By 11 a.m., the hashtag #CaoJiIsSinister had climbed into the top ten of the trending topics.
【I’ve seen shameless people, but never this shameless.】
【Jealousy is a disease—go get it treated!】
【This already constitutes unfair competition under the Commercial Law, doesn’t it? Jiang Ji should totally sue!】
【I used to like eating at Cao Ji. Never tried Jiang Ji, but I’m with them on this.】
【Longtime Cao Ji fan here. Loved their vibe and dedication to tradition, but I can’t believe such a respected brand would stoop so low. That’s it for me—fan turned hater. Goodbye.】
【I was in line at Jiang Ji that day, had no clue there was another new restaurant opening right next door. It was practically empty! And they think they can throw shade? Please.】
【Right now I just want to send a big ol’ “HAHAHAHAHA” to Cao Ji.】
【Look, we get that new stores often spend a little on PR fluff to hype their opening. Fair enough. But trying to boost yourself by trashing the competition? That’s dirty.】
【Being shady is one thing, but getting caught being shady? Oof.】
The internet was ablaze with mockery. Cao Ji’s PR department existed in name only—despite having a team of over ten people, no one could put together a proper crisis response!
Yu Shangmei was so furious she smashed her phone.
A bunch of useless trash!
The company pours money into this department, and when it finally matters—they’re all dead weight!
Chairman Wu sneered. “And now you’re panicking? Too late for that. What’s done is done—the disgrace is already out there. Doesn’t matter if it’s a little or a lot.”
Yu Shangmei took a deep breath. “Chairman Wu, is now really the time to kick me while I’m down?”
“Oh?” His face suddenly darkened. “Then let’s cut the sarcasm and get real.”
Yu Shangmei blinked. “…?”
“Let me remind you—who was it that insisted on opening a branch in Linhuai without the market department’s feasibility study? And who pushed to assign Liu Shanhua as the branch manager? He’s a high-level decision-maker—why throw him into a ground-level role? And now? A massive mess. Care to explain how you plan to clean this up, President Yu?”
Her gaze flickered, brows tightening.
“If I recall,” Wu continued, “the board overwhelmingly opposed the new branch. Even the site selection got pushback. But you overrode us twice, swore you’d take full responsibility if anything went wrong.”
He leaned in, pressing harder: “So now that it’s really gone wrong—how will you own up?”
Yu Shangmei’s eyelid twitched. The next moment, she forced a strained smile. “Chairman Wu, don’t you think it’s a bit early to judge? Jumping the gun, aren’t we?”
Chairman Wu’s eyes narrowed. “I’m here on behalf of the board.”
“They’ll at least give me time to fix this, won’t they?”
He scoffed. “Still trying to struggle to the bitter end, huh? But fine—you’re right. Even criminals get a trial. You have three days. That’s the board’s limit. If you can’t quell this firestorm and restore Cao Ji’s reputation by then…”
He paused—then suddenly grinned. “Maybe someone else should take your seat.”
Yu Shangmei’s expression drastically changed.
Chairman Wu turned and walked out, leaving behind only a cold, unyielding silhouette.
Her knees gave out, and she collapsed into her leather chair. Her palms were icy, and her back was soaked in sweat.
Suddenly, she whipped out her phone and dialed a number.
The moment the call connected, she exploded: “Liu Shanhua! What the h*ll were you thinking?!”
