pjbooks Chapter 85 [Making Empty Promises]
Chapter 85 [Making Empty Promises]
Chapter 85 [Making Empty Promises]
"Oh, I see."
It was just a very light and plain sentence, as if saying that the weather was nice today.
When Liu Zhuohao spoke, there was little anger or shock in his tone, only a sense of certainty.
But this overly calm reaction left the comrades in the meeting room who were waiting for mediation, bargaining, or even crying and begging for mercy, as well as the parties sitting opposite him who were prepared to face anger or accusations, all stunned and somewhat at a loss.
The expected fierce confrontation did not occur, and the emotions brewing in the air suddenly lost their anchor.
For a moment, the meeting room became eerily quiet, with only the soft, even scratching sound of Liu Zhuohao's pen gliding across the paper.
"Ahem, now—"
Finally, one of the mediators cleared his throat, breaking the silence, and turned his gaze to the row of people opposite him. "I have already spoken with each of you separately. The proposed solution is for you to cooperate in making a public apology and giving the public an explanation."
Regarding compensation, Mr. Liu has stated that he does not intend to delve into the specific losses. However, based on relevant regulations and similar cases, and in conjunction with the on-site investigation, our department has determined that you both need to jointly pay 2,000 yuan in compensation.
As he spoke, he turned his gaze to Liu Zhuohao, his tone carrying a hint of explanation: "This amount of compensation is indeed not high."
"The main concern is that, Mr. Liu, there is a lack of sufficiently accurate and directly verifiable data to support your assessment of the specific duration of the business disruption and the economic losses you have suffered."
"Based on the existing chain of evidence, we can only offer this relatively moderate ruling."
He paused, his gaze sweeping back and forth between the two sides: "I wonder if both of you are satisfied with this solution? Do you have any other objections?"
The people opposite looked at each other, their eyes exchanging a mixture of relief and pain.
In the end, it was Mr. Liu, the fresh produce wholesaler, who nodded first, his voice hoarse: "Alright then—two thousand it is."
The shop owner next to him quickly pressed on, her voice urgent: "Comrade, that public apology—they'll blur our faces, right? You mean, they won't show our faces, and they'll use pseudonyms—right?"
The comrade nodded, but his gaze remained fixed on Liu Zhuohao: "Yes, a public but anonymous apology, and we will protect your personal privacy."
Although he was answering the other party's questions, his attention was clearly more focused on Liu Zhuohao, the aggrieved party.
The aggrieved party nodded, and the matter was truly resolved.
But Liu Zhuohao didn't say anything more than his initial "So that's how it is" from beginning to end.
He simply kept his head down and continued writing furiously on the paper, as if the rulings, compensations, and apologies around him had nothing to do with him; all his attention was focused on the paper at the tip of his pen.
Just then, the commotion over there grew a little louder.
Unable to contain himself any longer, the fresh produce wholesaler, Boss Liu, forced a smile that looked more like a grimace. He stood up, trying to take a couple of steps closer, clutching a half-pack of crumpled cigarettes in his hand, seemingly wanting to offer it but hesitant. His throat tightened as he uttered a dry, hoarse voice: "Boss, boss—Liu—Boss Liu—"
He stammered, sweat beading on his forehead, "It was my fault, I was out of my mind—you're so kind—I—I'll pay more for that money, but—can you—please don't let my family know? My daughter is still in school—"
Before he could finish speaking, the man from the couple running the stall next to him suddenly raised his head, his eyes bloodshot, like a trapped beast. His voice, filled with suppressed anger and despair, growled at the wholesaler: "Liu Laosan! What's the use of saying all this now! It's all your fault! Saying it's a sure thing!"
"They said if we took him down, the market would be ours! Now look what happened! My deposit! My goods! All gone!"
"My two sons are in school, and now I don't even have a stall. How am I supposed to support them through university!"
As he spoke, he reached out and started to pull at the wholesaler's clothes.
His wife clung tightly to his arm, tears streaming silently down her face.
The tattooed youth stood stiffly to one side, his face turned to the window, but his fingers trembled slightly, and his gaze occasionally glanced at the comrades.
He might not be afraid of himself, but he was definitely afraid of these people in uniform in front of him, afraid of having a criminal record because of it.
