Zhao Min stood at the company entrance, watching Cook's departing car with a cold expression.
She wasn't just annoyed—she was calculating.
As someone seasoned in corporate warfare, she could hear far more from Cook's parting words than what was on the surface.
"Invited?" That simple word alone was loaded. Cook had spun the narrative: Marching Ant had invited him to talk, implying the Chinese company had reached out first—like a lesser partner seeking cooperation. It was subtle, almost innocuous, but in the world of business diplomacy, that single twist reshaped the whole public perception.
And "more cooperation to come"? That was also misleading. Technically harmless, but manipulative. With just a few lines, Cook had flipped the power dynamic in public view.
Zhao Min narrowed her eyes at the road Cook's car had vanished down. She rejected every interview request and stormed back into the company.
That evening, Cook was photographed boarding a flight from Binhai to the capital. There was no attempt at secrecy—this trip was public. He was heading to Apple's China R&D center and had announced a new round of investments in the Chinese market.
Online, the storm had already started brewing.
Clips from Cook's short interview outside Marching Ant headquarters were spreading like wildfire. The headlines weren't subtle:
"Marching Ant Invites Apple for Secret Cooperation?"
"Why Did Cook Come to China?"
"Has Marching Ant Caved to Apple?"
"Butterfly Assistant Soon to Launch on iOS?"
Speculation turned to assumption. Assumption into criticism.
Many Chinese netizens, not knowing the full story, believed Marching Ant had gone crawling to Apple for cooperation. And the backlash was swift.
"Already bowing to Apple? What happened to backbone?"
"I was just about to try Butterfly Eye, now I feel disgusted."
"Spineless traitors. Figures."
The buzz turned to vitriol. Half-truths spiraled into accusations, and soon, black-hat PR, internet trolls, and hired smear accounts flooded the official Marching Ant Weibo with insults.
Even positive comments were mocked as "paid washing posts."
Back at headquarters, Zhao Min sat in her office, fuming.
She had known something felt off about Cook's little media stunt. But with him gone, there had been no chance to respond in real time. She hadn't anticipated the internet magnifying it to this degree—or that it would be weaponized against them so quickly.
Just then, her office phone rang.
"Director Zhao, Apple's team is on the line."
"Put them through," she said, voice tight.
"Ms. Zhao," a smooth male voice came through the speaker, "Mr. Cook asked me to call and apologize. He regrets that his wording caused trouble for your company."
Zhao Min's face was icy.
A carefully worded, non-committal apology. The kind of PR-clean message that says sorry for your feelings, not sorry for our actions.
She knew Cook had done it deliberately. He normally ignored reporters—now, he had offered them a soundbite he had to know would be twisted.
"No problem," she replied coolly. "Please send my regards to Mr. Cook."
She hung up.
Then she dialed another number.
"Lingfeng, get the PR department moving. Issue a statement clarifying that we have not entered any agreement with Apple. Also, contact Attorney Li. I want him to begin collecting evidence for defamation. Especially from those so-called 'Big V' influencers. If they've crossed the legal line, we sue."
She wasn't playing games anymore.
Every time the company took a step forward, this swarm of trolls and water armies tried to drag them back down.
Time to bite back.
Within the hour, Marching Ant's official Weibo posted a brief but powerful statement:
"Marching Ant has not entered any cooperation with Apple.
We urge the media to uphold their professional ethics. Do not spread unverified rumors.
Truth remains, even beneath clouds. Time will tell all.
Furthermore, we are collecting articles and posts that constitute defamation.
Any individual or organization smearing our company will be subject to legal action."
The response hit like a shockwave.
Marching Ant was done tolerating nonsense.
Online, netizens exploded:
"The melons are hot and ready!"
"I felt bad for them a minute ago. But now I'm just cheering them on. LET'S GO."
"These army ants bite HARD. Even Brother Pingtou wouldn't dare mess with them."
"Did y'all forget how many fake-news accounts they crushed last time? Some people never learn."
Some influencers who had joined the smear campaign began backpedaling—fast. Public apologies rolled in, trying to explain they were "misled," or "just speculating."
Too late.
The internet wasn't feeling forgiving today.
"Another 'Big V' bites the dust! 😂"
"Bro you're not a Big V, you're a Big L."
"Y'all jump on every bandwagon like it's an Olympic sport."
"Funny how the 'truth-tellers' always forget to check the facts."
The official Weibo was flooded with supportive comments, roasting the backpedalers and praising Marching Ant's firm stance.
In his office, Chen Mo leaned back in his chair, rubbing his chin. On his computer, the clip of Cook leaving Marching Ant played on loop.
He let out a slow breath.
"So that's how you wanna play it, Cook?"
One offhand statement had ignited a national media frenzy. It was elegant, underhanded, and strategically perfect. Cook had passed the heat to them with zero liability.
And then, just like that, apologized—privately. The damage was done. The apology meant nothing.
Chen Mo smiled coldly.
"Alright, you wanna pit us? Let's see who can play the long game."
He tapped the desk.
"Ink Girl."
"Here, Merg-gege!" came the sweet, playful voice of his AI assistant from the speaker.
"Do we still have yesterday's recording with Zhao Min?"
"Yes, all backed up."
"Good. Simulate an external cyberattack on our servers. I want the entire company's system to appear hijacked from the outside."
"Understood, Master~"
Ink Girl didn't ask why. She never did. Her job was to follow instructions.
And Chen Mo's face had already gone calm again—like a scientist watching the start of a very interesting experiment.