"Money cannot repair every broken thing. Sometimes, its greatest value is simply giving people enough time to repair themselves."
At eight forty-seven on Monday morning, the printing department at Xinghe Group stopped functioning.
Not gradually.
Not with a polite warning from the machines.
It stopped with the violent grinding of metal, the sharp crack of something breaking inside the largest commercial printer, and a puff of gray smoke that sent three employees rushing away from it.
A second later, the emergency alarm began to shriek.
Sang Yaoyao was halfway through reviewing an advertising budget when Lin Xiaoxiao grabbed her sleeve.
"Please tell me that isn't the printer responsible for the Yunhe campaign materials."
Yaoyao looked through the glass partition.
Employees were gathering around the damaged machine while the department supervisor spoke urgently into his phone.
"It is."
Xiaoxiao's face went pale.
"The client presentation is in four days."
The Yunhe campaign was one of Xinghe Group's largest projects of the quarter. Nearly thirty thousand brochures, sample booklets, product inserts, and display materials had to be completed before Friday morning.
Xinghe's internal printing department handled small revisions and emergency orders, but most large-volume work was outsourced to Qinghe Printing, a local supplier that had worked with the company for several years.
Manager Zhou strode into the department with his expression already twisted in irritation.
"What happened?"
"The main printer's pressure assembly failed," the supervisor explained. "Maintenance says it will take at least five days to replace the part."
"Then send the order to Qinghe."
The supervisor hesitated.
"We did."
"And?"
"They can't accept it."
Manager Zhou's voice sharpened. "Why not?"
"Their largest press broke down last night."
The entire department fell silent.
Manager Zhou stared at him as if he had personally arranged both equipment failures.
"Find another supplier."
"We've contacted six. Two are fully booked, three can't meet our quality requirements, and the last one quoted nearly triple our contracted rate."
"Then pay it."
Deputy Director Han had entered without anyone noticing.
He carried a slim folder beneath one arm and studied the room with a calmness that contrasted sharply with Manager Zhou's anger.
"The deadline matters more than the margin," he said.
Manager Zhou lowered his voice. "Director Han, if we accept that quote, the campaign will barely remain profitable."
"And if we miss the presentation, we may lose the client entirely."
The answer was obvious.
Yet as the department began making calls, Yaoyao kept thinking about Qinghe Printing.
A company did not normally refuse one of its most important clients unless the problem was serious.
She opened the supplier records on her computer.
Qinghe Printing had operated for twelve years. Its delivery record was nearly flawless. It employed thirty-six people and had never requested an early payment from Xinghe.
But during the previous three months, its turnaround time had gradually lengthened.
Not enough to trigger a complaint.
Enough to suggest strain.
She clicked through the recent invoices.
Paper costs had increased.
Several payments had been split into smaller installments.
One equipment maintenance charge was far larger than the others.
The numbers formed a pattern.
Qinghe had not suffered one sudden breakdown.
It had been surviving several smaller ones.
A faint chime sounded beside her ear.
Mochi appeared above the corner of her monitor, invisible to everyone else. He sat cross-legged in the air, his round face unusually thoughtful.
"Host."
"I see it."
"You haven't received the mission yet."
"That doesn't mean I can't think."
His tiny mouth curved.
"That was almost impressive."
Before she could respond, pale gold light unfolded across her vision.
Weekday Spending Mission
The Value of Time
Spend ¥200,000 creating sustainable long-term value.
The expenditure must not be a donation.
The recipient must retain the ability to determine their own future.
Time Limit: Forty-eight hours
Yaoyao read the conditions twice.
Not a donation.
Long-term value.
The recipient had to retain control.
Her gaze returned to Qinghe Printing's financial records.
"Mochi."
"Yes?"
"Can the mission fail even if I spend the full amount?"
"Of course."
"What happens if the investment is poor?"
"You lose money."
She turned to him.
"That's all?"
"What were you expecting? Lightning?"
"A warning."
"The world rarely gives one."
The screen disappeared.
Yaoyao closed the supplier file and stood.
"I need to visit Qinghe."
Lin Xiaoxiao stared at her. "Now?"
"Yes."
"For what?"
"To find out why a company with a good contract history suddenly can't complete its most important order."
Manager Zhou overheard her from across the room.
"That isn't an intern's responsibility."
Yaoyao looked at him calmly.
"No. But understanding supplier risk is part of business operations."
"You have assigned work."
"I finished the budget review. The revised file is already in your inbox."
His expression tightened.
Deputy Director Han glanced at the clock.
"Take Xiaoxiao with you."
Manager Zhou turned. "Director Han—"
"If Qinghe's problem can be solved faster than finding a new supplier, I want to know."
Han looked at Yaoyao.
"You have two hours."
She nodded.
"That's enough."
Qinghe Printing occupied an old industrial building near the western canal.
Its blue sign had faded under years of sun, but the entrance was clean. Bundles of paper were stacked beneath waterproof coverings, and the employees moving through the workshop wore matching gray uniforms.
The building should have been noisy.
Instead, the silence felt unnatural.
The main printing press stood in the center of the workshop with its metal casing open. Two technicians were crouched beside it while a middle-aged man watched from several feet away.
He had tired eyes, ink-stained fingers, and the rigid posture of someone forcing himself not to collapse.
When Yaoyao introduced herself, his face filled with embarrassment.
"I'm Chen Guowei, the owner."
He glanced toward the damaged press.
"I'm sorry Xinghe sent you here for nothing. We can't accept the Yunhe order."
"What failed?"
"The control board burned out. The technicians can repair it, but the feeder system is also near the end of its life."
"How much?"
Chen Guowei did not answer immediately.
One of the technicians looked up.
"A refurbished control board and feeder replacement will cost around one hundred and sixty thousand. Labor and calibration will bring it close to one hundred and eighty thousand."
"And the repair time?"
"If the parts are ordered today, perhaps thirty-six hours."
Xiaoxiao inhaled sharply.
"That would give us enough time."
Chen Guowei shook his head.
"It doesn't matter."
He led them into a small office overlooking the workshop.
The furniture was old but carefully maintained. Framed photographs showed the business in earlier years—fewer machines, younger employees, Chen Guowei standing beside a woman and two children.
He poured tea for them despite his obvious exhaustion.
"Our cash is tied up in receivables," he explained. "Two clients delayed payment. The bank rejected our new loan because we used the warehouse as collateral for the previous equipment purchase."
"How much debt do you currently have?" Yaoyao asked.
Xiaoxiao looked at her in surprise.
Chen Guowei did too.
Then something in her expression seemed to convince him she wasn't asking casually.
"Four hundred and eighty thousand remaining on the equipment loan. Another ninety thousand in short-term supplier credit."
"Payroll?"
"Due in nine days."
"Can you cover it?"
His silence answered.
Yaoyao looked through the glass wall at the employees gathered around the dead press.
