Page 17 of Worth Fighting For

I falter. “Ah, yes…Facebook, YouTube…”

“Hah!” Uncle Jing snorts.

“What am I missing?” I say.

Shang clears his throat. “Our family is very traditional. G-one—that’s my uncles’ generation—thinks we should only stick to conventional advertising. Magazines, billboards, and so on.”

For a second, all I can do is stare blankly at him. “May I ask why?”

“Our brand is high-end, limited-edition whiskey,” Uncle Hong says with obvious pride. “We don’t pander to masses by hawking our product on social media.” The wordssocial mediaare said with as much venom as I’ve ever heard anyone say them. The other uncles and aunts nod in agreement.

I’m starting to understand why their sales numbers, so full of potential in the early years of the company, have started to fall. I understand now why everything else in their company has stagnated. I also know exactly what this company needs to revitalize it. But what I can’t see, frustratingly, is a way of getting my ideas across without causing them offense. Because it feels right now like I’ve found myself in a minefield, and I’m completely unprepared for it because, again, all the companies I’ve had these sorts of meetings with before have been eager to sell, whereas for some strange reason I need to woo these people.

Then, as I try to decipher what my next step should be, James says, “I don’t think selling to you is the right move for us.”

My chest constricts. A tide of pure shock washes over me. Not since my well-meaning parents enrolled me in soccer have I felt this outmatched. No. I can’t lose this now, not when my father is lying in the hospital, clinging to the hope that I will carry this through for us, for our company, for our legacy. I watch with increasing despair as Uncle Hong nods and straightens, ready to leave the room, and the words rush out of my mouth without consulting my brain.

“I understand completely what your company stands for. Wutai Gold is the gentleman’s whiskey, and there is no other like it in the market,” I hear myself saying. “We don’t want to dilute the brand. We’ll prove to the audience that Wutai Gold is just as masculine as ever. That what is stands for is strength and…” My mind scrambles for the right word. What would Baba do?You are not Mulan right now, you are Zhou. Think like Zhou! “Audacity.”

Everyone stares at me, unblinking.

“Audacity?” James says, one eyebrow cocked like he’s about to say something disparaging.

“It means boldness,” I say, at the same time as Shang. Once again, there is a momentary pause as we lock eyes. Is it me or is there a hint of color in his cheeks?Stop reading my mind, I want to snap at him.

“I know what it means,” James grumbles.

“I like it,” Shang says, breaking eye contact with me. “It’s catchy.”

“Yes, but no offense,” James says in a tone that is clearly meant to offend, “you’re just not the kind of person we had in mind to run our family company.”

Shang leans forward, opening his mouth, but his mother places a hand on his arm.

“You mean a woman?” I say, making sure I seem completely unfazed by this. Despite myself, despite knowing that I am above this, that I’ve spent years dealing with chauvinists exactly like James, a sourness churns in my gut. Baba has spent decades of his life toiling away, building this company from the ground up, and it was painfully clear that he is passionate about acquiring Wutai Gold. And though his reasons might be a mystery to me, I’ll be damned before I let him down. “Don’t worry, I will prove to you that I can be just as manly as you are.”

James scoffs, and then his smirk disappears when he sees the seriousness of my expression. “And how exactly will you prove that?”

“My résumé should be en—” But even as I say this, I can see the smug look of victory spreading across James’s face.

Then Shang says, smoothly, without looking up, “How about we invite her to the ranch? We shouldn’t make any decisions before Zhou can actually come to the distillery and assess it for herself.”

Everyone stares at him, and he finally lifts his gaze to meet mine. He raises an eyebrow. “You did tell me you’re a better rancher than I.”

I did?I want to squeak.Baba, what have you done?

“That’s a great idea. A ranch isn’t a place for everyone,” Mushu says. “Especially not weak-willed, city-bred women.”

Welp. I’m not weak-willed—anyone who knows me well knows that—but I am very definitely city-bred. “Mushu,” I try to whisper without attracting anyone else’s attention, but it’s no use. Mushu has found her stride, and when that happens, there’s no stopping her.

“All right, it’s settled! We will come with you to your ranch, where Zhou will show that she is no sniveling, high-maintenance city girl, but a man’s man who is ready to grab the world in a chokehold and make it give your company the success it deserves,” Mushu crows.

Oh god. What Mushu just said is so sexist I don’t even know where to begin. But somehow, it’s working. The Li family looks astounded at first, but now over half of them are nodding along. What is happening?

James snorts again, but before he can say a word, Uncle Hong says, “Fine. We are supposed to go in a day’s time for our annual family trip anyway, so you can come with us then.”

I gape at him until my senses slam back into place and I snap my mouth shut. I did not really just get the green light for a visit to the Li family ranch and distillery, did I? I manage to eke out a “Great, thank you for the opportunity, I’m very much looking forward to it.”

Am I really looking forward to it? Heck no. Still, it feels like the sort of thing one might say at a time like this. As everyone shakes hands and files out of the conference room, I lock eyes with Mushu, who grins and winks back. What has my well-meaning cousin roped me into?

---