The scene became somewhat chaotic and awkward for a moment.
The comrade in charge frowned and was about to speak up to maintain order.
Liu Zhuohao suddenly raised his hand and waved it gently, indicating that it was okay.
His gaze swept calmly over the group of people—those who were fearful, regretful, resentful, and those who were desperately trying to save face.
Their current disarray, infighting, and fear actually extinguished the anger in his heart, or rather, made him a little impatient.
Liu Zhuohao turned to the comrade in charge, his voice steady enough to be faintly heard on the other end: "Boss, let's proceed according to the previously agreed plan. Two thousand yuan, and a public apology."
He didn't raise his voice, he just kept talking.
"Whether it's a lot of money or a little, it doesn't matter much."
He paused, his gaze sweeping over the wholesaler's pale face again. "The important thing is that this matter needs to be resolved. I don't have time to waste here. I have many other things to do."
These words, though spoken lightly, were like a silent slap across the faces of that group of people.
What they cared so much about was actually nothing to Liu Zhuohao.
The comrade in charge nodded, a hint of understanding and appreciation flashing in his eyes: "Okay, let's begin according to the procedure."
They stood up and began to confirm the procedures with these people.
Liu Zhuohao then picked up his pen again and began writing on the table.
He had long considered that, compared to the relatively casual interviews in his previous public affairs segment, this time he would be appearing on camera with multiple government departments, facing more formal and in-depth media reports, and his wording would definitely need to be more rigorous and withstand scrutiny.
But when he received the standard draft just now, he was still taken aback by the overwhelming, overly correct and sophisticated wording.
That's not something an ordinary small vendor would say; it sounds more like something a seasoned veteran with decades of experience in a workplace would say.
How can I phrase this in a way that appears cooperative while still leaving myself some leeway, rather than putting myself in a difficult position?
Liu Zhuohao paused, his pen still. From receiving the notification yesterday to sitting in the conference room today, this question had been swirling in his mind.
He was not even twenty years old, and had just graduated from high school. In most people's eyes, he was just a kid who had made some money by chance by setting up a stall.
Just like the people across from me, they don't know that before they started doing business, they had actually made a lot of plans, so that even if they couldn't make a lot of money, at least they wouldn't lose money.
In their minds, they were able to make money because of good luck; they "stole" the idea of "stealing" the steaks from the streets of big cities and put it in this small city, so they were the first to try something new locally.
I have no ability of my own; it's all based on luck.
Besides them, perhaps those colleagues who don't understand themselves are the same.
Age is very important.
So, going to appeal to your fellow vendors and represent them yourself? That would just make you a laughingstock and invite trouble for yourself!
However, the regulatory stance is also very clear: once the matter escalates and attracts attention, there must be a positive, effective, and even exemplary conclusion that can be promoted as a model case.
As the person involved, he must cooperate.
Therefore, Liu Zhuohao could only rack his brains over his wording.
That's how they think, I suppose.
I've been thinking about it from yesterday to today, over and over again.
But when he actually held the pen in his hand and faced the speech that needed to be rewritten, he hesitated.
"Leave some room for maneuver—" he murmured unconsciously.
"What?" The comrade next to him didn't hear clearly and turned his head to ask.
But Liu Zhuohao had already lowered his head again, and the pen tip was moving even faster, as if he had made up his mind.
That evening, the formal interview and mediation session took place in this conference room.
The entire mediation process was supposed to end during the day, but because the draft needed to be revised, it was delayed until the evening.
During this process, Liu Zhuohao's manuscript was repeatedly taken out for review and then brought back for revision due to its content.
Just now, the confirmation was finally completed.
A few more people appeared on the scene. They looked to be in their forties or fifties. They didn't intend to be on camera, so they just watched from the sidelines.
When the TV reporter set up the camera, adjusted the lights and microphone, and signaled that it was ready to begin, the camera slowly panned across the scene.
Several comrades in uniforms looked serious and sat upright.
The people in the opposite row had their heads down, their faces gloomy.
When the camera finally focused on Liu Zhuohao, it was clear that a subtle, almost imperceptible glint flashed in the eyes of the comrades present.
Unlike typical victims, Liu Zhuohao did not show any agitation or grievance in front of the camera, nor did he prepare a passionate statement in advance like the "model" he was presented with.
