Start by Spending One Billion [Entertainment Industry]-Chapter 60

The size of laboratories can naturally vary, but what stood before everyone now was more akin to a research institute than just a lab.

It wasn’t that Teacher Wang was arbitrarily redefining it, but rather…

He looked up at the massive plaque above the entrance, where the words were neatly inscribed:

[Youli Tengfei Research Institute]

Sheng Quan noticed their gazes and explained, "The plaque hasn’t been replaced yet. It should be done by this afternoon."

The teachers: "..."

Youli Tengfei was somewhat well-known in the industry, and in recent years, rumors had spread about its massive financial losses. The major investor backing it had also run into funding issues, leading to the decision to sell the institute.

The news of the sale had been announced, but whether anyone would buy it was another matter.

Just two days ago, a couple of teachers had been gossiping about it.

And now, here they were, standing right in front of it.

This research institute had actually been bought by Sheng Quan.

And it was all for the sake of a project led by one of their university’s students.

Sheng Quan led the teachers forward, accompanied by a guide and her five bodyguards—six, if you counted Brother Jiang.

She hadn’t been too surprised when she won this institute in the prize draw.

After all, through her relentless efforts to condition herself with the mantra "I need a lab, I need a lab," the prize pool had only offered three options. Winning this institute had been a one-in-three chance.

It wasn’t that Sheng Quan hadn’t considered more options—it was just that the prizes in the pool were all guaranteed to be purchasable in her name immediately upon winning.

Research-related labs were rarely sold unless the owners were relocating or had completely given up.

There were plenty of small, struggling labs, but the prize pool had a minimum financial threshold, especially since her own career achievements were factored into the criteria, raising the bar even higher.

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The massive exposure from The Cultivator had gradually stabilized, but Starlight Entertainment was steadily growing, with all its artists on an upward trajectory, even if none had skyrocketed to fame yet.

Combined with the career progress of the individuals she had sponsored, Sheng Quan estimated that the current prize pool only included items worth at least ten million yuan.

For example, the last time she’d gotten hungry late at night, the instant noodle factory in the prize pool had definitely been worth over ten million.

And in the domestic research landscape, ten million yuan was a significant dividing line.

Below that threshold, labs could be as cheap as tens of thousands, with the pricier ones reaching hundreds of thousands—the cheaper they were, the more abundant.

Above ten million, though…

Take this research institute, for instance. Just the construction costs alone likely exceeded ten million.

Not to mention the bulk of the expense—the cutting-edge research equipment. Sheng Quan was seeing it for the first time herself, but judging by the teachers’ reactions, these instruments were not only top-tier but also fully functional.

006 really was reliable.

Sheng Quan let out a sigh of relief. She hadn’t meant to show off in front of Teacher Wang—she’d originally envisioned a simple lab, but who knew the prize pool would offer three full-fledged research institutes?

But strictly speaking, a research institute was even better than a lab.

[006, thanks.]

006, suddenly praised, wanted to say it hadn’t pulled any strings—but then it remembered how much it had wanted Sheng Quan to succeed and felt a twinge of guilt.

Still, it quickly justified itself.

Sheng Quan had been funding talented individuals nonstop. In just over a year, she’d helped so many people—what was wrong with a little favoritism?

"This institute has always been quite renowned, though I’ve never visited before. It’s really…"

Sheng Quan hadn’t invited the teachers randomly. While she didn’t know much about research herself, she knew who to ask. Over the past few days, she’d visited C University daily, and each time, one or two teachers would recommend their students.

By now, she was practically familiar with most of them.

When it came to evaluating a "lab," these teachers were even more suitable than veteran experts. After all, experts at that level usually focused solely on their work and didn’t bother with trivial matters.

But these teachers—some mentored students, some handled equipment procurement, some spent years in labs. Together, they were practically an unstoppable team.

Teacher Liu cautiously approached a set of instruments in one of the labs.

"Wow, this set alone costs over three million. And there are five sets here—no wonder this lab is so spacious."

"Three million is nothing. Did you see the one in the previous lab? Seven million per set. Our university only has one, and everyone has to queue up to use it. Here, there are two!"

Their definition of a "set" wasn’t a single piece but rather a collection of dozens of instruments. C University had similar equipment—after all, it was known for splurging on research tools.

But this institute lacked the deep-rooted resources of C University, and as the teachers went through their checklist, they did identify a few high-end instruments missing here.

That didn’t mean it was inferior to C University’s labs, though.

Keep in mind—C University’s equipment had to serve the entire campus.

This research institute, with its numerous labs and vast array of instruments, was dedicated solely to Ning Zhou’s project.

And with an estimated team of just fifty people—where a university setting might feel cramped—here, in this sprawling institute…

They could use any lab they wanted, anytime.

Any instrument, ready at a moment’s notice.

This was practically every researcher’s dream.

The teachers marveled as they carefully inspected everything, nodding in admiration—only to feel a pang of envy soon after.

None of them had access to such ideal conditions.

Sure, there were areas where their university still outshone this place, but that didn’t stop the longing.

Then, Sheng Quan took the list of missing equipment they’d compiled, glanced at it, and handed it to her secretary.

"Thank you, everyone. I’ll make sure these are acquired as quickly as possible."

The teachers: "..."

Great. Now even the one area where C University had the advantage was about to be matched.

Sheng Quan continued earnestly, "But since these need to be imported, it might take a while. Will that delay Ning Zhou’s project?"

"No, those aren’t critical in the early stages," the teachers replied, envy aside.

