"Liu Mingliang, come back soon. That celebrity's acting weird again. This could be big news."
"I'm in Binhai picking up my girlfriend. We're hanging out for two days—my girlfriend takes priority, unless you want me to end up single and miserable. Buddy, do me this solid, alright? I'll owe you."
"Damn, you dog. Just don't use up all your energy."
"Yeah, yeah." Liu Mingliang chuckled and hung up, adjusting the camera slung around his neck as he scanned the airport for photo ops.
Though he'd always dreamed of being an artistic photographer, reality had steered him toward celebrity stalking. Now, he was technically a paparazzo, chasing gossip for a living. Not glamorous, but it paid the bills.
This time, he was using his short vacation to meet his girlfriend in Binhai. Two whole days of freedom.
Waiting in the terminal, Liu Mingliang kept checking the arrival board. Still no sign of her flight—probably delayed. He sighed and looked around to pass the time.
Then he froze.
Cook?!
Anyone who followed tech news would recognize that face—Apple's CEO, Tim Cook.
What was he doing in Binhai?
Heart racing, Liu Mingliang instinctively lifted his camera and began firing shots as discreetly as possible.
Binhai wasn't a major tech hub like Donghai, nor did Apple have an office or R&D base here. And yet, Cook had arrived quietly, without press or fanfare.
Only one reason made sense: Marching Ant Company.
They were China's rising tech star—and just a few days ago, they'd launched the second generation of the Butterfly Eye smartphone. Cook's sudden appearance? It couldn't be a coincidence.
As Cook and his secretary exited the terminal, Liu Mingliang kept clicking until they slipped into a car.
Once they were gone, he zoomed in on the photos, double-checked them on Baidu's image search, and confirmed it: no doubt, that was Tim Cook.
Without hesitation, he made a call.
"Tiger, I've got something for you."
"Didn't you say you were picking up your girlfriend? Don't tell me you're calling to show off couple photos and rub it in."
"Her flight's delayed. But guess who I just saw at Binhai Airport?"
"Who, your mom?"
"Shut up—Tim Cook. Apple's CEO. I have photos. Looks like he snuck into Binhai to visit Marching Ant Company."
"No way! You sure it's him?"
"Positive. I've got the shots right here. Sending them now. This is headline gold, man."
He pulled out his tablet, plugged in the card reader, and transferred the photos.
By that evening, news of Cook's quiet arrival in Binhai had exploded across the internet.
Every major tech site and news outlet picked it up. The images of Cook at the Marina Airport—walking with his secretary—were plastered all over headlines:
"Shocking! Apple Comes Knocking?" – Squirrel Headlines
"Apple's Stocks Slide—Here to Beg for Help?" – NewsEye
"Why Is Cook Here, and What Is He Planning?" – Global Times
Speculation ran wild online.
There weren't many reasons for Apple's CEO to show up in Binhai—especially quietly, and especially now. The city had no Apple branches or events, and wasn't a typical destination for global tech leaders.
That left only one logical guess: Marching Ant Company.
"Apple's grip on the China market is slipping. Cook has no choice but to show up."
"Between China Micro and Marching Ant, Apple's looking like the next Samsung."
"The Apple Tax scandal opened people's eyes. Now even the loyal fans are turning away."
"Butterfly Eye launched before Apple could react. He knows he's in trouble."
Theories flew across forums and comment sections. Cook's unannounced visit sent ripples through the industry.
Even reporters from neighboring cities drove overnight to Binhai, hoping to catch a scoop.
Meanwhile, in a hotel room downtown, Cook sat staring at the screen, his face dark as thunder.
They'd barely landed. How had this gotten out so fast?
"We were photographed at the airport," his secretary explained carefully.
"Damn it." Cook clenched his fists.
Normally calm and composed, even he was on edge. The headlines made it seem like he was sneaking around for a shady deal—which, in truth, wasn't too far off.
The media frenzy only fueled suspicions.
Cooperation? Confrontation? A desperate negotiation? Everyone was guessing, and nobody believed this was a casual visit.
By the next morning, a crowd of reporters had already gathered outside Marching Ant Company's headquarters.
None of them knew where Cook was staying, but they were sure he'd eventually show up here.
Inside a car pulling up to the company, Chen Mo raised an eyebrow at the reporters camping near the entrance.
"Huh. That's a surprise."
He'd read the news last night. Cook's sudden visit could only mean one thing—he was here to meet them. Still, the early morning media swarm was unexpected.
"S-so, Apple's CEO... you think he'll really come here?" Xiao Yu asked, curious.
"Maybe. Maybe not." Chen Mo smiled casually. "Either way, I'm not bothered."
As their car rolled past the crowd, the reporters turned, cameras clicking furiously. But the windows were tinted—no way to tell who was inside.
Fortunately, the Marching Ant building had strict vehicle checks. No one could sneak past without credentials.
After verifying their ID, Chen Mo's car was let through the gate.
A short distance away, an unmarked Audi idled on the roadside.
Inside, Cook peered through the window at Marching Ant's headquarters. His expression was unreadable, but inwardly, his mood was foul.
It was strange to feel threatened by a company this young—especially one that only recently rented office space in a commercial zone.
Yet the pressure was real. And worse, walking in now might feel like a concession.
Apple's global dominance was facing cracks—and in Greater China, those cracks were widening fast.
Outside, long-lens cameras and hungry reporters lined the sidewalk.
"Go back to the hotel," Cook ordered quietly.
The ride back was silent.
His mood sank further when he received a call from headquarters. Apple's stock price had dropped another 0.9% following his arrival in China.
That was billions of dollars, gone overnight.
Sitting in his hotel room, Cook brooded for a while before making a call.
"Get in touch with the chairman of Marching Ant. Ask him to meet me here—privately."
He knew now: he couldn't walk into that building without handing the narrative to the media.
The war for perception had already begun. And he was losing.