Chapter Thirty-Two: Only One Day

Hearing Manager Zhao abruptly change the subject, Chen Qi couldn’t help but be stunned for a moment. He looked at him in surprise, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Manager, the situation is so urgent right now. Shouldn’t you be more concerned about whether I have any good ideas? Why are you worried about whether I’m leaving instead?”

“How could you possibly have any great ideas after just one day?” Manager Zhao looked at him with undisguised contempt. “Do you really think you’re some once-in-a-century genius?”

Chen Qi was left speechless, unsure how to respond.

“Alright, alright…” Seeing the faint hint of defiance in Chen Qi’s expression, Manager Zhao waved his hand impatiently and asked, “Well, do you have any good ideas right now?”

Chen Qi said nothing.

“See? You don’t, do you?” Manager Zhao’s face bore the expression of someone who knew exactly how things would turn out.

Chen Qi remained silent.

“That’s enough. This… it’s all up to fate now. I really have no solution,” Manager Zhao muttered, clearly having lost hope.

He understood perfectly why Chen Qi had no great ideas. After all, he’d only told him about the mobile phone advertisement yesterday. One day wasn’t enough time—even to begin sorting through the possibilities.

“Are you really leaving?” Manager Zhao repeated his earlier question.

Chen Qi nodded with a mysterious smile, lowering his voice. “I’m planning to do something even more thrilling and dramatic.”

Manager Zhao looked at him, as if wanting to say something but ultimately staying silent. Even the general manager had said there was no persuading him; Zhao knew he certainly lacked that ability as well.

As for Chen Qi’s talk of seeking greater excitement, Zhao had no curiosity left in him. Besides, young people like them chasing after thrills was hardly unusual.

“What a pity,” Manager Zhao said, looking at him with a trace of regret. “I was just starting to find you likable.”

Chen Qi couldn’t help but laugh. He was about to say something more when Xu Bunian, who’d just finished his phone call, walked in with a grave expression.

Both Chen Qi and Manager Zhao turned to look.

“Well?” Manager Zhao asked, his voice unconsciously dropping to a hush, even his breathing becoming lighter.

He himself wasn’t sure why he felt so tense. He’d already given up hope—after all, even if they got another chance, what could they do? They still didn’t have a good proposal.

“They’re willing to give us one more chance.” Xu Bunian shook his phone, speaking heavily. “They said if we have a better plan, we can go to their company tomorrow and present it directly.”

“Just tomorrow?” Manager Zhao’s face wrinkled in distress.

One day—how could anyone accomplish anything? It was hardly different from not giving a chance at all.

Xu Bunian nodded, his tone bitter. “Tomorrow they’ll also confirm the final cooperation details with Red Apricot. If nothing unexpected happens, they’ll sign the contract the day after tomorrow.”

Manager Zhao’s lips moved, but he fell silent, lowering his head in disappointment.

Xu Bunian said nothing more.

Half a minute later, both men simultaneously turned their gaze to Chen Qi, who had been quiet all along.

Their eyes were complicated—nervous, uneasy, hopeful, and anxious. At this moment, all they could do was place their last sliver of hope on him, even while knowing that hope was exceedingly slim.

Yet, in tacit agreement, neither spoke. They simply looked at him with those questioning, conflicted eyes.

“Hmm…” Chen Qi took a moment to gather his words. “I do have some ideas, but they’re not concrete yet. I need to study their data more closely.”

He had a tagline in mind, but wasn’t sure if the KUKU phone could live up to the explosive claim the tagline made. If their technology didn’t meet the tagline’s requirements, he’d have to think of something else.

Hearing this, Xu Bunian’s smile grew increasingly bitter, but he nodded gently. No matter what, the fact that Chen Qi was willing to keep trying gave them the tiniest glimmer of hope.

“Mr. Xu, prepare to visit KUKU’s office tomorrow. Whatever happens, we should give this last chance a try,” Chen Qi said, then turned and left. “You two carry on—I’ll look into their data some more.”

Xu Bunian and Manager Zhao exchanged glances: one offered a wry smile, the other sighed. Both felt a sense of defeat that was hard to put into words.

They knew that Blueprint’s days were about to grow difficult.

It wasn’t that they didn’t trust Chen Qi. The real issue was that they themselves knew the likelihood of Chen Qi coming up with a winning plan in such a short time was so low it could practically be ignored.

...

Back in his office, Chen Qi pulled out the document Manager Zhao had given him yesterday, zeroing in on the charging and power consumption data.

He took out paper and pen, carefully calculating based on their data.

Half an hour later, he set down his pen and smiled at the test results.

His calculations showed that the new KUKU phone could indeed support that tagline. If so, then the advertisement was essentially destined to be Blueprint’s.

Still, the numbers were only theoretical. There would always be some margin of error, and, more importantly, real-world use of the phone would be much more complex than these cold figures suggested.

Testing with an actual device would be safest.

But since the manufacturer hadn’t provided a sample phone, there was nothing he could do, nor was he inclined to worry about it further. Tomorrow he’d present the data and advertising plan to the manufacturer—they could test and verify it themselves.

Having confirmed that the iconic tagline, known to millions across the globe, would work, Chen Qi began to prepare the proposal. However, he soon found himself awkwardly at a loss.

An advertising proposal?

He’d never even seen one before, let alone created one.

He glanced toward his colleagues, considering whether to ask for guidance, but seeing them all absorbed in their work, he abandoned the idea.

“Forget it—a tagline is all I need. No need to prepare a full proposal. I’ll just present it to them in person tomorrow,” he thought.

Resolving this, Chen Qi carefully stored the calculations and then headed toward the post-production department.

He greeted the beautiful music instructor and spent the entire day there.

As the workday ended, he thanked her again and shared the news of his impending departure, saying he likely wouldn’t be back.

Hearing this, the beautiful teacher was stunned for quite a while.

“Goodbye,” Chen Qi said with a smile, waving gently as he turned and left with an air of calm.

Behind him, the instructor stood silent, gazing at his retreating figure with a complicated expression in her eyes.