"How many of them know?"
"None."
"Your accountant?"
"My wife handles the books."
"May I review them?"
Chen Guowei's face hardened slightly.
"Xinghe has no right to inspect our full accounts."
"You're correct."
She reached into her bag and placed a blank notebook on the desk.
"I'm not asking on Xinghe's behalf."
His eyes narrowed.
"Then why are you asking?"
"Because I may be willing to invest."
Xiaoxiao nearly dropped her teacup.
Chen Guowei stared at Yaoyao for several seconds.
"You?"
"Yes."
"You're a student."
"Yes."
"And an intern."
"Yes."
He gave a tired laugh.
"I don't mean to insult you, Miss Sang, but this is not a small favor. Qinghe needs more than someone paying for a repair."
"I know."
Yaoyao folded her hands.
"That is why I want to see the accounts."
The skepticism remained in his eyes, but beneath it was something more fragile.
Hope.
Hope made people careless.
Yaoyao did not want him accepting simply because he felt cornered.
"If the business cannot survive without continuous outside support, I won't invest," she said. "If the equipment failure is the only problem, I still won't invest until I understand why you had no emergency reserve."
Chen Guowei's expression changed.
"You're not here to rescue us."
"No."
"Then what do you want?"
"A fair return from a business capable of recovering."
For the first time, he looked at her as something other than a young visitor.
He opened the bottom drawer of his desk.
"We keep digital records, but these are the signed contracts and loan documents."
He placed three thick folders before her.
"You can review them here."
For the next hour and twenty minutes, Yaoyao studied Qinghe Printing.
The company was not failing because it lacked customers.
It was failing because it had grown without financial discipline.
Chen Guowei had used most of the company's profit to purchase better equipment, believing higher capacity would guarantee stability. When two major clients delayed payments, Qinghe had no reserve.
The business had valuable contracts, trained employees, and repeat customers.
It also had weak cash-flow management and no formal process for setting aside maintenance funds.
Yaoyao wrote three figures in her notebook.
Average monthly revenue.
Average operating expenses.
Outstanding receivables.
Then she calculated what Qinghe could produce after the press was repaired.
"You're profitable," she said.
Chen Guowei nodded slowly.
"Usually."
"But your profits aren't protected."
His shoulders sank.
"I know."
"Why didn't you sell part of the business earlier?"
"To whom?"
He looked through the glass at the workshop.
"Two years ago, a larger printing company offered to buy us. They wanted the contracts and the building. Most of my employees would have been dismissed."
"So you refused."
"Some of those people have been with me since Qinghe opened."
His voice was quiet.
"I couldn't sell their jobs for my own security."
Yaoyao understood that answer more than he knew.
At Sunrise Children's Home, Director Chen had often said that responsibility began when another person's tomorrow depended on your decision.
She turned to a new page.
"I can invest two hundred thousand yuan."
Chen Guowei's fingers tightened around his cup.
"In exchange for what?"
"Ten percent equity."
Xiaoxiao looked between them.
Chen Guowei's expression became guarded again.
"Based on our previous annual profit, the company is worth more than two million."
"Under normal conditions, yes."
Yaoyao met his gaze.
"But Qinghe currently has damaged equipment, overdue receivables, insufficient payroll reserves, and no access to additional credit. A distressed investor could demand twenty or thirty percent."
"Are you saying ten percent is generous?"
"I'm saying it is fair to both of us."
She slid her notebook toward him.
"Of the two hundred thousand, one hundred and eighty thousand must be used for equipment repair. The remaining twenty thousand will begin an emergency reserve."
"What about payroll?"
"Xinghe owes Qinghe sixty-eight thousand from last month's completed order. I'll ask Deputy Director Han whether the payment can be expedited."
"You can do that?"
"I can ask. I cannot promise."
She tapped the second page.
"After the press is repaired, the Yunhe order will produce enough margin to cover payroll. But going forward, five percent of monthly revenue must be placed in a protected equipment and emergency account until it reaches six months of essential operating expenses."
Chen Guowei studied the numbers.
"You've planned all this in an hour?"
"I reviewed the business you already built."
She paused.
"I'm not asking for operational control. You will continue managing Qinghe. But I want monthly financial reports, access to major contracts, and approval rights if the company takes on significant new debt."
"Significant?"
"Anything above three hundred thousand."
"And if I refuse?"
"I leave."
The answer was gentle, but there was no hesitation in it.
The room fell silent.
Outside, one of the employees laughed at something a technician said. The sound was brief, but it seemed to make Chen Guowei's decision heavier.
"I need to speak with my wife."
"You should also speak with an independent lawyer."
He looked up sharply.
"You're advising me to hire a lawyer against you?"
"I'm advising you not to sign an agreement you don't fully understand."
Something in his face softened.
"How long do I have?"
"The replacement parts must be ordered today."
"Then not long."
"No."
Yaoyao stood.
"But pressure is not a reason to abandon caution."
Deputy Director Han listened without interrupting.
When Yaoyao finished explaining Qinghe's situation, he leaned back in his chair.
"You want Xinghe to release an invoice payment early."
"Yes."
"And guarantee the Yunhe order if Qinghe repairs the press."
"Only if they pass a calibration test before production."
Han studied her.
"You've already considered quality control."
"It would be irresponsible not to."
"And you intend to invest personally?"
"Yes."
Manager Zhou, seated on the other side of the office, gave a humorless laugh.
"This is absurd. She's an intern, not a venture capitalist."
Yaoyao turned toward him.
"No. I'm a potential minority shareholder evaluating a supplier with positive operating history."
"You could lose everything."
"I could."
The simple answer seemed to irritate him more than an argument would have.
Deputy Director Han tapped one finger against the desk.
"Why ten percent?"
"Because Qinghe is distressed, not worthless. I want enough equity for the risk to be reasonable without exploiting the owner's lack of alternatives."
"And if the company fails?"
"I lose two hundred thousand yuan."
Han's eyes remained on her face.
"You understand that compassion does not improve a balance sheet."
"No."
Yaoyao thought of the thirty-six employees in the quiet workshop.
"But good management can."
For several seconds, Han said nothing.
Then he picked up his phone.
"Finance can release the sixty-eight thousand by tomorrow afternoon."
Manager Zhou stiffened.
"Director Han—"
"In exchange, Qinghe will sign a revised production schedule and accept a penalty clause if the Yunhe materials are delayed."
Han looked at Yaoyao.
"Business requires trust. Contracts exist for the day trust becomes insufficient."
"I understand."
"I suspect you do."
At six thirty that evening, Chen Guowei called.
"My wife and I reviewed your proposal with a lawyer."
Yaoyao stood beside her apartment window, watching headlights move through the rain below.
"And?"
"We want to accept."
"Did the lawyer recommend any changes?"
"A few."
"Send them to me."
