raknovel Chapter 3 The Slap That Was One Day Late
Chapter 3 The Slap That Was One Day Late
It's no coincidence that things happen at once; bad luck always seems to come in one go.
No sooner had Dapeng left than Alex called Ren Pingsheng into his office.
The slats of the blinds were pressed down, so people outside couldn't see inside, but the signal was strong enough.
Sister Zhao's typing was noticeably slow, so Xiao Lin simply took off one of her earphones.
Everyone was paying attention to what was happening in the office, whether intentionally or unintentionally.
In the office, Alex sat in a chair, his computer screen facing Ren Pingsheng.
On the cool playback page, the video title is prominently displayed.
"The biggest scam of the century."
Alex read those five words aloud, "Is this account called 'Life Story' yours?"
Ren Pingsheng did not deny it; he had no intention of hiding it at all, otherwise he would not have chosen such an ID.
"You filmed the rejected proposal and uploaded it online?"
"Not exactly the same; the video has more elements than the project proposal."
Alex slammed his hand on the table.
Don't try to nitpick with me!
"I'm not nitpicking," Ren Pingsheng said, "the facts are just different."
Alex stared at him for two seconds, then his lips twitched down slightly.
"Ren Pingsheng, do you know why I called you in?"
"have no idea."
"Because I'm still giving you a chance."
Alex tapped the screen with his finger.
"Delete this video right now in front of me, and then go back and write a self-criticism. I can suppress this matter and not report it to higher authorities."
Ren Pingsheng stood still, without moving.
"I made the video during my off-get off work hours."
He spoke slowly, but each word was spoken with great precision.
"The material comes from public sources, and does not use any copyrighted content from Sohu, nor does it mention the name of Sohu."
"Are you teaching me what copyright is?" Alex's voice rose a notch.
"I'm telling you, this video has nothing to do with Sohu."
These words were spoken with complete confidence.
Alex stood up from his chair and walked around the desk.
His 1.88-meter height cast a shadow that completely obscured Ren Pingsheng.
"It's alright?"
His voice lowered, which was even more intimidating than when he shouted.
"As an employee of Sohu, you made a video attacking a world-class artist and uploaded it to a competitor's platform."
"You're telling me it's okay now?"
"I'll ask you one last time, what are you planning to do?"
"I won't delete this video."
The office was silent for two seconds.
A figure flashed past the blinds, deliberately walking lightly, but didn't go far.
"Say it again?"
"This video is my personal work, posted on my private account, and has nothing to do with Sohu. You have no right to ask me to delete it."
Ren Pingsheng's voice neither rose nor fell.
"If you believe I have violated the relevant terms of the employment contract, you can go through the formal process to dismiss me."
"The compensation is clearly stated in the contract."
"you--"
"If you feel I've damaged the company's reputation, have your legal team send a lawyer's letter, and I'll take it."
Alex took a half step back, leaned against the edge of the table, and crossed his arms.
"You seem to know a lot about the law."
Ren Pingsheng did not respond.
During his years working in the entertainment industry in his previous life, he knew the boundaries between contract law and labor law better than he knew his lines.
The first lesson for poor people entering sociology is not how to make money, but how not to be legally ripped off.
Alex stared at him for a few seconds, then suddenly smiled.
"Alright, Ren Pingsheng, since you're so opinionated, I'll make myself clear."
"I don't care what you do after get off work, that's your freedom."
"But you should know how big this circle is."
"If your personal behavior negatively impacts the company or disrupts the work of the entertainment division, it will be detrimental to your business."
"I'll let you go, and then no one in this industry will take your resume anymore."
"Did you hear me?"
"I heard you clearly."
Ren Pingsheng turned around and placed his hand on the doorknob.
"There's one more thing," Alex's voice came from behind, "You know in your heart who got you into this company."
"Don't end up dragging down those who helped you."
This sentence is a way of telling him a lesson, using the roc as a metaphor.
Normally, Ren Pingsheng's resume wouldn't even pass Sohu's initial screening.
I graduated from a third-tier university with a major that doesn't match my job, I have no overseas study experience, and I lack industry connections.
But he caught an opportunity.
He volunteered at the Olympics last year and was responsible for miscellaneous tasks at the media center. Sohu was the contractor for the official website.
