Page 16 of Worth Fighting For

I’m burning with even more embarrassment at having witnessed Uncle Jing publicly chastise his wife in such a horrible, sexist way. But the auntie, probably used to him being brusque toward her, doesn’t seem to mind. With a shrug, she says, “We will talk more later about making a good match for you.”

“She does have impressive credentials,” one of the cousins says, and they all follow his gaze to the TV screen, which is now showing a large photo of me.

Next to the photo is my bio, detailing my graduating with honors from Princeton, and highlighting the biggest acquisitions I’ve spearheaded since joining Facai Capital, each one over a hundred million dollars’ worth of investments. I steal a glance at Mushu, who winks in return. Good old Mushu. I can always count on her to come through for me, no matter how ridiculous the situation. Growing up, the two of us were always as thick as thieves. Neither of us has any siblings, so we became sisters to each other in a way, and when I went to Princeton, Mushu chose to go to Rutgers, which meant we spent many a weekend in New York City painting the town red. I focus now on the strength that being near Mushu lends me. I can do this, I can carry this meeting through.

“Very impressive résumé,” Auntie Jiayi says.

“Yes, you make very good daughter-in-law,” Auntie Jamie says.

“Um, thanks,” I say, “but let’s circle back to the numbers. Ah, yes, here we are. This is your company’s financials sheet, which includes your historical and capital structure. As you can see, there are things we can do to cut down costs—”

“No cost cutting,” Uncle Hong says immediately.

Shang clears his throat. “Ah, what my uncle meant is we are hesitant to take cost-cutting measures because we don’t want the quality of our product to suffer. Wutai Gold is a smaller whiskey company compared to what’s out there, and what we have over our competitors is a reputation for quality.”

“I completely agree,” I say. “What I was about to say is that there are things we can do to cut down costs, but my proposed strategy is to focus on expanding the market.”

“That’s ridiculous,” James says. “How do you expand a market? This isn’t some fairy tale where you can just magically conjure up more customers.”

“How about you let her finish talking?” Shang says.

“I’m glad you asked,” I say to James the Asshat. “There are a few ways of expanding the market. One way is expanding the distribution, looking at foreign markets…China, for example, has an ever-increasing whiskey fan base, and the market is nowhere near as saturated as the US or UK. Another potential market is Southeast Asia, especially Indonesia. It’s the—”

“Soon-to-be fourth-largest market in the world,” Shang says at the same time that I say the same exact words.

There is a pause as we both stare at each other. Ugh, why does he have to be so gorgeous? Those dark brown eyes of his look as deep and rich as chocolate, and when he speaks once more, I’m momentarily distracted by the shape of his lips and how utterly kissable they look. Shang says, with grudging admiration, “Good to know you keep up with the global market.”

Is that a compliment or is that condescension? I can’t quite tell.

“Going worldwide?” James says, his eyes so wide they look like they’re about to pop right out. “That’s—”

“That’s what we’ve always talked about doing, but never ventured into,” Shang says.

“Because we’re already bleeding money!” James snaps.

“Well, Facai Capital is well connected in the import/export sector. Many of our partners are exporters of fine goods, so we would of course be cutting the most favorable export deals for the companies we invest in.”God, I hope that sounded as reassuring as it did in my head.

The Li family turn to one another and burst into an animated argument about the pros and cons of going global. I study them as they debate. This is, so far, one of the most perplexing meetings I’ve ever attended. Usually, by the time a company gets to the stage where they’re meeting face-to-face with me and Baba, it’s because they’ve come to an agreement that selling would be the best decision for them. But now, the only thing that’s clear is that the stakeholders of Wutai Gold are massively divided on their stance. James obviously is very much against selling, though I have a feeling James doesn’t quite understand the business as much as he’d like us to think. Uncle Hong, James’s father, and a few of the other uncles and aunts seem to be on James’s side. The other three cousins, Ryan, Thomas, and Christopher, seem undecided, and the only one who seems to actually be open to the idea of selling is Shang.

Furthermore, in every board of directors, there has to be a clear leader. From Baba’s emails, I would’ve guessed that the leader here would be Shang, but now that I’m meeting everyone in person, it becomes a lot less obvious who’s in charge. I instinctively sense that Shang is perhaps the one who has been the most hands-on with the business, the person who knows the actual ins and outs of it. But the others, like James and Uncle Hong, seem to have a lot to say about the company, which makes it nearly impossible for me to deduce who I should be directing my questions or suggestions to.

This is why I hate family-run businesses. And it also begs the question: If Baba had been able to attend this meeting himself, would he end it still as keen on going forward as he was before the meeting?

After a few minutes, sensing that the argument is now going around in circles, I call out, “Exporting the goods is just one of many ways of increasing the market. It’s an option we can explore down the road. But there are also things we can do within the domestic market.” Shang meets my eye, his expression unreadable, and I try to ignore the way my insides twist at his look. “I have noticed that currently, your market is very, very limited. It’s niche, so to speak. Your audience comprises solely older men in the fifty-five to seventy-five age bracket.”

“The real men,” Uncle Hong grunts.

“Sure,” I say, “but this market is, unfortunately, rapidly shrinking.”

“They’re dying,” Mushu says dryly. Heads swivel to stare at her, and she shrugs and says, “What? I’m just saying. They old.”

“Um, Mushu is right,” I say. “Not that they’re all dying, of course, but, ah, they are aging, and as people age, they don’t drink as robustly as they used to, so. This is the main reason why your sales numbers are falling.”

“And how are you going to solve that?” James says.

“Well, here at Facai Capital, we have a wide range of companies that we’re invested in. Many of them are marketing and publicity specialists, they have an extensive social media outreach—”

“Social media!” huffs Uncle Hong.

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