"You're not agreeing first?"
"No."
There was a pause.
Then Chen Guowei laughed softly.
"You really are cautious."
"I'm investing in a business whose owner used nearly all his reserves on machinery."
"That sounds much worse when you say it."
"It was already bad before I said it."
Mochi floated beside the window, covering his mouth to hide a laugh.
The revised agreement arrived ten minutes later.
Yaoyao opened it on her laptop.
As she reached the section concerning shareholder rights, a cool sensation moved behind her eyes.
The words seemed to sharpen.
One sentence glowed faintly.
The lawyer had added a clause allowing the majority owner to issue new shares with approval from only fifty-one percent of existing voting rights.
Since Chen Guowei would retain ninety percent, he could dilute her stake at any time.
It might not be intentional.
It was still dangerous.
Yaoyao called him back.
"Section eleven needs to change."
"What's wrong with it?"
"The new-share provision. Any issuance that dilutes an existing shareholder should require unanimous approval until the company reaches an independently assessed valuation above five million yuan."
Chen Guowei went quiet.
"Our lawyer added that."
"Ask him why."
Half an hour later, the revised clause returned.
This time, nothing glowed.
Yaoyao read the agreement twice more before signing.
At seven forty-three, she transferred two hundred thousand yuan into Qinghe Printing's business account.
The receipt appeared on her screen.
No fireworks followed.
No instant celebration.
Only a bank confirmation and the quiet knowledge that she now owned ten percent of a company whose future was uncertain.
Mochi settled onto the edge of her desk.
"How do you feel?"
"Terrified."
"Good."
"You said that last time."
"It keeps being appropriate."
Her phone vibrated again.
A photograph from Chen Guowei.
The employees stood around the damaged press while the technicians loaded replacement parts from a delivery truck. Someone had taped a handwritten sign to the machine.
WE START AGAIN TOMORROW.
Below the picture was a short message.
Thirty-six people will sleep better tonight. Thank you.
Yaoyao stared at the words.
She had spent money before.
On clothes.
On food.
On a computer.
Those purchases had disappeared into moments.
This felt different.
The two hundred thousand had not bought a machine.
It had bought time.
Time for a company to recover.
Time for employees to keep their salaries.
Time for Chen Guowei to correct the mistakes that had brought Qinghe to the edge.
Mochi's voice softened.
"Do you understand the mission now?"
"Yes."
"Tell me."
"Money doesn't always create value by building something new."
She looked at the photograph again.
"Sometimes it protects what still deserves the chance to survive."
Two evenings later, Qinghe completed the calibration test.
By Thursday afternoon, the Yunhe order was running at full production.
Deputy Director Han placed the inspection report on Yaoyao's desk.
"Zero color deviation. Delivery is scheduled for tomorrow morning."
"That's good."
"It is."
He did not leave.
Instead, he placed a black envelope beside the report.
"What is this?"
"An invitation."
Embossed silver letters crossed the front.
Cloud City Young Investors Networking Dinner
Yaoyao looked up.
"I'm not a member."
"No. One of Xinghe's seats became available."
"Why give it to me?"
Han's expression remained calm.
"Because most people in that room will speak confidently about investments they have never personally made."
His gaze shifted toward the Qinghe report.
"You have."
The networking dinner was held at the top of the Yunhai Hotel.
Cloud City glittered beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, its towers rising above the river like illuminated mountains.
Yaoyao wore a simple dark-blue dress she had purchased with her own money before the system entered her life. It was neither expensive nor fashionable enough to attract attention.
She preferred it that way.
The room was filled with young executives, second-generation heirs, analysts, and entrepreneurs. Conversations moved effortlessly between venture capital, property development, overseas markets, and government policy.
Yaoyao listened more than she spoke.
Listening was often more valuable.
Near the center of the ballroom, a group had gathered around a scale model displaying several riverfront development parcels.
Parcel E-17 sat at the eastern edge.
Small.
Irregularly shaped.
Apparently unimportant.
A young man in a gray suit pointed toward it.
"Anyone who buys E-17 at the expected reserve price is wasting money. The land is too narrow for a major development."
Several people agreed.
"The municipal restrictions make it worse."
"There's barely enough frontage."
"The surrounding parcels are far more valuable."
Yaoyao studied the model.
Lu Group controlled most of those surrounding parcels through subsidiaries.
The public road plan showed only one future access route capable of handling heavy construction traffic.
That route crossed E-17.
"It isn't valuable because of what can be built on it," she said.
The group turned.
The man in gray frowned.
"Then why is it valuable?"
"Because of what cannot be built without it."
Silence spread around the model.
Yaoyao pointed toward the eastern access corridor.
"The surrounding land has excellent development potential, but the existing streets cannot support the projected construction traffic. The municipal plan allows one expanded access route."
Her finger stopped at E-17.
"Whoever controls this parcel controls the most practical entrance to the entire district."
A low voice spoke behind her.
"And if the neighboring owner refuses to negotiate?"
The group shifted aside.
Lu Jingshen stood at the edge of the display.
He wore a black suit with no visible ornament beyond a watch at his wrist. He was younger than Yaoyao had expected, but the stillness around him made the room seem to reorganize itself in his presence.
She recognized him immediately.
Everyone in Cloud City did.
"The neighboring owner would have three choices," Yaoyao answered. "Redesign the project at significant cost, delay construction while seeking another access approval, or negotiate."
"And which would you expect?"
"Negotiation."
"Why?"
"Because powerful companies usually prefer paying a premium to admitting that a smaller asset controls their timeline."
A faint smile touched his mouth.
"So E-17 is leverage."
"It can be."
"Can be?"
"Only if the buyer has enough capital to hold it."
Several people around them exchanged glances.
Lu Jingshen's attention did not move from Yaoyao.
"A weak investor might buy the parcel and be forced to sell before development begins," she continued. "In that case, the land becomes a trap rather than leverage."
"You've studied the financing schedule."
"I studied the municipal notices."
"And the ownership records?"
"Public subsidiaries are still public records."
The smile in his eyes deepened.
"What is your name?"
"Sang Yaoyao."
Recognition flickered across the face of one nearby executive.
"The Xinghe intern?"
Yaoyao ignored him.
Lu Jingshen did not appear surprised.
"I heard about Qinghe Printing."
That caught her off guard.
"It was a small investment."
"Size is not the same as difficulty."
He glanced toward E-17.
"Most people here search for assets everyone already agrees are valuable. You seem more interested in the reason others have overlooked them."
"I'm interested in whether the value is real."
"And if it is?"
"Then I decide whether the risk belongs in my future."
For a moment, the noise of the ballroom seemed distant.
Lu Jingshen reached into his jacket and removed a matte-black business card.
It carried only his name and a private number.
He placed it on the edge of the model between them.
"I rarely give this card away."
Yaoyao looked at it but did not immediately pick it up.