He simply sat there, a stack of papers covered in writing beside him, calmly looking at the camera, waiting.
The colleague in charge of the opening and process control cleared his throat, faced the camera, and began to narrate in a well-trained and steady tone: "Ladies and gentlemen, we are now at the dispute mediation site of the Market Supervision Administration."
"Regarding the previously high-profile case of a street-side steak vendor being maliciously reported, our bureau, in conjunction with the public security department, has conducted a thorough investigation and has now ascertained all the facts."
"Today, we are here to hold a public on-site mediation between the two parties involved."
He then recounted the entire incident in front of the camera, from the malicious report, the verification of evidence, the joint investigation, to the discovery of the truth.
After finishing his narration, he introduced the identities of both parties in turn.
The people in the row felt like they were sitting on pins and needles. At a clear signal, they stiffly stood up one by one, facing Liu Zhuohao's direction, with their heads down, and hurriedly said in a quick and unclear voice, "I'm sorry, Boss Liu" or "We were wrong," and then quickly sat down, as if standing for even a second longer was torture.
Liu Zhuohao also stood up and nodded slightly, which was considered as accepting the apology.
The whole process was brief, restrained, and even somewhat formulaic.
That's it.
The focus of this interview has never been on the earlier part, but on the later part.
Sure enough, the comrade changed the subject, his tone becoming more solemn, even carrying a hint of commendation: "Through this incident, we would also like to call on all business operators and merchants to operate in accordance with laws and regulations and with integrity."
"Market competition should be fair and orderly, based on products and services, and we must resolutely resist and reject any form of malicious competition and unfair practices."
With the groundwork laid, his gaze, along with the camera, steadily turned towards Liu Zhuohao.
"At the same time, we would also like to give special commendation to Mr. Liu Zhuohao, whose business practices in this incident have fully withstood the rigorous scrutiny of our regulatory authorities."
"His stall has all the necessary licenses and permits, his sourcing channels are standardized, his hygiene and safety standards are met, and his operating procedures are transparent. It's not just compliant and legal; it can even be considered a model student among street food stalls!"
He emphasized the words "model student" slightly.
The spotlight shone directly on Liu Zhuohao.
The camera zoomed in, giving him a clear close-up.
Liu Zhuohao could feel everyone's gaze—whether it was the supervisors, the person on the other side, the reporters, or the cameramen—all focused on his face.
There was encouragement, scrutiny, and curiosity in that gaze.
On the paper beside Liu Zhuohao's hand were words he had written after careful consideration.
It was much more down-to-earth than the previous official document, but it still carefully maintained itself within the framework of being "positive".
He took a deep breath, raised his eyes, and met the camera's gaze calmly for a second before slowly scanning the complex expressions on the other side of him. Finally, his gaze returned to the manuscript he had just finished writing in front of him.
"Sometimes, I feel that I should be more of an online blogger than a business owner or vendor."
Liu Zhuohao spoke at a steady pace, as if stating a perfectly natural fact: "So, whether it's the current street-side steak stall, the previous breakfast stall, or even the store I might be preparing to open next—I will probably prefer to run it with the identity and mindset of an online blogger, rather than a traditional businessman."
He paused, letting the somewhat novel concept settle down a bit.
"For me, setting up a stall, opening a shop, or trying other things is primarily about enriching my video content."
"These are the results I present to my fans, the persona I create online, therefore, profit is not my top priority."
His expression became more serious, and his eyes held a maturity beyond his years: "More than making money, I care about my reputation, the image I have in the hearts of everyone who follows and trusts me on the other side of the screen."
"Because the profit of the business can only be the second priority, I can unhesitatingly put a camera on my head to record every step from purchasing to production, not to pass inspections, but to let my fans and viewers see clearly and eat with peace of mind."
The comrades remained expressionless; these drafts had all been confirmed by them beforehand.
"Actually, besides setting up this stall, I have many other ideas—perhaps not very mature ones. I grew up in this city, and I always think about whether I can do something for it."
Liu Zhuohao paused briefly, seemingly organizing his thoughts, before slowly saying, "For example, I use my camera to record and share our local food culture, those old flavors hidden in the alleys, and those emerging new attempts."
"For example—regarding the student cafeteria!"