After hanging up the phone, Zhao Min left her office at once and headed straight to the finance department.
Chen Mo had called her personally.
He rarely got involved in company operations, so this sudden call, especially on the day the tax bureau was coming to audit, meant something serious was up.
Could something be wrong with the finances?
She didn't dare delay.
The tax bureau had informed them two days prior that they'd be checking accounts today. If something was really wrong with their books, it would be disastrous.
Inside the finance department, Sun Hong sat stiffly at his desk, staring at a bill and the open ledger on his screen. Despite the mild weather, sweat beaded on his forehead.
He slipped the edited invoice back into his pocket and reached for the next one, moving quickly to alter it.
"Sun Hong, what are you doing?"
The sudden voice behind him made his heart seize. His pupils shrank.
"Minister, I'm reconciling last month's accounts," he said, trying to sound calm.
"Give me that ledger. The president is coming."
"O-Okay."
Sun Hong quickly shut the account book and handed it over to Zhang Yi, who narrowed his eyes.
"You're sweating. Are you sick?"
"No—uh—just wearing thick clothes. And I really need the restroom."
"Wait a second," Zhang Yi called after him as Sun Hong tried to walk away. "This account doesn't look right…"
Sun Hong froze, panic surging in his chest.
Without another word, he bolted.
"Stop him!"
Zhang Yi's shout startled the entire department.
A few quick-thinking employees moved to intercept Sun Hong, tackling him to the ground just outside the doorway.
"Let me go! I didn't do anything! This has nothing to do with me!" Sun Hong screamed, struggling wildly as two male staff restrained him.
By the time Chen Mo and Zhao Min arrived at the finance department, the commotion was still ongoing. Everyone turned as the two entered.
"Chairman. CEO."
The room went instantly silent.
Zhao Min walked in, face darkening when she saw the situation: Zhang Yi and several employees were pinning Sun Hong down. Zhang Yi's face was like stone.
"What happened?" she asked, her voice tight.
"Chairman, President," Zhang Yi began grimly. "When I arrived, I found him tampering with the accounts. Caught him red-handed. He tried to run, but we stopped him. We've recovered the original documents."
Thank goodness, he thought grimly. Any later, and this would've been a disaster.
"Is it serious?" Zhao Min asked.
"Not too bad. He only managed to alter a few records before I arrived. We caught it in time."
He turned to the restrained man.
"Sun Hong, the company hasn't treated you poorly. Why would you do this?"
Tears welled in Sun Hong's eyes.
"Someone gave me 500,000 yuan to change the numbers. Please, I messed up. Give me a chance. I was desperate…"
"Desperation doesn't justify betrayal," Zhang Yi snapped. "You almost brought the whole company down."
"I was forced, I have a family!" Sun Hong cried. "My wife's in the hospital, I've spent all my savings, I've got a mortgage, car payments—please, I didn't know what else to do…"
"And that makes this okay? I sympathize with your situation, but actions have consequences." Zhang Yi's face darkened. "Call the police. This must be handled seriously."
"Please! I'll lose everything. Don't send me to jail! I have a child!"
"You ruined yourself," Zhang Yi said coldly.
Sun Hong was dragged away by security.
The rest of the finance department looked on in silence—some with pity, others with unease—but no one spoke up for him.
Everyone knew: if he hadn't been caught, all of them could've lost their jobs today.
Their eyes shifted to Chen Mo and Zhao Min, anticipating a storm.
"Everyone back to work," Zhang Yi ordered. "I don't want to see anything like this again. If you're unhappy, resign. Don't ruin your future for a moment of weakness."
In an instant, the department scattered, returning to their desks.
Back in the office, Zhang Yi stood before the chairman and CEO with his head bowed.
"Chairman, President. I take full responsibility for this. The finance department is my charge."
Zhao Min glanced at Chen Mo, her face still troubled.
It had been a close call.
If this had gone unnoticed and the tax bureau had found discrepancies, it would've been a PR nightmare—and a legal one.
"There was no way you could've predicted this," Chen Mo said. "You reacted quickly. We're not blaming you—but don't let it happen again. Go over the books thoroughly. The tax team will be here soon."
"Understood." Zhang Yi bowed slightly, relieved that Chen Mo wasn't punishing him.
"Also, notify the staff: after this storm passes, everyone gets a bonus—half a month's salary," Chen Mo added. "They've been working hard, and they need to know the company stands behind them."
"I'll let them know."
As Zhang Yi left, Zhao Min turned to Chen Mo, still curious.
"How did you know something would go wrong in finance?"
Chen Mo gave her a mild smile.
"Would you believe me if I said it was just a hunch? The tax bureau was coming, so I figured it wouldn't hurt to double-check."
Zhao Min gave him a long, skeptical look and rolled her eyes.
Liar.
Still, she didn't press. Whatever his methods were—they worked.
That same day, a reporter captured a police car parked in front of the Marching Ant office building.
Shortly after, tax officials were seen entering the building.
Photos and gossip spread online like wildfire.
"Marching Ant under tax investigation?"
"Company chairman arrested?"
"Did they steal tech from other firms?"
By the afternoon, speculation ran rampant across the internet. The Marching Ant Company was the center of yet another public storm.
In the conference room, tension was thick.
"President, due to the rumors, some of our component suppliers have suspended cooperation," reported Julie.
"Butterfly Eye OEM production has also stopped. The factory says unless we pay the full amount upfront, they won't continue manufacturing."
Zhao Min's expression was hard, her brows furrowed.
"Pay the remaining balance for the Butterfly Eye. But after that, cancel it. Terminate the OEM contract. We'll find another factory."
She turned to Ling Feng.
"Set up a press conference for tomorrow. We need to take control of this narrative."