A Taiwanese Millionaire Shamed a Waitress During a $2 Million Deal — Then She Answered in Mandarin

「她連合約第七條是什麼都不懂，卻想教我們怎麼做生意。」

She doesn't even understand Clause Seven, yet she wants to tell us how to do business.

My eyes moved toward the document lying beside his teacup.

Clause Seven.

There it was.

The reason I'd nearly dropped my tray twenty minutes earlier.

The reason the blood had drained from Yu-han's face when she saw me enter.

And the reason Victor Hsu had been smiling at me from the moment I arrived.

Two days earlier, that clause had meant something entirely different.

I took a breath.

The chairman looked toward me again.

“Why are you standing there? Didn't you hear me?”

I lifted my eyes.

Then answered in Mandarin.

「不用翻譯。我聽得懂。」

No translation is necessary. I understand.

The room went completely silent.

Chairman Hsu froze.

His pointing finger remained suspended in the air.

I continued, speaking clearly in the careful, natural Mandarin I'd spent years learning in Taipei.

「而且我知道，你們偷偷改了合約第七條。」

And I know you secretly changed Clause Seven.

Victor stopped smiling.

Yu-han stared at me.

The chairman leaned forward.

“What?”

I placed my brown notebook on the table.

Then I answered him in English.

“You changed a limited commercialization license into a permanent transfer of the underlying patent rights.”

For several seconds, no one spoke.

I looked toward Victor.

“The English executive summary still describes a regional licensing arrangement. But the controlling Chinese-language draft now requires the transfer of worldwide rights, including future improvements.”

The chairman's expression hardened.

“Who told you that?”

I met his eyes.

“Your document did.”