Chapter 0844: Never Forget the Original Intention

Before Zhao Fusheng could even address the issue of the fair-weather sisters, Fan Baobao had already been punished by the messenger of justice.

The messenger of justice was none other than Fan Baobao's mother, Ms. Li Yuan.

The reason was simple: after Li Yuan finished making dumplings and came out, she casually asked her younger daughter about the whereabouts of the red envelopes, since, as per usual, the money was supposed to be kept by her.

But unfortunately, this time, Fan Baobao had beaten her to it.

Ms. Li Yuan declared that anyone who snatched business from her was always an enemy.

As for her daughter, well, she'd deal with her first.

"She bullied me!"

Sitting in front of the TV, Fan Baobao said to Zhao Fusheng with a look of grievance.

Zhao Fusheng looked utterly innocent. Though he wanted to tease his girlfriend, remembering that she had just been slapped several times by Li Yuan, he could only comfort her: "It's okay, it's okay. They're just two red envelopes. I'll make it up to you later, alright?"

"Really?" Fan Baobao looked up, her face full of anticipation.

Zhao Fusheng nodded: "Of course it's true."

"Hmm, that's not bad." Fan Baobao immediately beamed with joy, then a cold glint flashed in her eyes: "Hmph, that little brat Fan Beibei, so young and already framing me. Just wait till I get back at her!"

With that, she stood up and actually ran off to the next room.

Clearly, she was going to cause trouble for her little sister.

"Where's Baobao?" Zhao's father came out after finishing a phone call and asked Zhao Fusheng curiously: "Did you two have a fight?"

He hadn't known about Li Yuan disciplining Fan Baobao just now, so he had naturally missed the chaotic scene.

Zhao Fusheng shook his head like a rattle-drum: "She went to play with Beibei."

"Oh, that's good. I need to talk to you about something." Zhao's father paused, then smiled and said to Zhao Fusheng.

Zhao Fusheng smiled back: "Okay."

Father and son sat down on the sofa. Li Yuan and Zhao's mother were cooking in the next kitchen, while Fan Baobao and Fan Beibei were presumably playing in the next room. The house was quite quiet.

This atmosphere reminded Zhao Fusheng of his previous life. Back then, the Fan family had already disappeared, and his own family had struggled because of Uncle Jiang He. His mother and father would sometimes argue, and most of the time, his mother would sit there, twisting the chair, telling his father how much better it would have been if they hadn't trusted Jiang He.

Some things, accumulated day by day, slowly become habits, and habits are always monsters that people cannot forget for a long time.

Back then, knowing he was in the wrong, his father could only smoke in silence, one cigarette after another, the glowing embers flickering on and off, like his heart, sinking and floating in torment.

Zhao Fusheng remembered clearly that his mother had once said: "People, one day, will become picky."

During that time, even when she went to the market to buy groceries, she would save every penny.

Fortunately, he had changed his fate.

At that moment, Zhao Fusheng felt that this was probably the sense of achievement in life.

"Fusheng, do you think I'm moving too fast now?" Zhao's father asked his son.

To be honest, Zhao's father hadn't wanted to ask Zhao Fusheng this question. A father always has a sense of superiority when facing his son, after all, no matter what, this is his own offspring. This concept is deeply rooted in the minds of those born before the 1960s and 1970s, so in the memories of the post-80s generation, being double-teamed by parents was probably a normal thing.

By the post-90s generation, since each family had only one child, they were naturally cherished like treasures, so being disciplined like that was less common.

For Zhao's father, Zhao Fusheng was undoubtedly his pride. After all, not every family's child could be like his son—still in university, not yet graduated, yet already a gold-medal advertising planner. Although he didn't understand the industry well, Zhao's father knew that several ads on TV now were ideas his son had come up with.

In the words of his old comrade-in-arms, his son was a capable man who earned money with his brains.

Coupled with Zhao Fusheng's previous series of performances, Zhao's father had unconsciously begun to treat Zhao Fusheng as an equal conversational partner.

Hearing his father's question, Zhao Fusheng was taken aback, then smiled: "Dad, what are you saying? Isn't it good to have a big business? Don't tell me you plan to be a worker all your life, laid off and poor?"

Zhao's father shook his head: "Your dad's not stupid. Who wants to be poor?"

"Exactly." Zhao Fusheng laughed: "Since that's the case, why overthink it? Business is like sailing against the current: you either forge ahead or fall behind. You either keep getting better or keep regressing."

Seeing that his father was still uncertain, Zhao Fusheng decided to be more straightforward: "Right now, you're like those self-employed individuals in the early '90s, crossing the river by feeling the stones. It's normal to step high and low. Maybe this investment or development succeeds and makes a lot of money. Maybe the next one fails and you lose. But no matter what, Dad, do you think we have anything more terrifying than poverty?"

"You little rascal, where did you learn all this?" Zhao's father laughed and glared at Zhao Fusheng: "I think you could do pyramid schemes instead of advertising."

These days, pyramid schemes had been clearly defined as illegal by the state, but everyone had a fixed impression that people who did pyramid schemes must have very good eloquence.

To borrow a phrase from the Northeast dialect, they were good at "selling."

Touching his nose, Zhao Fusheng blinked innocently and said: "You asked me, I'm just sticking to the facts."

He paused and continued: "Actually, I can understand you. At our company, General Zheng hesitated for a year before moving the headquarters from our province to Beijing, for reasons similar to yours—worried that moving too fast would destabilize the foundation."

If Zhao's father thought carefully, he would find a problem here, because Future Advertising was founded around the same time his son urged him to start his own business. It would be strange if there wasn't something fishy. But the problem was, in Zhao's father's eyes, Zhao Fusheng was already extraordinary enough, so he didn't think much about it and didn't connect Future Advertising with his son.

But hearing Zhao Fusheng's words, Zhao's father still looked thoughtful.

Seeing his father lost in thought, Zhao Fusheng said nothing more.

At this moment, letting him think on his own was the right choice, after all, his father was no longer a clueless worker but the boss in charge of a company.

No one is born a leader; it's the times that create heroes.

In the early years of this century, it was probably the last chance for grassroots heroes. In a few more years, starting from scratch would no longer be so easy.

And now, his father's thinking was quite good. He hadn't lost his original intention because of sudden wealth; instead, he was worried about developing too hastily and having an unstable foundation.

Zhao Fusheng remembered clearly that once, when he went to see Tan Kaixuan, the guy was sad because his two pet fish had died. At the time, Zhao Fusheng casually suggested cremating the fish and scattering their ashes into the sea, letting them return to their mother's embrace.

They say the rich think differently from ordinary people. That guy Tan Kaixuan actually thought Zhao Fusheng's idea made a lot of sense.

So, Tan Kaixuan had his driver take Zhao Fusheng and him to the seaside, got some wood, and started cremating the two fish.

Well, then...

Who knew that the thing would get more fragrant as it roasted? Later, they had someone buy a few bottles of beer...

Many things, as you go along, you forget the original intention.

What Zhao Fusheng was grateful for was that neither he nor his father had forgotten what the original intention was.