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“Brewing Puer tea is like coaxing a dragon from a slumber, an intricate dance of heat and time. Yet now, folks take
the easy path, bottling its essence. Not just for sipping from a cap twist, but chilled, over ice. While our patrons,
they’re confined to the embrace of boiling water at a steadfast hundred degrees. And then there’s the matter of
aging tea leaves, the passage of time as their warmth dwindles, their flavors shift, how do we hope to keep up with
them?”
A heavy sigh escaped Anthony Robbins’s lips, his words laden with melancholy. “Father,” he began, voice tinged
with resignation, “I’ve long harbored the inkling that our venture isn’t a stroll through cherry blossoms. The
competition, it’s a maelstrom, an unrelenting tempest.”
He paused before adding, “Moreover, our roots run deep in the southern province, where resources and
connections flourish, but the industry remains an infant, held back by inconvenient pathways. Even if we transition
to dry tea beverages, like the neighbor with their famous old godmother sauce, we’d find the journey fraught with
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇthardship. Back when e-commerce was in its infancy, they reigned as sauce sovereigns. Yet, as the digital tide
surged, they found themselves adrift, left in the wake of a new era…”
Anthony Robbins’s gaze grew steadfast as he dared to voice the unthinkable. “Father, hear me out. Perhaps, it’s
time we search for a new home, a worthy spot to dock our company. You’ve toiled your life away; now, it’s the age
to bask in life’s twilight.”
Eric Robbins’s response was a dismissive snort, and he inquired sharply, “A new home, you say? This home of ours,
is that not good enough? Do you think it’s a breeze to find a place anew? If you’ve lost faith in the industry, how can
you expect others to believe?”
“Ours is the most precarious of times. Bigger fish are trimming sails, budget slashes all around. No one’s keen on
spending a dime to scoop us up, or those fledgling brands smaller in size. The market’s plagued by fly-by-night
schemes, hoping today’s seeds will blossom by morrow’s sun, and no soul’s
willing to burden themselves with a load like ours. Even the small fry view us as mere contractors, why, you ask?”
“The cost of our tea’s creation is steep! Without integrity, they’d probably hawk decayed leaves as ‘tea’ – as if our
artistry’s worth nothing.”
A somber exhale escaped Anthony Robbins’s lips, his query tinged with defeat. “Is there no window to cash out,
then?”
Eric Robbins’s nod was laden with sagely agreement. “Indeed, the current financial standings of our conglomerate,
factoring in market evaluation and net assets, should tally to around 1.12 billion. Let’s not entertain steep premiums
– a reduction to 800 million seems reasonable, doesn’t it? Yet, none approach with such an offer in sight. The
market grants no quarter for premium bids. Set the price beneath 500 million, maybe someone might nibble.
Descend below 400 million, likelihood surges.”
His gaze held, Eric Robbins continued, “But 400 million is a paltry sum. A fair valuation would be no less than 700
million.”
“700 million?” A disbelieving curl of the lips from Anthony Robbins. “You’ve time for such fancies, yet no plan to
tame the dealers tonight? They clamor for a 40% carve, a concession I can’t stomach. See if you can’t sweet-talk
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them to a 4,50 split after a few swigs. Time to seal the pact.” Anthony Robbins couldn’t help but interject, “Father, a
dream must find room to breathe. Who’s to say it can’t come true?”
A gruff impatience from Eric Robbins, “If someone forks over 700 million, I’ll streak thrice down main street!”
The spark of hope in Anthony Robbins’s eyes waned as he processed this audacious statement.
A sale beneath a hundred million yuan, perhaps?
The magnitude of his father’s pessimism was more daunting than he’d anticipated.
As both father and son stewed in their collective melancholy, an explosive crash sounded through the door. In
strode the secretary, a tornado of enthusiasm.
Before steadying himself, he blurted, “Chairman Robbins, Chairman Robbins, big news!”
Eric Robbins, a seething cauldron of irritation, flared at the intrusion. “Since when did you stop knocking? What kind
of manners is this?”
Disregarding the reprimand, the secretary gulped and burst forth, “Chairman, the Banks Group… The very titan of
our country! Their secretary just rang. They’ve voiced interest in acquisition talks!”
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