These past couple of days, something happened that’s genuinely worth talking about.
The story itself is simple: Zhou Hongyi, the boss of 360, wanted to auction off his Maybach and replace it with a high-quality domestically-produced electric vehicle. During the auction, a used car dealer going by the name “Chairman Zhu” placed a sky-high bid of 9.9 million yuan — then couldn’t actually pay for it.
And that wasn’t the end of the farce. Chairman Zhu also arranged a dinner gathering, deliberately inviting Zhou Hongyi and a crowd of people dripping with “street boss” energy to dine together.
During that dinner, an almost comical series of awkward moments unfolded: debates over whether someone had actually taken cephalosporins (to avoid drinking), a guest reaching across the host to shake hands, demands to exchange WeChat contacts — the whole spectacle.
Honestly, if you have the time and inclination, go watch the two videos. They are textbook-level case studies in catastrophic social behavior.
Let me start with Chairman Zhu, and simply talk about why his thinking and behavioral style amount to a complete and total zero.
First: as a used car dealer, he stretched far beyond his actual means, placing a 9.9-million-yuan bid on Zhou Hongyi’s Maybach — then couldn’t produce the funds.
This exposed three problems immediately.
1 — Chairman Zhu’s financial capacity is clearly quite limited. He couldn’t even scrape together 9.9 million yuan, which is practically the minimum startup capital for a used car dealer. He shattered his own reputation for substance in one move, essentially announcing to the entire world: “I have no power, no money, no resources.”
2 — He thought that by throwing out a 9.9-million bid, he had already created buzz and generated attention. What he failed to understand is that all that attention and all that “reputation” was purely negative — ridicule and mockery. Even if he had somehow produced the money afterward and bought the car, the world would have written him off entirely.
3 — In the real world, many top-tier used car dealers are quietly influential figures in their own right — serious money, serious networks, but invisible. Chairman Zhu’s performance announced to everyone in no uncertain terms: “I am absolutely desperate to attach myself to Zhou Hongyi. I will humiliate myself completely just to make it happen.”
So even with all this traffic and attention he’s gotten, the internet has a long memory. No matter how hard he works from here on out, people will instinctively see him as someone willing to abandon integrity and break promises just to get close to powerful people.
This will cause every major client who might have ever crossed his path to see exactly what he is — and keep a careful distance.
Because everyone will know: “This guy is willing to step on anyone to get famous.”
Tell me — for a businessman, is this building a reputation, or is it burning one to the ground?
Now look at the dinner he organized. Spend a few minutes observing and you’ll notice several serious problems.
1 — Every other “social player” at that table was sitting there with eyes wide open, hoping to use this occasion to attach themselves to Zhou Hongyi, and from there to other powerful figures. Which means not a single person at that table actually cared about Chairman Zhu himself.
He simply didn’t have the authority to command the room, the ability to hold court, or the presence to create a gathering where everyone — host and guests alike — leaves satisfied.
2 — As they say, birds of a feather flock together. Zhou Hongyi was visibly uncomfortable the entire evening — and yet Chairman Zhu’s friends kept up their low-tier chatter: “Did you really take cephalosporins?” “Hurry up and add me on WeChat, I’ll accept your request.” Zero respect, zero consideration, zero basic courtesy toward a senior figure who was their guest.
3 — And through all of this, Chairman Zhu sat there completely unmoved. Not a single thought about rescuing his guest from the situation, or redirecting the energy at the table. Of course — he lacked both the awareness and the ability.
Honestly, this kind of scene just makes me deeply uncomfortable.
The truth is, people like Chairman Zhu are everywhere.
They tend to cluster in the 30-to-60 age bracket: no real substance to speak of, yet burning with an obsessive desire to attach themselves to noble benefactors (Gui Ren), fantasizing about borrowing someone else’s momentum to launch themselves overnight.
But in all my years, I’ve almost never seen anyone like this actually succeed.
Almost all of them end up as comic figures — the laughingstock at the dinner table, the story everyone else tells for entertainment.
Why?
Because there is no shortcut to what people call “upward networking.”
If you want a powerful person to take notice of you — if you want that rare blessing of a mentor reaching down to lift you up — the prerequisite is that you have value and meaning they can actually use.
And after that, it requires sustained reliability and patience.
You learn to show up, again and again, to be useful, to make yourself available — and through that process, let trust and genuine friendship build slowly over time.
What you don’t do is use your thick skin to corner powerful people in front of a crowd and then swagger back to your pack of followers boasting: “See that guy?! I know him! We’re really tight!”
It’s worthless. Really. Because no amount of approval from a crowd of followers amounts to anything of substance. They can’t provide real, meaningful help.
In the real world, if you can earn the genuine trust and sponsorship of one truly powerful person — and perhaps get a nudge or two from a couple of smaller benefactors along the way — you can climb several major rungs in life.
That kind of opportunity tests three things: keeping your mouth shut, being reliable, and knowing how to stay low-key.
Only when people see that in you will they trust you with anything real.
One more thing, which is actually quite funny.
Not long ago, rumors spread that I have close relationships with several behind-the-scenes power players in the Jiangnan region, and that I regularly provide them with Feng Shui guidance and advice on traditional culture.
The result? Strange people started adding me as a contact — day and night — with almost identical opening lines: “Hello, Master Chi, I want to meet you, I want to connect with you.”
Honestly, I didn’t even know how to turn them down. Saying directly, “I don’t have time for you, and I have absolutely no desire to know you” — that feels harsh.
So I simply didn’t respond.
Let me close with something every adult needs to understand as basic common sense.
Always stay away from people who constantly name-drop who they know — because the people who actually have real connections are typically afraid for others to know it. The more people know, the more people come asking for favors.
And if you want to build a real relationship with someone, don’t be naive enough to think a few casual conversations will create a real bond. In this world, people who operate that way are seen as calculating, small-minded, and unsophisticated.
People of real value guard their time. They don’t have space to “connect” back and forth with you.
Especially when you cannot offer them visible or invisible value — just taking up a slot in their contacts list is already a cost on their time and attention.
As an adult, learn to be decisive. More importantly, learn to proactively offer value, benefit, and genuine usefulness. Stop waiting around like a slow-witted follower, hoping familiarity alone will open doors.
I believe the day will come when you too encounter your noble benefactor (Gui Ren).
Remember this — remember it clearly — when it comes to your noble benefactor, don’t disturb them without reason. You are not friends. And never cheapen that connection by overusing it.
Instead, learn to proactively create value and provide real benefit. Then, slowly, you will receive guidance, mentorship, and direction.
That is the only path that actually works.