Start by Spending One Billion [Entertainment Industry]-Chapter 59

After Ning Zhou said "you're welcome," there was nothing more.

In his understanding, that marked the end of the conversation.

The young man continued walking in silence, each step measured with precision, tracing a perfectly straight line.

Sheng Quan stroked the fat cat’s head, watching his figure gradually recede into the distance.

When turning the corner, Ning Zhou glanced subtly at Sheng Quan before quickly averting his gaze.

Jiang Lu, standing behind her, also looked over briefly before withdrawing his attention, as usual offering no comment.

Sheng Quan’s presence here was no coincidence—there weren’t that many serendipitous encounters in the world.

She had heard from Teacher Wang that Ning Zhou’s lab was in this area, so she wandered over, hoping to bump into him.

After all, it was almost lunchtime, and the cafeteria was just ahead. Even a genius like Ning Zhou might step out for a meal, right?

Even if he didn’t appear, basking in the sunlight on C University’s lush lawn was pleasant enough.

After nearly half an hour of sunbathing, she actually did spot Ning Zhou.

And she even witnessed the standoff between him and the fat cat—ten minutes of silent confrontation before Sheng Quan finally caved and bought a cat treat from the convenience store.

—The fat cat emerged as the ultimate winner.

Sheng Quan met Ning Zhou’s advisor that very same day.

These past few days had been filled with more professor introductions than she’d ever experienced. Almost daily, advisors came by, eager to recommend their students—some, like Professor Li Jun, got straight to the point, while others dropped only a hint or two.

Though they secretly hoped Sheng Quan would take one look at their students’ projects and immediately declare them brilliant, slamming the table with a resounding "I’ll fund it!"

But ​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‍they knew better. Their real goal was simply to leave an impression, ensuring the big boss remembered their students or projects with some interest.

Ning Zhou’s advisor had a different request.

His sole purpose: to ensure the boss wouldn’t exclude Ning Zhou from fair competition because of his condition.

Professor Li Jun was well-known even beyond campus.

As a prominent advisor, he was well-versed in the art of securing funding for his students. Not only did he personally deliver the materials, but he also launched into a stream of technical jargon, singing praises.

Of course, he knew Sheng Quan, a non-specialist, likely wouldn’t understand—but years of experience had taught him that corporate bosses ate this stuff up.

They didn’t need to comprehend it; they just needed to hear it sound impressive.

After the highbrow pitch, Professor Li Jun circled back with a simpler explanation.

Then came the accolades for Ning Zhou—his sky-high IQ, his stellar academic record, his terrifying talent.

Finally, he handed over Ning Zhou’s diagnostic report.

The moment Sheng Quan saw the words "Asperger’s Syndrome," everything clicked.

Her brief interaction with Ning Zhou had already hinted at why, in the original story, such a genius had been forced to cut corners with subpar materials just to keep his project afloat.

Securing substantial research funding was tough for students, but for prodigies, it shouldn’t have been this dire. In today’s environment, they might not strike gold overnight, but they shouldn’t be struggling to the point of compromising their health.

Research grants could be applied for through the university or via corporate partnerships, and advisors usually helped facilitate this.

Even for challenging projects, there should’ve been some funding source.

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Unless… they believed Ning Zhou couldn’t be trusted to manage it.

Maybe they’d considered the "what if," but when faced with a major financial commitment, no one was willing to gamble on that uncertainty—especially when Ning Zhou hadn’t yet produced any groundbreaking results.

Professor Li Jun clearly understood this. Ning Zhou still had some university support thanks to his student status and his advisor’s backing.

But corporate partnerships? The moment they learned of his condition, interest evaporated.

So while he’d confidently assured Ning Zhou, facing Sheng Quan, he had zero confidence.

Outwardly composed, inwardly anxious, he stole a glance at her—but found none of the usual wariness on the young boss’s face.

Sheng Quan finished reading the report.

Without dragging it out or demanding to "meet Ning Zhou first," she set the papers down and agreed outright.

"I’m very interested in this project. Funding won’t be an issue. The timeline… while lengthy, is understandable—it’s research, after all. Though there are some details to iron out."

Professor Li Jun: "…"

He froze for two full seconds before it hit him.

She was saying yes?

This project’s estimated budget was five million.

Five. Million. Even he hadn’t secured that much funding for his own projects so effortlessly.

Yet to Sheng Quan, it was just "no problem."

Professor Li Jun was usually unflappable—unless his student just landed five million in research funding.

Overwhelming joy nearly drowned him. This was better than securing the funds himself.