During that period, he worked fifteen or sixteen hours a day. He took on all the jobs that others turned down because they thought they were too troublesome, and he did the legwork that others were unwilling to do.
It's not because they have high awareness; it's simply that poor people want to grab onto any rope they can get their hands on.
And the other end of this rope is Dapeng.
Da Peng thought this kid was hardworking, so he passed on a message for him, and Ren Pingsheng squeezed into Souhu through the back door.
Debts of gratitude are the hardest to repay.
If Ren Pingsheng in his previous life had heard these words, he would have backed down.
But this life is different.
Anyone who has bent over once knows how painful it is, and those who have experienced the pain will never bend over a second time.
"Thanks for the reminder, Alex."
He opened the door and went out.
Ren Pingsheng knew that Deng Ye was behind Alex, and he also knew about Deng Ye's power structure in Sohu.
But he also knew that this map wouldn't last long.
The moment the door opened, he almost bumped into someone.
A middle-aged man in his early forties, wearing glasses, stood in the corridor with his hair neatly combed back.
Ren Pingsheng paused for a moment.
He knew this person.
Or rather, it's impossible for anyone in the industry in later generations not to recognize him.
Gong Yu, COO of Sohu.
In another year, he will leave Sohu to create iQiyi.
Their eyes met.
Gong Yu's gaze swept across Ren Pingsheng's face and stopped on the employee badge.
"Hello, Mr. Gong."
Ren Pingsheng stepped aside to make way and nodded politely.
Gong Yu didn't say anything, just nodded, brushed past him, and walked into the office.
The door closed, and the slats of the blinds swayed twice.
Ren Pingsheng didn't turn around, but he heard it.
It's unclear whether this was meant for Gong Yu or for everyone else.
"Some hothead wrote a conspiracy theory and threw it online."
"Less than six thousand views."
"Who does he think he is? Without a company endorsing his content, who's going to watch it?"
Alex is right.
Even in 2009, six thousand views wasn't much.
But Alex overlooked one thing.
Ren Pingsheng needs no endorsement.
All he needs is time.
And time is ticking away, second by second.
Three months later.
Beijing time, June 26, 2009, morning.
Ren Pingsheng arrived fifteen minutes earlier than usual.
He made himself a cup of instant coffee in the break room, leaned against the window, and sipped it slowly.
Not urgent.
He was waiting for a news report.
More precisely, he was waiting for the people on this floor to see the news with their own eyes.
8:37.
A dull thud came from the next office area, where a chair hit a partition.
Then came Kobayashi's voice, "Holy crap!"
Ren Pingsheng held the cup, but didn't move.
Sister Zhao's voice drifted over: "What's wrong?"
"MJ suffered cardiac arrest and has been taken to the hospital."
There was a two-second silence.
Old Zhou's voice rang out: "Where did this news come from?"
"CNN, just released it."
The sound of chairs rolling, footsteps, and then more chairs.
Ren Pingsheng finished the last sip of coffee, crushed the paper cup and threw it into the trash can, then slowly walked back to the office area.
As he turned the corner, he saw the backs of the entire group.
Sister Zhao, Lao Zhou, and others were all gathered around Xiao Lin's computer.
On the screen, a red Breaking News banner stretched across the top of the image.
【Michael Jackson rushed to hospital after cardiac arrest at Los Angeles home】
Alex pushed open the office door, phone in hand, and walked twice as fast as usual.
Has the news been confirmed?
"CNN and TMZ both reported it," Lao Zhou straightened up, "UCLA Medical Center, they're still trying to save him."
Alex stared at the screen, his thumb repeatedly rubbing the side of the phone.
Then he turned his head and his gaze fell on Ren Pingsheng, who had just returned.
The air in the office area seemed to stagnate.
Sister Zhao was the first to react. She turned her head following Alex's gaze and saw Ren Pingsheng standing next to his workstation.
Then came Xiaolin, Lao Zhou... one after another.
Seven or eight pairs of eyes were fixed on him.
Ren Pingsheng pulled out a chair and sat down.
His actions were no different from usual, just like an ordinary morning.
He didn't speak.
But everyone felt that the plan proposed three months ago was like a slap in the face that was a hundred days late.