"If one day you believe you've reached the limits of what your current surroundings can teach you, call me."
"Are you offering me a position?"
"No."
His answer came without hesitation.
"I'm offering you a conversation."
He inclined his head slightly.
"Whether it becomes anything more should depend on what you build before then."
Then he turned and walked toward the elevators.
The people around the model watched him leave before their attention returned to Yaoyao.
Some curious.
Some envious.
Some calculating.
She picked up the card.
It was heavier than it looked.
Mochi floated above her shoulder, studying the closing elevator doors.
"Host."
"Yes?"
"You made a dangerous impression tonight."
"On President Lu?"
"On anyone who prefers believing the future can be controlled."
Yaoyao turned the black card between her fingers.
"Do you think I impressed him?"
Mochi gave a tiny laugh.
"I think you did something worse."
"What?"
"You made someone who rarely encounters uncertainty wonder what you might become."
Across the ballroom, the elevator doors nearly closed.
Just before they did, Lu Jingshen looked back.
His gaze found her immediately.
Then the doors met between them.
Elsewhere in Cloud City, Ye Mingyue sat alone in the rear of a parked car.
Sunrise Children's Home stood across the street, its courtyard dim beneath the evening lamps.
The investigator in the driver's seat handed her a thin folder.
"The orphanage records from twenty-one years ago are incomplete."
"Incomplete how?"
"Several intake documents were damaged in a flood. But there was one girl brought in during the correct period."
Ye Mingyue's fingers tightened around the folder.
"Name?"
"Sang Yaoyao."
The air inside the car seemed to disappear.
The investigator continued.
"She was found with no verified family information. Director Chen handled the intake personally."
Ye Mingyue looked through the windshield toward the old building.
Children's laughter drifted faintly from an open window.
"Does she still visit?"
"Yes."
"How often?"
"Regularly."
"And the jade pendant?"
"I haven't confirmed it."
She closed the folder.
"Do not contact the Ye family."
"Miss Ye, if this girl is who you think she is—"
"I said do not contact them."
Her voice was still gentle.
That made the command colder.
The investigator lowered his head.
"Understood."
Ye Mingyue stared at the orphanage for a long time.
For twenty-one years, she had lived inside a home built around the absence of another daughter.
Every celebration had contained a shadow.
Every expression of affection had carried a silent condition.
She had always known that if the missing girl returned, the balance of the Ye family would change.
She had simply believed that day would never come.
Now the name in her hands felt like a crack spreading through glass.
Sang Yaoyao.
System Settlement
Mission: The Value of Time
Status: Completed
Amount Spent: ¥200,000
Evaluation: SSS
Assessment:
Conducted independent due diligence.
Identified a sustainable business with temporary financial distress.
Negotiated fair equity without exploiting the owner's vulnerability.
Protected thirty-six livelihoods.
Established financial safeguards to reduce future risk.
Accepted personal responsibility for an uncertain outcome.
Rewards:
Cash Rebate: ¥860,000
Skill Unlocked: Contract Perception — Beginner
Improves the Host's ability to identify unfair clauses, hidden obligations, unusual liabilities, and contractual inconsistencies.
Additional Evaluation:
The Host did not purchase certainty.
The Host purchased time.
And used judgment to determine whether that time was worth saving.
At seven twenty the next morning, Sang Yaoyao was awakened by a pigeon threatening legal action.
"I saw it first!"
"You landed second!"
"The railing is public property!"
"There is no public property among pigeons!"
Yaoyao opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling.
For three peaceful seconds, she considered pretending she still couldn't understand animals.
Then something struck the window.
Tap.
Tap-tap.
"Human!" one of the pigeons shouted. "Resolve this dispute!"
She pulled the blanket over her head.
"No."
There was a scandalized silence.
Then the second pigeon whispered, "She understands us."
The first whispered back, much louder, "Obviously. She answered."
A tiny round figure rose from the pillow beside her, his white body glowing faintly in the dim room.
Mochi yawned.
"Host, your diplomatic responsibilities are increasing."
"I didn't apply to become the neighborhood animal mediator."
"You accepted a hidden blessing."
"I accepted Animal Language. I didn't accept jurisdiction."
Mochi floated toward the window and peered outside.
The pigeons immediately began arguing at him instead.
Yaoyao sat up, rubbed her face, and checked the time.
Her internship started at nine.
Her university classes were lighter on Mondays, which allowed her to spend most of the day at Xinghe Group. Under normal circumstances, she would have already been mentally preparing for Manager Zhou's criticism, Li Wenhao's smug expressions, and another afternoon of doing work that someone else might claim.
But today, her first thought was different.
Parcel E-17.
Four days and fourteen hours remained on the weekend opportunity mission.
She had uncovered the parcel's hidden value, yet knowing its value and qualifying to bid on it were entirely different things.
The auction required participants to register through an approved legal entity and submit a deposit of two million yuan.
Two million.
Her personal balance, even after the system rewards, was a fraction of that amount.
The black card could not be used outside active spending missions, and the opportunity mission had only instructed her to secure legal eligibility. It had not authorized unlimited spending.
Mochi returned from the window.
"Dispute settled."
"What did you do?"
"I told them the larger pigeon could have the left side of the railing and the louder pigeon could have the right."
"They're both equally loud."
"Then justice has been achieved."
Yaoyao gave him a long look before reaching for her phone.
A new system notification appeared the moment the screen lit.
⸻
Weekday Spending Mission
A Strong Foundation
Objective: Spend ¥200,000 before 8:00 PM.
Conditions:
1. The expenditure must create measurable long-term value.
2. At least one recipient must benefit beyond the Host.
3. Wasteful or deliberately inflated purchases will reduce the final evaluation.
Mission Funds: Unlimited black card access during the active mission.
Potential Rewards:
* Cash rebate
* Business-related asset
* Specialized skill enhancement
* Random opportunity clue
⸻
Yaoyao's sleepiness disappeared.
"Two hundred thousand?"
Mochi nodded cheerfully.
"Your mission amounts increase by a factor of ten."
"I remember the rule. I just hoped the system might forget."
"The system does not forget."
"Convenient."
"For the system."
She reread the conditions.
Long-term value.
Someone other than herself had to benefit.
That immediately ruled out simply buying luxury items. Not that she wanted to.
Her first mission had taught her that spending could solve an immediate problem. Her second had taught her that investing in herself was not selfish.
This mission seemed to ask a harder question.
What could money build?
Yaoyao climbed out of bed.
"I'll think about it on the way to work."
Mochi's eyes curved.
"Excellent."
"You already know what I'm going to choose, don't you?"
"I know what kind of person you are."
"That wasn't my question."
"It was my answer."
⸻
Xinghe Group occupied eighteen floors of a silver office tower in Cloud City's central business district.