"Name your terms. We’ll accommodate however we can."

Such collaborations always came with conditions, and he was prepared.

That was normal—corporations didn’t fund university research out of charity. They wanted commercially viable results.

He’d already decided: whatever Sheng Quan asked, if it was feasible, they’d do it.

Even if Ning Zhou couldn’t manage certain tasks, he’d step in.

What were advisors for, if not to help their students?

Sheng Quan smiled. "I have a film in pre-production that may require technical input from Ning Zhou’s lab. It tangentially relates to his research."

She handed Professor Li Jun the production’s materials.

"The movie involves futuristic tech. While most will be CGI, we need some physical props for authenticity—preferably from Ning Zhou’s lab."

Li Jun skimmed the documents, eyebrows lifting.

Of course. No free lunch. Even braced for demands, the sheer volume of additional requests was staggering.

Was this a movie set or a futuristic city construction?

Five million wouldn’t come easy. Agreeing to all this would still leave Ning Zhou scrimping to keep his main project alive.

Hesitantly, he probed:

"If we want to achieve all the effects described above, a budget of five million is very likely insufficient."

Of course, this was said while calculating how to persuade Sheng Quan to increase the funding.

At the very least, an extra five hundred thousand would be ideal.

If that wasn’t possible, even three hundred thousand more would do. After all, it wasn’t easy to come across such a generous investor, even if the accompanying conditions were a bit demanding. He couldn’t let this opportunity slip away.

Just as he was organizing his words, Sheng Quan, sitting across from him, responded, "You might have misunderstood. The budget I plan to allocate for this project isn’t five million."

Li Jun: "…"

What did she mean, it wasn’t five million? The project proposal clearly stated an estimated cost of five million.

He had distinctly heard Sheng Quan say funding wouldn’t be an issue!

How could she go back on her word now?

If it were just the main project, fine, but with so many additional requirements, even if Ning Zhou was still a student, you couldn’t exploit him like this. He was smart, a genius—but not a god!

Li Jun frantically reminded himself in his head: This is the only investor willing to back our student. Others can afford to be picky, but we only have this one chance. Stay calm, don’t mess this up.

After steadying himself, he carefully rephrased his words:

"I think I should explain—these additional tasks are far too numerous and complex, covering a very broad scope. Even if I were to take them on myself, the difficulty would be immense. Five million is already stretching it."

At this point, he wasn’t even asking for more money.

Just don’t reduce it!

"Exactly," Sheng Quan agreed, nodding—not to bargain, as he’d expected, but with genuine understanding.

"With such a long project cycle, five million is indeed too tight. So, I plan to invest fifty million upfront."

Li Jun: "…"

How… how much?!

Fifty million?!!!!!!!!

Despite his lifelong composure, he could feel his body trembling with excitement.

But Professor Li Jun was, after all, a renowned mentor at C University. Even at this critical moment, he remembered the rumors that the "big boss had returned from abroad." Suppressing the shake in his voice, he asked:

"That’s… fifty million RMB?"

"Of course. It’ll all be written into the contract," Sheng Quan replied with a smile, then suddenly remembered something. "Ah, you mentioned earlier that the additional tasks are too difficult? And too numerous? Is there any way to overcome that? Our production team really needs them all—it’s hard to choose which to drop."

"Yes! Absolutely!"

"We won’t abandon a single one!"

Professor Li Jun answered with lightning speed. If the situation allowed, he would’ve gladly grafted eight extra arms onto Ning Zhou to prove his student could handle it all.

"He can start the project immediately. I guarantee the team won’t have fewer than fifty members."

With fifty million in funding, even five hundred people wouldn’t be a problem for Li Jun to assemble. As for Ning Zhou’s inability to communicate well with the team?

At C University, where everyone was a funding-hungry workaholic, fifty million was enough to make them all see stars.

So what if the project leader had zero social skills and zero emotional intelligence?

Was that more important than fifty million?!!

No!

Even funding exceeding ten million would have students across the country scrambling to join.

If the leader were a fat cat, these adaptable university students would still cheerfully praise it without batting an eye:

Fat cat is great! Fat cat is amazing! Fat cat, we salute your hard work!

The sudden turn of events, the unexpected breakthrough—every problem dissolved instantly in the face of fifty million.

Li Jun no longer had to worry about his most talented student being held back by the limitations of his congenital condition.

He was already envisioning Ning Zhou diving into research, achieving groundbreaking results, soaring to new heights, being recruited by national departments, and dedicating his brilliance to serving the country.

