Yan Kai yawned, leaning against the wall near the entrance of Marching Ant Company, where he had been waiting since morning. It was now well into the afternoon, and most of the other journalists had already packed up and left.
Still, he waited.
No one knew if Cook would show up today. But if he did—if Apple's CEO really came to negotiate with Marching Ant—it would be headline gold.
And Yan Kai wasn't about to miss it.
He was just about to give up and leave when a movement at the company gate caught his eye. A few staff members had come out and were now standing by the entrance, seemingly waiting for someone.
His instincts kicked in. Something was about to happen.
He quickly prepared his camera. A few of the other lingering reporters noticed too and began scrambling into position. The energy shifted.
Moments later, a sleek black car pulled up outside the company.
Li Lingfeng, flanked by others, stepped forward with a polite but purposeful gait. As soon as the car stopped, he moved to open the door.
Inside, Cook hesitated.
From behind the tinted window, he looked at the modern, imposing office building of Marching Ant Company. Just this morning, he had passed by without entering—now, he was walking in.
He felt conflicted.
The moment he got out of the car, the last few journalists outside pounced like wolves. Cameras snapped, shutters clicked furiously.
"Mr. Cook, are you here to discuss cooperation with Marching Ant?"
"Is this related to Apple's recent slump in China?"
"When is the Apple S2 launching?"
Despite the security keeping them at bay, they shouted their questions in English, hoping to catch a quote.
Cook's expression soured. Though used to press attention, he had no patience for this today.
He ignored the reporters entirely and followed Li Lingfeng into the building.
Inside the company's elegant reception room, Zhao Min was already waiting.
"Mr. Cook, welcome to Marching Ant Company," she said in fluent English, rising to greet him with a warm, professional smile.
"I'm honored to be here," Cook replied, nodding politely.
"Please, have a seat," Zhao Min gestured as she sat back down. "Did you enjoy touring Binhai today? It's a beautiful city, isn't it?"
"It's very beautiful," Cook replied with a thin smile. "I like it very much."
He was forcing the pleasantries, but Zhao Min played along gracefully.
"If Mr. Cook had more time, I'd recommend exploring more of Binhai. There are still many scenic spots worth seeing," she added, her tone light but deliberate. She had no intention of getting straight to business—Cook was the one here to talk cooperation, and she would let him feel the urgency.
"Indeed," Cook nodded, his patience thinning. "Ms. Zhao, if you don't mind, I'd like to get straight to the point. I'm here to discuss a potential cooperation between our companies."
Zhao Min's smile didn't waver. "Of course. It would be our pleasure to explore opportunities for collaboration. How would you like to cooperate, Mr. Cook?"
Cook leaned forward, expression steady.
"We'd like to acquire your company."
Straight to the jugular.
He gestured to his secretary, who pulled a report from her briefcase and handed it to Zhao Min. "Before coming here, we asked BrandFinance to evaluate Marching Ant. Based on their analysis, your company is currently worth 13 billion U.S. dollars."
Zhao Min accepted the report, scanned it briefly, and placed it back on the table without a flicker of emotion.
Over the years, Apple had earned mountains of wealth worldwide. With just 20% of the smartphone market, they claimed over 70% of the industry's profits. Apple had pushed its hardware margins to their limits—now, software and services were their next battleground.
Thirteen billion in cash was not out of reach for Apple. If they truly wanted to buy Marching Ant, they could easily pay that amount—and then some.
It was a staggering figure. More money than most people could dream of earning in a hundred lifetimes.
But Zhao Min wasn't most people.
She didn't flinch.
To some, this might seem like a godsend. To Zhao Min, it was nothing more than a number on a piece of paper.
"I must say, Mr. Cook," she replied smoothly, "that is a very attractive offer."
A flicker of hope flashed in Cook's eyes.
"But I'm sorry," she continued calmly. "We have no intention of selling."
Cook's smile froze.
"Ms. Zhao," he said, regaining composure, "is it that you think the price is too low?"
"No. Thirteen billion is a lot. But our decision has nothing to do with the price. We're simply not interested in selling."
Cook leaned in, his voice firmer now.
"Name your terms. What would make you reconsider?"
His tone was steady, but internally, Cook was pushing hard. Acquiring Marching Ant wasn't just a business move—it was his legacy.
If he could pull this off, he wouldn't just be Steve Jobs' successor—he'd surpass him. With Marching Ant's tech under Apple's banner, they could solidify a global monopoly and cross the trillion-dollar threshold again.
Zhao Min smiled again—but there was steel behind it.
"Perhaps I wasn't clear, Mr. Cook. There is no condition under which we'd sell this company."
Cook's eyes narrowed slightly. "Fifteen billion."
Zhao Min's expression didn't change in the slightest.
Fifteen billion dollars.
But it may as well have been fifteen cents.
She shook her head. "If that's what Mr. Cook came here for, I'm afraid you'll be returning empty-handed."
"Then name your price. We're open to negotiation."
"There is no price, Mr. Cook. We are not for sale. In fact, before you, Huawei, Tencent, and Alibaba all approached us. If we were going to sell, it wouldn't be to you either."
Her voice was still warm and professional, but there was finality in every syllable.
"If this is the cooperation you referred to, then there's really nothing more to discuss. Let's not waste each other's time. Yours and mine are both precious."
The room fell silent.
Xiao Yu, who had been quietly standing nearby, dared not speak. Her English was good enough to follow the conversation clearly, but the atmosphere had turned icy.
Cook's secretary also remained quiet, glancing occasionally at her boss.
Tension thickened the air.
Cook sat motionless, unreadable—but inside, the storm was brewing.
He had never been refused twice in one trip. And certainly not like this.