well outweighed the risks. Far more pragmatist than patriot, his greatest fear was a worthy opponent rising up and unmasking him. To Dhe, a fair fight was something to be avoided at all costs. He was a man for whom rumors and legend held as much leverage as the truth. At 73 years of age the director's formerly imposing stature now bent forward of the rigid spine, chest-out presentation of his youth. The air of accumulated secrecy he carried more than made up for it. The man knew where every single metaphorical body was buried and had dug many of the holes himself.
Yes, people feared Dhe, and for good reason.
Ten minutes of rehashed propaganda later he shifted, orienting his body toward Junjie. The move and his words bore down heavily. The young man found it a challenge to look anywhere near the minister's direction as Dhe's eyes burned into place, never lifting off Junjie even as he addressed the rest of the men.
"Today is a momentous day my comrades. The last three years have seen both ample investment and significant gains, promising tremendous returns for many more years to come. I assure you this: our leaders are watching with keen interest and anticipation."
Dhe then changed tack abruptly, directing his comments exclusively to Junjie. Walking over beside him, he leaned in so close that his breath brushed off the CEO's cheek.
"So," he asked, threat and accusation equally present in his tone. "What exactly may I tell them?"
Silence prevailed in the room, the blatant dismissal of cultural protocol shocking all around the table.
Junjie moved on positively, another series of data and timelines playing out on the LED wall.
He was bluffing.
Outwardly he appeared confident and polished. His inner-bearing, however, was anything but that. In fact, the longer he reported on their successes, the more Junjie became conflicted and confused.
Not satisfied, and cutting in before the young man was through, Dhe pressed the inquisition further still, to a point of decision and declaration.
"May we count on your full commitment?"
Leaning in, closer still.
"Are the systems operational?"
Dhe's question stayed there, leaving an awkward pause between the two men. The moment was Junjie's to seize or to squander, the very reason he had been invited into the room. Prolonging his reply by another few seconds, he did something both familiar and foreign to his people.
He prayed; silently, quickly. It was time to choose.
One last plusses and minuses exercise.
They'd met or exceeded every obligation. The contract fostered a far quicker ascendancy than even their loftiest projections. It was an opportunity thousands of other CEOs wouldn't hesitate to accept, not for a single second.
Still, nagging at his mind, what he could not ignore, was the unanswered question of what might happen once the tech was handed over to the government. Troubling him deeply was this: it was likely they had done too good of a job, creating something more potent than was for anyone's good. In his professional opinion the code being written was more appropriate to outcomes other than those stated in the agreement. Yes, for all the good it brought him there were things here that still made no sense. He surmised the worst. Pile on top of this the sudden removal of valued men and women and the hasty installation of their handpicked replacements, chosen by nothing less than high-level authorities in Beijing, and the whole thing took on a weight of uncertainty that was terribly disconcerting.
Maybe I should walk away, make some mistakes, be forced to hand over the work to someone else.
Zang had entertained these thoughts more than once over the last few months. It would not be that simple. Dislodging Dawn Star from her contractual obligations would prove highly impractical at this point. The move would also be quite difficult to explain.
Time was up.
Junjie's mouth opened, his next words formalizing an irreversible decision.
"My firm pledges itself in