Sheng Quan’s vision wasn’t far off, though hers was even more imaginative.

While she didn’t understand the technicalities, based on the timeline in the novel, Ning Zhou had earned such high praise from experts after just two years of national service—treated like a priceless treasure—which meant he must’ve accomplished something extraordinary.

If he could achieve so much in two years, now that he hadn’t even officially started his project and his health hadn’t deteriorated, wouldn’t he—unhindered by premature setbacks—surprise everyone even more?

Maybe, in her lifetime, she’d get to experience the kind of futuristic, tech-driven life described in novels.

Just imagining it made Sheng Quan giddy with excitement.

Of course, the immediate priority was ensuring Ning Zhou’s health. In hindsight, winning that Aihe Hospital membership had been incredibly useful.

At a glance, Ning Zhou’s condition didn’t seem much better.

Sheng Quan checked the time on her phone.

"If Ning Zhou has no objections, we can sign the contract now. But it’s getting late—has he already gone to bed? Should we wait until tomorrow?"

Li Jun answered instantly: "He’s not asleep! Definitely not. I’ll bring him here right away. Just wait a moment—I’ll fetch Ning Zhou immediately."

Even if Ning Zhou were asleep, Li Jun would drag him out of bed to sign the contract first.

If he didn’t see this golden opportunity secured, he’d be lying awake all night!

True to his reputation, Teacher Li moved with lightning speed and soon returned with Ning Zhou in tow.

When Ning Zhou followed Li Jun into the room, his gaze immediately landed on Sheng Quan, seated on the sofa.

He showed no surprise at his teacher’s respectful address, nor did he react like others who’d been taken aback by Sheng Quan’s youth upon learning she was the big boss.

Ning Zhou did desperately want that fifty million in funding.

But after sitting across from Sheng Quan, he still asked earnestly:

"Now that you’ve seen me, do you still agree to work with me?"

Li Jun, who had just cheerfully taken a seat beside Teacher Wang and the others: "…"

He knew it wasn’t Ning Zhou’s fault—the concept of "sign the contract before they change their mind" simply didn’t register with him.

The question was purely an expression of doubt.

Fortunately, Chairwoman Sheng showed no intention of withdrawing her offer. She picked up the documents on the table and waved them at Ning Zhou.

"First, I have great faith in your project. I believe you’re a genius."

"Second, why would you think I’d refuse to collaborate after meeting you?"

When praised, Ning Zhou’s lashes—thicker than most boys his age—fluttered slightly.

He liked being called a genius because, in his experience, once people labeled him as one, they no longer got upset over his words or actions.

But this "genius effect" had faded after he entered university. Especially when he spent years fixated on a single theoretical concept.

Ning Zhou answered honestly:

"Today, you saw me walk."

Li Jun was terrified that something might go wrong. His heart nearly stopped when he heard this: "What do you mean, walking? Have you encountered this before?"

Ning Zhou wasn’t one to lie. When his teacher asked, he obediently replied, "At noon, when I was going back to the dorm, a cat blocked my way. She saw it."

Li Jun: "..."

His heart really was about to give out.

As the person most familiar with Ning Zhou in the entire school, he knew exactly what Ning Zhou was talking about.

Ning Zhou had encountered situations like this many times before.

Sometimes it was a cat, sometimes a bird, and sometimes even a branch blown by the wind—something that could easily be stepped over—would block his usual path.

To ordinary people, it was nothing worth mentioning, but for Ning Zhou, who was accustomed to walking the same route every day, it felt like an insurmountable chasm.

Every time, his reaction was the same as during the day: either spend an agonizingly long time mustering the courage to cross, or wait for the obstacle to move on its own.

To others, this behavior of his was nothing short of bizarre.

Even though Sheng Quan already knew about Ning Zhou’s condition, now that she had witnessed it, would she think, "If he can’t even walk properly, how can he be trusted with serious research?"

Would the contract still be signed?!

Li Jun didn’t even dare to think about it.

Just as he was wishing he could go back in time to erase the entire incident, Sheng Quan moved.

She picked up the pen and signed her name on the contract, stroke by stroke.

At that moment, the heavy stone weighing on the hearts of all the teachers in the room finally dropped.

Compared to their emotional rollercoaster, the two people directly involved were the calmest of all.

Ning Zhou simply didn’t understand what was happening.

Sheng Quan simply didn’t care.

While Teacher Li was busy gathering people, she had quickly looked it up on Baidu and learned that when speaking to someone with "genius syndrome," it was best to be direct (otherwise, they wouldn’t understand). After signing her name, she looked straight at Ning Zhou.