The company was respectable, ambitious, and large enough to attract talented graduates, but not powerful enough to compete directly with giants like Lu Group.
For Yaoyao, the internship had once felt like an extraordinary opportunity.
Recently, it had begun to feel more like a test of patience.
She had barely placed her bag beneath her desk when Manager Zhou appeared beside the intern workstations.
He was in his early forties, neatly dressed, and perpetually dissatisfied.
"Sang Yaoyao."
She looked up.
"Yes, Manager Zhou?"
"The market comparison report for the eastern district."
"I submitted it on Friday."
"To my email?"
"And the shared project folder. I also kept a timestamped copy."
His expression tightened almost imperceptibly.
After she had confronted him about allowing Li Wenhao to take credit for her previous work, she had started documenting everything.
Manager Zhou disliked that.
"Revise it."
"Which section?"
"All of it."
Yaoyao remained calm.
"What changes would you like?"
"The analysis lacks depth."
"Could you be more specific?"
Several nearby interns lowered their heads, pretending not to listen.
Manager Zhou's voice cooled.
"A competent employee should be able to identify weaknesses without being hand-held."
Yaoyao met his gaze.
"A competent manager should be able to provide actionable feedback."
Silence spread across the work area.
Li Wenhao, seated two desks away, slowly stopped typing.
Mochi hovered invisibly over Yaoyao's shoulder, clapping both tiny hands over his mouth to suppress delighted laughter.
Manager Zhou's face darkened.
Before he could respond, a woman in a gray suit hurried from the conference corridor.
"Manager Zhou, the supplier representative is here."
He glanced at Yaoyao.
"We'll discuss this later."
"I'll be available."
He walked away without answering.
The moment he disappeared, the intern beside Yaoyao leaned closer.
Her name was Lin Xiaoxiao, a marketing student with round glasses and an expression that revealed every emotion she experienced.
"That was terrifying."
"I asked for clarification."
"You asked for clarification like a lawyer preparing an execution."
Yaoyao opened the report.
"Was I rude?"
"No." Xiaoxiao lowered her voice. "That's why it was terrifying."
Mochi gave Yaoyao an approving thumbs-up.
She ignored him.
A commotion soon rose near the conference rooms.
A man's anxious voice carried across the office.
"Please, give us two more weeks."
Manager Zhou answered sharply.
"We have already given your company three extensions."
"Our equipment failed. We've repaired it now."
"You missed the delivery window. Xinghe cannot risk another delay."
Yaoyao tried to focus on her report, but the conversation continued.
The supplier was a small packaging manufacturer named Qinghe Printing. According to what she overheard, the company had been contracted to produce specialized recyclable packaging for one of Xinghe Group's new retail clients.
Their main cutting machine had broken down.
Without replacement equipment, they could not fulfill the contract.
Without the contract payment, they could not afford the replacement equipment.
A perfect circle of failure.
A few minutes later, the supplier representative emerged from the conference room.
He looked to be in his late fifties. His suit was clean but old, and a plastic folder bulged beneath his arm. He bowed repeatedly to Manager Zhou.
"Please reconsider. More than thirty workers depend on this order."
Manager Zhou's expression remained impatient.
"That is not Xinghe's responsibility."
The man's shoulders lowered.
He turned, and several documents slipped from his folder.
Yaoyao stood and helped gather them.
"Thank you," he said quietly.
One page showed a quotation for a digital die-cutting machine.
Price: ¥168,000.
Another showed payroll records.
Thirty-two employees.
A third was a contract penalty notice from Xinghe Group.
Yaoyao hesitated.
"Mr....?"
"Zhao. Zhao Decheng."
"Is the machine the only thing preventing production?"
He gave a tired laugh.
"The machine, installation, and enough material to restart the line. So, no. But it is the largest problem."
"How much would everything cost?"
Manager Zhou, still nearby, frowned.
"Sang Yaoyao, return to your desk."
She looked at him.
"I'm asking a question."
"This has nothing to do with you."
Perhaps it didn't.
At least, not yet.
Mochi drifted beside the quotation and tapped it.
Long-term value.
At least one recipient beyond the host.
Yaoyao looked back at Zhao Decheng.
"How much?"
He seemed confused but answered.
"About two hundred thousand yuan. Perhaps slightly less."
The exact mission amount.
Mochi's smile widened.
Manager Zhou gave a humorless laugh.
"What are you planning to do, student? Offer business advice?"
Yaoyao ignored him.
"Would the new machine allow you to complete Xinghe's order on time?"
"If installation begins today, we could restart production by tomorrow evening. We would still need Xinghe to grant a short extension."
"And after this order?"
Zhao straightened slightly.
"The machine is more efficient. It would let us accept larger contracts and reduce waste by nearly twenty percent."
"Do you own the factory?"
"My wife and I own sixty percent. The remaining shares belong to two longtime employees."
"Do you have outstanding secured debt?"
He blinked.
"No secured debt. Only a small working-capital loan."
Manager Zhou's irritation sharpened.
"This conversation is over."
Yaoyao turned to him.
"Would Xinghe withdraw the contract termination if Qinghe Printing proves it can resume production tomorrow?"
"That decision is above your position."
"Then who can make it?"
Manager Zhou stared at her.
Before he answered, a composed female voice came from behind him.
"I can."
Everyone turned.
Deputy Director Han Meilin stood at the entrance to the conference corridor.
She headed Xinghe Group's strategic procurement division and was one of the youngest senior executives in the company.
Unlike Manager Zhou, she rarely raised her voice.
She did not need to.
"Deputy Director Han," Manager Zhou said quickly. "This is only a supplier dispute. I was handling it."
"I heard."
Her gaze moved from him to Yaoyao, then to the documents in Zhao Decheng's hands.
"Sang Yaoyao, what are you proposing?"
Yaoyao had no complete plan.
But she had learned something in the planning archive.
Sometimes value was hidden inside a bottleneck.
Qinghe Printing's problem was not its workforce, product, or contract.
It was one broken machine.
Remove the bottleneck, and the entire business could move again.
"I would like twenty minutes to review Qinghe Printing's financial records and production data."
Manager Zhou looked incredulous.
"For what purpose?"
"To decide whether the company is worth investing in."
Lin Xiaoxiao dropped her pen.
Zhao Decheng stared at Yaoyao as though she had spoken another language.
Deputy Director Han's expression did not change, but interest entered her eyes.
"You?"
"Yes."
"With whose money?"
"My own."
Technically, that was not quite true.
The black card belonged to the system.
But the decision would belong to her.
Manager Zhou laughed.
It was the wrong reaction.
Han Meilin glanced at him, and he immediately stopped.
She looked at Zhao Decheng.
"Are you willing to provide the records?"
He swallowed.
"Yes."
"Then use Conference Room Six."
⸻
Twenty minutes became forty-five.
Yaoyao reviewed bank statements, invoices, client lists, production schedules, and employee records.
