A month later, on a morning, I drove to pick up Mr. Huang. Before I even got in, I heard a commotion inside—he was in a towering rage, smashing things up at home. When I stepped inside after hearing the ruckus, I found Mr. Huang clutching a golf club, having already wrecked most of the living room. Spotting me, he tossed the club aside, grabbed his coat from the sofa, muttered "to the company," and headed for the door. I hurried after him to start the car.
In the car, I gingerly asked what had happened. Mr. Huang took a deep breath and, in a voice straining to stay calm, said, "President Li says our group's leverage is too high, the risks too great. The loan application's been rejected. I told them to try other banks, but they all said the same thing—plainly, no one's willing to lend."
I fell silent for a few seconds, then asked, "What do you plan to do?"
Mr. Huang closed his eyes, furrowed his brow, and exhaled deeply. "First, back to the company. We need money badly right now—if banks won't lend, there must be other ways. Shadow banks, private lenders, or even fundraising if needed. I refuse to believe no one will lend to me with all these plots of land I hold."
After a pause, he added, "Here's what you do: find out who those bank presidents have been associating with lately, and report back. Bank presidents are always in the spotlight; plenty of people track their moves. Just butter up their associates with gifts, and you can easily get a rough idea of their whereabouts. Then sift through those for specific spots—restaurants, teahouses, clubs—check the surveillance, and you'll know when they went, where, and who they met."
It took a week to map out the movements of seven presidents. I discovered they'd grown unusually close to other real estate companies lately, with frequent interactions in a short time. When I sent this to Mr. Huang, he flew into a fury: "Dammit, I knew they were behind this! First, they took down my backers, drained my accounts, then got the banks to cut off loans—they're betting I can't adjust the leverage, trying to crush me!"
As mentioned before, New City Group's rapid growth stemmed from Mr. Huang's strategy: taking loans to buy land, then using that land to secure more loans. Round after round, leverage piled up—a model with a glaring flaw: sky-high risk. A single cash flow break, and the whole leverage system would collapse.
I ventured to ask, "Have you managed to borrow any money?"
Mr. Huang shook his head. "Not a cent. That bastard's dead set on ruining me."
I said nothing—I had no place weighing in. Mr. Huang paced the office, then stopped at the floor-to-ceiling window, gazing at the city. "Gather all the top executives," he told me. "I'm calling an emergency meeting."
I nodded and turned to go, but he stopped me: "Wait."
"Yes, Mr. Huang?"
"Go pick up Xu Min too. Have him join the meeting."
I nodded and left to carry it out.
Xu Min was a lawyer Mr. Huang had mentored. A northerner, he'd fled south years ago after getting into trouble. Stranded, he'd worked as a bartender at Mr. Huang's pub. Mr. Huang had helped him change his household registration, put him through college, then funded his law firm—Zhongzheng Law—after graduation. Initially housed in the group building, it later moved out as it grew. Few knew New City Group had no in-house legal team; Zhongzheng was its de facto legal arm.
I drove downtown, picked up Xu Min outside his firm. On the way, he asked what was wrong, and I filled him in. His face darkened. When I pressed, he said, "If New City collapses, all the people Mr. Huang crossed won't let us off easy."
I knew he was right. We'd done unspeakable things to grab land back in the day. If the group fell, I might not even know how I died.
Xu Min pondered, his expression growing grimmer, then sighed deeply. When I asked if he had a plan, he said, "I have a last-resort idea. Not yet—let's see if the meeting yields better options. If not, I'll speak up."
The executive meeting lasted two hours. By the end, everyone looked grim, and Mr. Huang had nearly lost his temper. The executives offered no solid plans, just urged him to scrounge up funds—none wanted to bet their savings on the group, fearing bankruptcy would leave them penniless.
After everyone left, Mr. Huang and Xu Min emerged. Mr. Huang's brow was knotted; Xu Min looked equally grave. Mr. Huang headed to his office alone, and Xu Min shot me a solemn glance before following—clearly, he was about to share his plan. I wondered what idea was so dire he'd held it back until now.