Chapter 29: The Third Ending

"Brother-in-law, I told you already, those people are nothing but scoundrels. Please calm down. Trash companies like that won't last more than a few years before vanishing on their own!" Inside the taxi, Leng Zhimeng waved her small fists, comforting her brother-in-law.

"Vanish on their own..." Huang He’s expression was complicated. Counting on Tengda to fold by itself was impossible for at least the next twenty years. On the contrary, he could only watch as Tengda continued to boast and slap faces, rising to the throne of China’s online enterprises. Even a certain novel was living off Tengda, after all.

Well then, whether Tengda disappears or not, Huang He was about to leave Shenzhen. His business here had concluded, but doing so left him feeling deeply unwilling.

"Zhimeng, do you think our departure makes us a laughingstock?" Huang He asked softly.

"Hmm, that’s hard to say. Depends on how things turn out," Leng Zhimeng replied after a moment's thought.

"Depends on what?" Huang He asked curiously.

"It depends on Tengda’s future," she tilted her head. "If Tengda becomes a huge success, worth billions, then we’ll be the joke. People will say we overestimated ourselves, and our names might even appear in those high school essay arguments as the perfect negative example—overconfident, lacking intelligence."

"But if Tengda fails and collapses, then the embarrassment won’t be ours but theirs. They’d become the material for essays about the dangers of arrogance and refusing cooperation. The disgrace would be theirs, and we wouldn’t be affected," Leng Zhimeng concluded. Her logic was sound, and even Boss Huang couldn’t help but nod along.

Unfortunately, only Huang He knew how impossible it was to hope for Tengda’s failure. The second outcome was a fantasy he wouldn’t see in his lifetime.

"Is there any ending more satisfying than these two?" Huang He asked, still unwilling. Leng Zhimeng shook her head, unable to imagine anything better than the second.

"I do!" Suddenly, a voice spoke up.

"Uh..." Huang He was startled, then realized it was the taxi driver. Their conversation had no doubt reached his ears word for word.

"Oh no, this story is bound to spread!" Huang He tapped his forehead helplessly. Almost every taxi driver had the gift of gab, able to spin tales and leave you dizzy within the brief ride.

It was only natural—while driving, they couldn’t be distracted by other entertainment. Aside from listening to the radio, chatting with passengers was their main amusement.

"Sir, what’s your even more satisfying ending?" While Huang He stewed in regret, Leng Zhimeng couldn’t resist her curiosity.

"Let me ask you a question. You all know Flying Eagle razor blades, right?" The driver asked. Leng Zhimeng nodded vigorously. "Of course, my sister uses Flying Eagle blades every day to shave her legs!"

Hmm, that was quite the revelation. Whose legs need daily shaving? Zhiyue or Zhiwen? No clue. Zhiyue always wore black stockings, impossible to see her legs. Zhiwen’s legs, though, were smooth, white, long, glossy, resilient—like a retouched photo. It should be her, but such beautiful legs, shaved daily, would have enlarged pores and dark sebum buildup, nothing like their current appearance.

Huang He couldn’t help but let his mind wander, as the taxi driver continued, "That’s right. Anyone who’s used Flying Eagle blades knows how good they are. Nearly everyone in China uses them, and they’re made by our Shanghai Blade Factory!"

"But here’s what you don’t know: Flying Eagle blades were originally knock-offs. After Liberation, China couldn’t make good blades. Domestic razors left your chin bloody."

"So, an imported American Flying Eagle blade became popular—sharp and excellent, but expensive. A single blade cost a whole yuan, unaffordable for most."

"Later, Shanghai Blade Factory began to copy Flying Eagle blades. Through determined effort, we matched the American quality, but the brand wasn’t known and sales were poor. So they simply took the name Flying Eagle and became shameless copycats."

"In 1970, the domestic Flying Eagle blade launched, selling for just ten cents. Cheap enough for everyone, it quickly dominated the market. The American blades couldn’t compete, their market shrank."

"Even worse, the American Flying Eagle blades’ quality dropped, and they started causing bloody shaves too. Since both brands had the same name and packaging, many buyers who got the American version complained to Shanghai’s Flying Eagle, ruining the brand’s reputation!"

"Shanghai Blade Factory knew this couldn’t go on, but they couldn’t help the Americans improve quality. Then they heard the American Flying Eagle company was struggling, about to sell. So they bought it outright! A Chinese company swallowing an American one in a single gulp—how's that for satisfying?"

"Hahaha!" The driver laughed, clearly delighted. Leng Zhimeng’s eyes sparkled; this tale of a knock-off’s triumphant reversal was a first for her, and immensely satisfying.

"Is this true, or just a story?" Leng Zhimeng asked eagerly.

"Of course it’s true! My cousin works there, he told me himself!" The driver thumped his chest in assurance.

"Heh." As for Boss Huang, his smile was inscrutable.

Huang He had heard the story before—online, it was famous. Many had heard it, but because it was so widespread, some curious souls investigated it thoroughly, only to find a truth both amusing and frustrating.

First, the story was only half-true. Flying Eagle blades were real, but the American Flying Eagle never went bankrupt—it was a sub-brand of Gillette. If it had gone under, so would Gillette.

Shanghai Blade Factory didn’t counterfeit—both brands had different packaging, and Flying Eagle hadn’t applied for brand protection in China. The technologies differed, and the copying was minimal.

Naturally, Shanghai Blade Factory never acquired Gillette. Instead, Gillette partnered with Shanghai Blade Factory in a joint venture to enter the Chinese market. All Gillette blades and related products today are produced by Shanghai Blade Factory, with Flying Eagle integrated into the production system, though it keeps its independent brand.

So, the story was distorted—a half-truth, like many online tales, with everyone spinning their own versions.

"I understand!" Leng Zhimeng clapped her hands suddenly. "Sir, are you saying the most satisfying third ending is for us to start our own company, steal all Tengda’s business, drive them to bankruptcy, then buy Tengda, and stand before Pony Ma, saying with smug satisfaction:"

"Pony Ma, I really have to thank you. If you hadn’t refused to sell Tengda to me, I’d never be who I am today! Hahahahahaha!"

"Exactly! That’s what I meant—the most satisfying ending!" The driver laughed heartily.

"Mm, that idea is truly exhilarating, more satisfying than ninety percent of web novels!" Huang He was delighted, and a startling thought arose in his mind: "If I could really make this happen, wouldn’t that be the ultimate satisfaction?"