Qinghe Printing was not a glamorous company.
Its margins were modest.
Its growth had stalled.
Its website looked as though it had not been updated in seven years.
But the company had retained nearly eighty percent of its clients for more than a decade. Its employees had low turnover. It had no history of default, no inflated executive salaries, and no suspicious related-party transactions.
The owners had even used their own savings to cover wages during the equipment failure.
It was not a failing business.
It was a stable business trapped by one bad month.
"What are you asking for in exchange?" Zhao Decheng said.
Yaoyao closed the final folder.
"Ten percent of the company."
He inhaled sharply.
"For two hundred thousand?"
"Not exactly."
She turned her laptop toward him.
"I would provide two hundred thousand yuan as a capital investment. One hundred sixty-eight thousand would purchase the equipment. The remainder would cover installation and raw materials."
She pointed to a second section.
"In exchange, I receive ten percent equity, quarterly financial reports, and observer rights at shareholder meetings."
"You would not interfere with operations?"
"Not unless the company takes on major debt, sells significant assets, or changes ownership."
Zhao stared at the proposal.
The valuation was fair—perhaps even favorable to him, considering the urgency of his situation.
Still, he hesitated.
"Why?"
It was the same question Lu Jingshen had asked in his office the previous night, though Yaoyao did not know it.
Why would someone with limited resources look at E-17?
Why would a university student invest in an unfashionable printing company?
Yaoyao answered simply.
"Because your company's problem can be fixed."
Zhao's eyes reddened.
He looked down before anyone could notice.
"I need to call my wife and the other shareholders."
"Of course."
Deputy Director Han, who had remained for most of the review, spoke from the far end of the table.
"If Qinghe Printing installs the machine today and provides a verified production schedule, Xinghe will extend the deadline by five business days."
Manager Zhou opened his mouth.
Han Meilin looked at him.
He closed it again.
Zhao stood so quickly his chair nearly toppled.
"Thank you. Thank you both."
"Don't thank me yet," Yaoyao said. "Read the agreement carefully."
Mochi floated above the table, nodding solemnly.
"My host is responsible."
Then he produced a tiny imaginary stamp and pressed it onto the air.
"Also terrifying."
⸻
At eleven fifty-three, the shareholders agreed.
At twelve twenty, a lawyer reviewed the investment contract.
At one fifteen, Sang Yaoyao signed her first equity agreement.
The moment she authorized payment with the black card, the system chimed.
⸻
Mission Progress
Amount Spent: ¥200,000 / ¥200,000
Long-Term Value Assessment: Excellent
External Beneficiaries Identified: 36
Mission Completed
Final evaluation pending.
⸻
Yaoyao stared at the number.
Thirty-six.
Thirty-two employees, four shareholders.
Thirty-six people whose immediate futures had become a little more secure because one machine would arrive that afternoon.
The realization felt different from buying a laptop.
Heavier.
Warmer.
She had not donated money.
She had invested it.
If Qinghe Printing succeeded, she would profit. So would the owners. So would the workers.
Value did not always have to move in only one direction.
Mochi landed on her shoulder.
"You understand now."
"I think I'm beginning to."
"Money can purchase objects."
He looked toward Zhao Decheng, who was calling the equipment vendor with shaking hands.
"But capital can purchase time."
Time to recover.
Time to fulfill a promise.
Time to avoid losing everything built over decades.
Yaoyao smiled faintly.
"And sometimes ownership."
Mochi beamed.
"Very good."
⸻
Across Cloud City, Xu Chen placed a new report on Lu Jingshen's desk.
"She invested in a printing company."
Lu Jingshen looked up from a riverfront engineering plan.
"When?"
"This afternoon."
"How much?"
"Two hundred thousand yuan for ten percent."
"Reason?"
"The company's primary equipment failed. It was at risk of losing a major contract."
Lu Jingshen took the report.
Xu Chen continued.
"Qinghe Printing is small, but its financial records are clean. Stable client retention. Low debt. Experienced workforce. The investment appears rational."
"Who introduced her?"
"No one."
Lu Jingshen's gaze sharpened.
"She discovered the opportunity during her internship."
"Then negotiated the transaction herself?"
"Yes."
"Legal counsel?"
"She hired an independent lawyer before signing."
A trace of approval crossed Lu Jingshen's face.
Not excitement.
Not surprise.
Recognition.
A person could accidentally discover one valuable clue.
Two suggested a pattern.
"She identifies bottlenecks," he said.
Xu Chen nodded.
"That was also our assessment."
"E-17 controls movement between developments. Qinghe's machine controls production. In both cases, she ignored the visible asset and found the point everything else depended on."
He set the report down.
"What does Xinghe think of her?"
"That depends whom you ask."
"Ask the right person."
"Deputy Director Han Meilin has spoken positively about her. Her direct manager has not."
"Why?"
"Sang Yaoyao previously challenged him after another intern received credit for her work."
Lu Jingshen's expression cooled.
"Was she correct?"
"Yes."
"Then her manager's opinion is irrelevant."
Xu Chen had expected that answer.
"There is also the matter of tonight's Young Investors Networking Dinner."
Lu Jingshen returned his attention to the engineering plan.
"What about it?"
"The university association added Sang Yaoyao to the guest list."
His hand stopped.
"Who invited her?"
"Chen Zhiming. The speaker from the Young Investors Forum. He reviewed her written analysis from last week and recommended her for a student seat."
Lu Jingshen was silent for several seconds.
He had declined the dinner twice.
Such events were usually filled with people eager to exchange cards, exaggerate achievements, and ask for favors.
Now, however, the evening seemed marginally less predictable.
"Adjust my schedule."
Xu Chen's eyebrows moved a fraction.
"You're attending?"
"For thirty minutes."
"Of course."
"And Xu Chen?"
"Yes?"
"Do not approach her."
Xu Chen paused.
"You want to observe her first."
"I want to know whether she behaves differently when she thinks no one important is watching."
⸻
At the Ye estate, someone else was also conducting an investigation.
Ye Mingyue sat in the rear corner of a quiet tea house, a silk scarf covering part of her face despite the warm weather.
The man across from her wore an inexpensive jacket and carried no visible identification.
"You want information on Sunrise Children's Home," he said.
"From twenty-one years ago."
"That will cost more."
"I'm not concerned about the cost."
"What exactly am I looking for?"
Ye Mingyue's fingers tightened around her teacup.
"A girl."
"Name?"
"I don't know what name she uses now."
"Then give me the one she used then."
Mingyue looked toward the window.
Outside, cars moved through the rain-damp street.
When she spoke, her voice was low.
"She may have been called Yaoyao."
The investigator wrote it down.
"Family name?"
"I said I don't know."
"Photograph?"
"No."
"Birth date?"
"Approximately twenty-one years ago."
He stopped writing.
"That describes thousands of people."