"Can you complete this project within five years?"

Ning Zhou didn’t hesitate for even a second. When it came to his field of expertise, his gaze instantly became unwavering, as if he had transformed from a timid stray cat into a radiant tiger in the blink of an eye.

He even met Sheng Quan’s eyes directly, his dark, clear pupils filled with determination:

"I can."

"Good. I believe in you."

Hearing Sheng Quan’s equally firm response, Ning Zhou froze.

She said… she believed in him?

It wasn’t an exaggeration to say that his entire being seemed to light up. But the moment he got excited, his speech stumbled again. The tiger-like aura lasted only about ten seconds before deflating.

Still, his eyes remained bright, like a stray cat that had always been shunned suddenly realizing it could beg for food—so happy it couldn’t hide it.

"Th-thank you."

So happy he even stuttered a little.

Damn, that’s kinda cute.

As expected, straightforward praise brings straightforward joy.

Sheng Quan wanted to pat Ning Zhou’s shoulder (or better yet, ruffle his hair), but remembering what she’d read—that many people with Asperger’s disliked physical contact—she forced herself to hold back.

Unable to pat his shoulder, Boss Sheng smoothly switched to verbal encouragement instead:

"Just focus on your work. If you need anything, tell me, and I’ll get it for you. Your teacher already told me—you’re a genius. All you need to do is concentrate on your research. Leave the rest to me; I’ll arrange everything."

She turned to look at Li Jun, who was still stuck in the mindset of "It’s signed? Just like that?" The teacher hurriedly nodded.

"Yes, yes. Ning Zhou, from now on, listen to Director Sheng and do your best, understand?"

The other teachers also breathed a sigh of relief. They had almost thought the contract wouldn’t be signed. Thankfully, Director Sheng was as generous as expected—no, no, as broad-minded as expected.

With a student securing such a massive research collaboration, the school couldn’t just stand by without contributing. They immediately assured her:

"Don’t worry, this project is very important to our school as well. We’ll do our best to adjust lab schedules to give these young researchers the space they need to excel."

Sheng Quan had only announced the project selection a few days ago, and already, one had been chosen for a 50-million-yuan investment.

Even C University was thrilled!

Even if this project hadn’t been high-priority before, its status was instantly elevated.

Sheng Quan paused for a second, taking a quick glance at her lottery page:

"No rush on that. We can discuss it later."

[006, bind Ning Zhou.]

006 happily completed the binding and asked, [Host, want to try the lottery?]

Sheng Quan: [After we finish here.]

She had noticed that ever since the system unbinding, perhaps because 006 subconsciously wanted to help, the lottery page sometimes shifted based on her strong desires.

For example, the last time she opened it—when she was hungry in the middle of the night but too lazy to get up—she saw a bunch of instant noodle factories.

Lately, after reading so much about research, the options had mostly been research-related.

And so, Director Sheng had a bold idea.

She decided to go home and stare at a bunch of pictures.

Research was expensive. Sure, she wasn’t short on funds, but if she could get something for free, why not?

The next day, Teacher Wang called to discuss some details from the school’s side.

"No need to prepare a lab," Sheng Quan said cheerfully, an eye mask on (her eyes hurt from staring at pictures).

"I just bought them a new one."

Teacher Wang wasn’t too surprised. Labs were expensive for ordinary people, but for someone like Sheng Quan, who could casually drop 50 million, it was probably nothing.

If she could spend that much, shelling out a few hundred thousand for a small lab wasn’t unusual. Students had done it before—some even started private research institutes. Sure, they were small-scale, but for students, it was impressive.

Though Sheng Quan was wealthier, so maybe hers would be a bit bigger.

Teacher Wang had been perfectly calm.

Until he and a few other teachers were invited by Sheng Quan to "take a look and offer guidance" on her newly purchased lab.

Before going, he had chuckled and said, "Let’s be encouraging. Even if it’s a small lab, it’ll still save a lot of trouble."

The other teachers naturally agreed.

Then they found themselves standing before a massive, architecturally striking building.

Sheng Quan waited at the entrance, greeting them with a smile:

"Welcome! I don’t know much about these things, so I’d appreciate your input. Do you think this lab suits Ning Zhou and the others?"

The group: "..."

They stared at the guarded gate, the clearly visible parking spaces inside, and the sheer scale of the place—even without stepping in, they could already imagine the quantity and quality of the equipment.

Their gazes slowly turned to Teacher Wang, who looked just as stunned: "..."

You call this a small lab?!!