The air in the rented apartment felt somewhat stifling. The window was only open a crack, allowing the night breeze to squeeze through and carry in a trace of the autumn chill. Wendy Lynch sat cross-legged on the rug, her back leaning against the sofa as she hugged a soft throw pillow. The glow of her phone screen reflected on her face in alternating shades of light and dark.
On X’s trending list, hashtags related to Forrest Quinn stubbornly clung to the top twenty spots. Because of her search history and watch time, the algorithm continuously pushed various videos about Forrest Quinn to her feed.
"Five Kernel is just gross!"
"Forrest Quinn must think Five Kernel mooncakes are absolutely delicious right now, seeing how hard society is beating them up!"
"Playing dead, huh? If I close my eyes, do the netizens cease to exist?"
"They were desperately deleting videos and comments this morning. Why the radio silence now? Ran out of budget?"
"To be fair, I really like their packaging and flavors, but the patronizing boomer vibes of their ad copy give me a physical reaction."
...
Wendy’s fingertips swiped gently across the screen, her gaze calm and placid. The silent treatment was indeed effective in many situations, but not during critical periods like the Mid-Autumn Festival. She had looked it up yesterday; for many food companies, the mooncake business directly accounted for over forty percent of their annual revenue. This meant that the sales of this single month directly determined whether the company would turn a profit, or even survive at all.
Faced with a rival’s blunder, the other companies naturally wouldn’t show any mercy. One after another, they relentlessly kicked their opponent while they were down, determined to beat Forrest Quinn to death and carve up its original market share. Trying to employ the silent treatment now was practically no different from surrendering.
The recommendation algorithm accurately captured what users wanted to see. Soon, several advertisements for competing mooncakes began to appear one after another in her refreshed video feed.
"This Mid-Autumn Festival, we only want to hear from you."
"Riverbend Delights—understanding your heart better."
[Mix and match across our entire series! Only eat the mooncakes you want!]
Riverbend Delights was also an emerging mooncake brand, and their snow skin mooncakes were extremely popular with young people.
"Hahaha, emotional damage! I declare Riverbend Delights the absolute winner here!"
"You can actually mix and match? That’s awesome!"
"Who are they throwing shade at? I won’t say it, but we all know who."
"Order placed! Just for this level of passive-aggressiveness, I’m only eating your mooncakes this year!"
"Forrest Quinn: I feel personally attacked."
Wendy even saw that a few major influencers in the food section had stayed up overnight to release review videos. Without exception, the video thumbnails featured Forrest Quinn mooncakes photoshopped with the face of a greasy, middle-aged man. The titles were more savage than the last:
*Reviewing Different Brands of Five Kernel Mooncakes*
*Taste-Testing the Most Patronizing Five Kernel Mooncakes on the Internet*
...
Public opinion was no longer just a rushing river, but an all-consuming ocean. Forrest Quinn, that battered little boat, had seemingly abandoned all struggle in the storm, allowing the waves to smash it deeper into the abyss. Watching the almost entirely one-sided situation, Wendy truly couldn’t think of any way for Forrest Quinn to break the deadlock.
Time slipped away, minute by minute. On the wall clock, the hour, minute, and second hands overlapped at the top.
DING DONG.
Midnight arrived in total silence.
[You have a letter from September 24, 2025.]
Wendy’s spirits lifted slightly as she sat up straight.
"Which PR firm did Forrest Quinn hire? This move was insanely good!!"
"They actually didn’t throw an intern under the bus and had the boss apologize in person!"
"I don’t think anyone saw this coming!"
"During the livestream, the boss admitted he was the one who approved the copy without considering young people’s feelings. He also said he’d hand over all future marketing to the younger team. This attitude is so sincere!"
"The new ad copy is totally unhinged, too!"
"’Life never wastes energy on internal friction, just like this ad—who cares if it works or not!’"
"’I am a wealthy heiress whose brilliant life was stolen by villains, forcing me to work at Forrest Quinn! Once I finish selling this batch of durian snow skin mooncakes, I will make a comeback and take back everything that belongs to me!’"
"Besides the new copy, Forrest Quinn’s offline stores directly launched all kinds of tasting events."
"They paired that with various online discounts and customized Mid-Autumn gift boxes."
"It only took half a day! Literally just half a day! By nightfall, the public sentiment had completely reversed!!"
"This maneuver is unreal! All the negative press was instantly converted into positive traffic!!"
"This is textbook, god-tier public relations!"
...
After finishing the email, Wendy felt a surge of astonishment. Initially, she had thought Forrest Quinn already had one foot in the grave and that its demise was only a matter of time. Yet, they had actually turned defeat into victory simply by having the boss drop to his knees and apologize.
Yesterday’s email hadn’t mentioned this PR incident, nor had she taken any actions today that could have influenced the future. This meant that this god-tier PR move would definitely take place the day after tomorrow. Factoring in the preparation time required for the PR campaign, the time left for her might be running out. She had one day, or perhaps even just a few hours.
After pondering for a moment, two clear paths presented themselves before her.
The first: she could rely entirely on the strategies and copy mentioned in the email to immediately start fleshing out her own PR proposal. Using this precious half-day, she could polish every detail to perfection. Then, bypassing her own company, she could approach Forrest Quinn’s boss directly as an independent consultant. She wouldn’t even need them to pay any upfront fees. Armed with her foresight of the future, she could sign a performance wager with them. If the PR was successful, she would walk away with a massive payout. If it failed, she wouldn’t take a single dime. With the emails from the future on her side, it was a guaranteed win.
The other path was to report upwards and hand her proposal over to her company. Through this achievement, she could help the firm win back Forrest Quinn as a client and survive this moderate crisis. Doing so would likely only earn her a few perfunctory words of thanks in the short term, and perhaps the gratitude of her project team colleagues. But in the long run, this merit would be more than enough to easily secure her promotion to S4.
Wendy leaned back against the sofa, thinking seriously for a long time. Between the recent commendation from the Food and Drug Administration, the incident where she saved Evans, and this potential achievement, securing an A-level rating at the year-end review was a sure thing. This meant she would be promoted to S4 next year without a hitch. By climbing to a higher position, the information she could access in the future would become even more valuable.
However, she also considered that if she successfully helped Forrest Quinn weather this crisis on her own, she wouldn’t just earn a massive payout; she could even carve out a solid reputation for herself within the industry.
Suddenly, a new idea sparked in Wendy’s mind.