"Then start with the orphanage records. Former directors. Long-term employees. Donations. Anyone connected to the Ye family."
The man studied her.
"Does the Ye family know you hired me?"
Her gaze turned cold.
"You are being paid not to ask that question."
He leaned back.
"I'll need an advance."
She slid an envelope across the table.
Neither of them noticed the gray-haired waiter standing behind the decorative screen.
He had not heard everything.
Only two phrases.
Sunrise Children's Home.
The Ye family.
But sometimes two phrases were enough to awaken an old memory.
⸻
Yaoyao did not learn about the dinner until five thirty.
She had just finished revising the eastern district report when Lin Xiaoxiao appeared beside her holding a thick black envelope.
"This came through internal mail."
"My name is on it?"
"In gold."
"That sounds excessive."
"It sounds expensive."
The envelope bore the seal of the Cloud City Young Investors Association.
Inside was a formal invitation.
⸻
Ms. Sang Yaoyao,
You are cordially invited to attend the Cloud City Young Investors Networking Dinner this evening at the Luming Hotel.
Your analysis submitted during the recent Young Investors Forum was selected for special recognition.
Formal attire requested.
Admission begins at 7:00 PM.
⸻
Yaoyao checked the time.
One hour and twenty-five minutes.
"I don't own formal attire."
Xiaoxiao looked horrified.
"That is your concern?"
"It is the most immediate concern."
"You've been invited to the Luming Hotel."
"I can read."
"Senior investors attend that dinner. Founders. Executives. People whose business cards have weight."
"Paper weight?"
"Social weight."
Mochi appeared beside the invitation.
A golden screen materialized.
⸻
Weekend Opportunity Mission Update
Opportunity Doesn't Wait
Progress: 42%
New Objective Identified:
Attend the Young Investors Networking Dinner.
Opportunity Clue:
The shortest road past an impossible gate may begin with a conversation.
⸻
Yaoyao narrowed her eyes at Mochi.
"You knew."
"I suspected."
"You said tomorrow."
"It is now tomorrow."
"That is technically true and emotionally dishonest."
"Thank you."
"That wasn't praise."
"I accept it anyway."
Lin Xiaoxiao was watching Yaoyao stare at empty air.
"Are you all right?"
"Yes."
"You look like you're arguing with a ghost."
"Something like that."
Mochi gasped.
"I am a distinguished system spirit."
Yaoyao folded the invitation.
"I'll attend."
Xiaoxiao clapped once.
"Good. Now we have to solve your clothing problem."
"We?"
"You cannot meet Cloud City's investment elite dressed like you're presenting a group project."
"I am wearing office clothes."
"Exactly."
⸻
At six twenty, Yaoyao stood inside a department store fitting room wearing a dark green dress she would never have selected for herself.
It was elegant without being extravagant.
Long sleeves.
A modest neckline.
A fitted waist and flowing skirt that reached below her knees.
Lin Xiaoxiao circled her critically.
"You look expensive."
"I'm not sure that should be the goal."
"You look intelligent and expensive."
"Better."
Mochi sat on the mirror's frame, swinging his feet.
"Buy it."
Yaoyao checked the price tag and nearly returned it to the rack.
"It costs more than my monthly rent."
"Your mission is complete," Mochi reminded her. "This purchase would use your personal funds."
"That is not persuasive."
Xiaoxiao selected a pair of simple black heels.
"Think of it as professional equipment."
"That is what I said about the laptop."
"And you were right."
Yaoyao looked at herself in the mirror.
For years, every purchase had been measured against the same question:
How many days of security does this money represent?
Rent.
Food.
Tuition.
Her future home.
Even now, with more money in her account than she had ever expected to possess, the old instinct remained.
Save.
Prepare.
Do not assume tomorrow will be kind.
But another truth had begun to form beside it.
Some doors required appropriate armor.
She purchased the dress.
Not because it made her look wealthy.
Because it allowed her to enter the room without apologizing for being there.
⸻
The Luming Hotel occupied the upper floors of a glass tower overlooking the river.
By the time Yaoyao arrived, the lobby glittered with chandeliers, polished stone, and people who seemed entirely accustomed to being welcomed everywhere.
She handed over her invitation.
The attendant checked the guest list.
"Ms. Sang Yaoyao. Welcome."
No hesitation.
No question about whether she belonged.
Just welcome.
The ballroom doors opened.
Warm light spilled across white tablecloths, crystal glasses, and clusters of elegantly dressed guests.
Yaoyao stepped inside.
Mochi floated close to her ear.
"Nervous?"
"Yes."
"Excellent."
She glanced at him.
"How is that excellent?"
"Courage is not the absence of nervousness."
"You read that somewhere."
"I improve everything I read."
Before she could answer, a familiar voice called her name.
"Sang Yaoyao."
Chen Zhiming approached with a smile. He was the investment analyst who had spoken at the university forum and first introduced Parcel E-17.
"I'm glad you came."
"Thank you for the invitation."
"You earned it. Your written analysis was one of the few that treated city planning as a network rather than a collection of individual projects."
Yaoyao paused.
"You read the full paper?"
"Twice."
Across the ballroom, a man in a black suit entered through a private side door.
Conversation shifted almost instantly.
People straightened.
Several guests began moving toward him.
Lu Jingshen acknowledged them with brief nods, his expression calm and distant.
He had planned to remain for thirty minutes.
Then he saw Sang Yaoyao.
Dark green dress.
Minimal jewelry.
No crowd around her.
She was listening to Chen Zhiming with complete attention, apparently unaware that half the ballroom had just reacted to Lu Jingshen's arrival.
Xu Chen stood a step behind him.
"That's her."
"I know."
"You recognize her from the file?"
Lu Jingshen watched as a server carrying a tray nearly collided with an elderly guest. Yaoyao reached out, steadied the tray, and continued her conversation without waiting for thanks.
"No," he said.
Xu Chen looked at him.
Lu Jingshen's gaze remained on her.
"She looks exactly like someone who would spend three hours reading municipal utility plans."
For the first time that evening, Xu Chen nearly smiled.
⸻
The dinner began with a panel discussion on Cloud City's eastern expansion.
Yaoyao was seated at a table with analysts, junior executives, and two second-generation heirs who spent more time describing their family connections than discussing investments.
Onstage, a developer presented a familiar argument.
Parcel E-17 was speculative.
Its irregular shape limited construction.
Its immediate commercial value was low.
One of the heirs at Yaoyao's table nodded confidently.
"Anyone who pays more than twelve million is buying a headache."
Another laughed.
"Unless the government changes the zoning."
Yaoyao looked down at the printed map beside her plate.
The developer had omitted the future transportation overlays.
Perhaps deliberately.
Perhaps because he had not found them.
A man seated across from her noticed her expression.
He wore a perfectly tailored black suit and no visible expression of impatience, though everyone else at the table seemed unusually aware of him.
