, all of which are properly registered non-profit organizations.”
Qin Mo took the paper and read it over.
"What happens to these children's paintings after the exhibition ends?"
Huang Yimei took a deep breath and spoke the idea she had been thinking about for a long time: "I plan to... auction off a portion of my paintings for charity."
Qin Mo's gaze sharpened slightly.
"The proceeds from the auction will be used to establish an art therapy fund for children with autism," Huang Yimei said, her speech quickening slightly. "This way, this exhibition won't be a one-off event. We can continue to do it."
As Qin Mo looked at Huang Yimei, the scrutinizing look in his eyes gradually faded, replaced by appreciation.
“Okay,” he said.
Huang Yimei was stunned.
"You can borrow the villa. I'll cover the cost of installing the water and electricity. In addition, on behalf of the Qin Group, I'll sponsor this art exhibition with 30,000 yuan. However, I have conditions: our advertisements must be displayed in prominent places at the exhibition."
Huang Yimei nodded vigorously, unable to suppress her smile: "No problem, thank you Uncle Qin!"
In the office, Qin Hao slowly stood up from the sofa, stretched, and was about to go out with Huang Yimei.
"Stop right there."
Qin Mo's voice came from behind.
Qin Hao turned around, a grin on his face, and asked, "What? Does the chairman have any further instructions?"
Qin Mo leaned back in his chair, clasped his hands on the table, and looked at him.
"This girl is not bad."
Qin Hao raised an eyebrow: "Of course, I chose it."
Qin Mo snorted coldly: "With your ignorant and incompetent appearance, it's a miracle that someone even considered you. Treat her well and hurry up and get your marriage certificate."
"I'd like to, but we'd need their permission first," Qin Hao shrugged.
Huang Yimei blushed and glared fiercely at Qin Hao. (End of Chapter)