She had seen his face in business articles.
Lu Jingshen.
The man behind the surrounding property acquisitions.
The giant Mochi had mentioned.
He had joined the table without introduction during the panel transition, and no one had dared resume their earlier boasting.
His gaze settled on the map.
"You disagree?"
Every person at the table turned toward Yaoyao.
She could have softened her answer.
Pretended uncertainty.
Said she was only a student.
Instead, she remembered the corridor.
"The presenter is evaluating the parcel as a building site."
Lu Jingshen's eyes remained on her.
"And you wouldn't?"
"No."
"Why?"
"Because its most valuable feature is not what can be built on it."
The heir beside her frowned.
"Then what is?"
Yaoyao placed one finger at the northern edge of the map.
"The planned high-speed rail district."
Then the western edge.
"The proposed financial expansion zone."
Then the southern connection.
"The old warehouse redevelopment area."
She drew an invisible line between them.
"All three require practical access through this corridor. The alternative routes would require bridge expansion, utility relocation, and multiple property acquisitions."
The table had become completely silent.
Yaoyao continued.
"Parcel E-17 is too narrow for a major complex, but wide enough to control the most efficient road and service connection between three future districts."
One of the analysts leaned forward.
"So the owner could negotiate access rights."
"Or develop the access infrastructure directly," Yaoyao said. "Roads, utility passages, logistics entry, emergency routes. The parcel is not the destination."
She looked at Lu Jingshen.
"It is the door."
Something changed in his eyes.
Not surprise.
Confirmation.
"How much is a door worth?" he asked.
"That depends."
"On?"
"Who owns the rooms behind it."
A faint curve appeared at the corner of his mouth.
Around them, several guests looked as though they had forgotten how to breathe.
Yaoyao realized belatedly that she had just explained Lu Group's seven-year strategy to Lu Jingshen himself.
Mochi floated beside her shoulder, looking delighted.
"You found the giant."
Yaoyao kept her expression composed.
Lu Jingshen leaned back.
"And if the owner of the surrounding land already controlled most of those rooms?"
"Then E-17 would be worth far more to that owner than to anyone else."
"Would you bid against them?"
"Yes."
The answer came so quickly that Xu Chen, standing near the wall, lifted his gaze.
Lu Jingshen studied her.
"Even knowing they could outspend you?"
"If I believed they needed the land more than I did."
The second-generation heir gave a disbelieving laugh.
"That sounds reckless."
Yaoyao turned to him.
"Only if the goal is to win the land."
Lu Jingshen's expression sharpened with interest.
"What else could the goal be?"
"To understand how much the other party is willing to reveal."
The laughter vanished.
Yaoyao looked back at the map.
"A bidder does not always need to win. Sometimes forcing a competitor to show their valuation, urgency, or strategy creates value elsewhere."
The table remained silent.
Then Lu Jingshen asked, "And where would you create that value?"
"I would need more information before answering."
"No speculation?"
"Speculation is useful when it is labeled honestly. Pretending certainty without evidence is not."
For a moment, the ballroom seemed to recede around them.
Lu Jingshen had spent years surrounded by people who offered answers too quickly.
People who believed confidence could substitute for thought.
Sang Yaoyao did the opposite.
She spoke firmly when she knew.
She stopped when she did not.
That restraint interested him more than any polished presentation could have.
The panel moderator called for the next speaker.
Conversation at the table slowly resumed, but Lu Jingshen did not look away.
"Ms. Sang."
She met his gaze.
"How did you find the transportation corridor?"
"Public records."
"Most people have access to those records."
"Most people search for confirmation of what they already believe."
"And you?"
"I search for the part that makes the obvious explanation incomplete."
Mochi's mouth fell open.
"That was excellent."
Yaoyao ignored him, though she privately agreed.
Lu Jingshen reached into his jacket and placed a business card on the table.
It contained only his name, title, and direct office number.
No assistant line.
No general contact address.
Several people at the table stared at it.
"I have a question for you," he said.
Yaoyao glanced at the card but did not touch it yet.
"What question?"
"Miss Sang..."
His voice was quiet, but every person nearby heard it.
"Would you consider working with Lu Group?"
For the first time that evening, Sang Yaoyao had no immediate answer.
At that exact moment, a golden notification exploded before her eyes.
⸻
Weekend Opportunity Mission Updated
Opportunity Doesn't Wait
Progress: 78%
Critical Path Discovered
The impossible entry fee may not require your money.
New Objective:
Obtain legal auction participation through a recognized business entity.
Time Remaining: 3 Days, 9 Hours
⸻
Mochi slowly turned toward Lu Jingshen.
Then toward Yaoyao.
His tiny face became unbearably smug.
"The giant," he whispered, "has opened the door."
⸻
System Settlement
Mission: A Strong Foundation
Amount Spent: ¥200,000
Final Evaluation: SSS
Evaluation Summary:
* Identified a viable business constrained by a correctable bottleneck
* Protected thirty-six stakeholders from immediate financial loss
* Negotiated fair equity rather than exploiting urgency
* Created long-term value for both Host and recipients
* Demonstrated independent investment judgment
Rewards:
1. Cash Rebate: 12×
¥2,400,000 deposited
2. Skill Unlocked: Contract Perception – Beginner
Improves the Host's ability to recognize hidden risk, unfair terms, and unusual obligations in legal agreements.
3. Business Asset Reward Pending
Reward will be determined by the outcome of the current opportunity mission.
⸻
Yaoyao looked at Lu Jingshen's business card.
Then at the mission window.
Then back at the man who controlled nearly every property surrounding Parcel E-17.
The system had placed two million four hundred thousand yuan into her account.
Enough to cover the auction deposit.
But money was not the only obstacle.
She still needed an eligible company.
And Lu Jingshen, whether he knew it or not, had just offered her access to the most powerful one in Cloud City.
She finally picked up his card.
"I would consider a conversation," she said.
Lu Jingshen's faint smile returned.
"Good."
He rose from the table.
"My assistant will contact you tomorrow."
Yaoyao looked up at him.
"I haven't agreed to work for you."
"No."
His gaze briefly settled on the auction map between them.
"But you have agreed to listen."
He walked away, Xu Chen following behind him.
Only after he disappeared into the crowd did the table breathe again.
The heir beside Yaoyao stared at her.
"Do you know what just happened?"
Yaoyao looked at the black card in her hand.
"Yes."
Mochi floated in front of her, grinning from one round cheek to the other.
She corrected herself.
"No."
Not entirely.
Because across the ballroom, Lu Jingshen paused before the exit and glanced back once.
He had come to determine whether Sang Yaoyao's intelligence was genuine.
He left with a different question.
What would happen if someone like her were given enough resources to stop standing outside doors—
and begin choosing which ones the rest of Cloud City was allowed to enter?