After answering, Teacher Wang couldn’t resist asking, "Ms. Sheng, are you really dedicating this entire institute just to Ning Zhou’s team?"

The struggles of Youli Tengfei were common knowledge—research institutes burned money, and scientific pursuits demanded constant upgrades, requiring endless investment in new equipment.

Private research institutes without government support are even harder to sustain. I heard this one has been operating at a loss for quite some time, so it’s understandable that they’re selling it off now to cut their losses.

But even as a distressed sale, with all the equipment and instruments still here and such a large space, how much cheaper could it really get?

Even without factoring in electricity and maintenance costs, the expenses are already sky-high. Add to that the 50 million yuan project funding, and it’s only accommodating a little over fifty researchers.

Isn’t that a bit too extravagant??

"Of course, it won’t always be just these fifty-some researchers," Sheng Quan said.

She couldn’t exactly admit, "I really just wanted to set up a small lab at first—who knew it would blow up like this? Now I’m stuck in this situation too."

Instead, she flashed a smile that said, "Everything is under control":

"For now, we’re prioritizing Ning Zhou and his team. This is my first time being involved in a project like this, and since I’m not a professional, I can’t contribute much to the actual research. The least I can do is provide them with the best possible environment."

What a dream client.

No micromanaging, no pointless chatter—just fully funded, fully equipped support. Even the professors, who’d witnessed countless university-industry collaborations, had never encountered anything like this.

Forget the students—even they were itching to sign up.

But they didn’t even need to ask. Sheng Quan had already made the offer:

"I also want to thank all of you for taking the time to help me inspect these instruments. Earlier, I heard some of you mention that important equipment at the university might have long waiting lists. So, if you don’t mind, feel free to use this lab whenever you need in the future."

Talk about a windfall!

They hadn’t minded sparing some time to help Sheng Quan evaluate the lab—it wasn’t far, and with two of her projects still unassigned, the professors had all been hoping to get their students noticed.

But now, they were getting an unexpected bonus!

They exchanged glances, torn between accepting immediately or politely demurring first.

Sheng Quan didn’t give them time to hesitate. She continued:

"This place might not compare to the university, but we’ve got plenty of lab space, and the instruments are readily available. Of course, I do have a small selfish motive—Ning Zhou and the others are still students. If you could drop by occasionally, you might be able to offer them some guidance."

With both face and benefits handed to them, the professors happily agreed without further protest.

This trip had been more than worth it!

Precisely because they were the kind of professors Sheng Quan had handpicked—those deeply passionate about research—they understood just how rare an opportunity this was.

Though none of them said it aloud, each silently resolved to teach those lucky students a thing or two whenever they came to use the lab.

It was the least they could do to repay Director Sheng.

Speaking of students…

"When will the students working on this project move in? Should be in the next couple of days, right? Have they seen the place yet?"

"No." Sheng Quan smiled. "I wanted to surprise them."

It felt nice, like preparing a gift.

"Besides, the project members haven’t been finalized yet. It might take a few days just to settle on the team size."

So the roster wasn’t set? Some of the professors with students of their own were already scheming ways to squeeze them into the project.

Massive funding. A spacious, well-equipped institute. Top-tier, high-precision instruments.

This was a once-in-a-decade opportunity!

If it hadn’t been explicitly labeled a student project from the start, they’d have been fighting to join themselves.

As for whether the students would be willing? With a project like this, only a fool would say no!

When it came to Ning Zhou recruiting project members, his advisor, Li Jun, naturally took charge.

He didn’t just scout other students—he also called in two of his own and told them to join Ning Zhou’s team.

The two students’ eyes nearly popped out of their heads. "Professor?! What are you talking about?! We have our own project! Why would we join Ning Zhou’s?!"

If Li Jun’s feelings toward Ning Zhou oscillated between exasperation and pride before swiftly tipping back into exasperation, then with these two knuckleheads, he was perpetually on the verge of a vein-popping outburst.

"You two have the nerve to ask. Three days in, and you’ve already switched projects eight times. In all my years of teaching, I’ve never had students as unreliable as you two. Scatterbrained, half-hearted—just look at what you handed in last time. A complete rush job. I’m almost embarrassed to admit I taught you…"

He ​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‍was about to launch into his usual scathing critique when he remembered the matter at hand and quickly reeled himself back in, forcing a warm smile.

"Ning Zhou is still your junior. I know his personality has its… quirks, and you three don’t get along perfectly. But deep down, you’re all good kids. And I’m sending you there for your own good."

"Quirks? He doesn’t just have quirks—he straight-up looks down on people!" The two students immediately bristled.

This was exactly why Li Jun usually stayed out of their dynamics. These two might be a bit dense, but they were decent at heart.

They had solid personalities. Sure, Li Jun chewed them out often, but that was only because they were so unreliable—their skills were never in question.

Back when Ning Zhou first became Li Jun’s student, the two had eagerly brought snacks to welcome their new junior, only for Ning Zhou to say he didn’t like that kind of food.

Most people would’ve taken offense, but the very next day, they showed up again with drinks—which Ning Zhou refused, saying he didn’t accept beverages from others.

Their well-meaning interpretation: "Sure, there was that poisoning case at the neighboring university, but you don’t have to be this paranoid with us, do you?"

And just like that, a one-sided grudge was born.

The funny thing was, these two never stopped grumbling about Ning Zhou—this wasn’t right, that wasn’t right—yet whenever Ning Zhou ran into trouble during work, they’d clam up and step in to help without a word.

Ning Zhou being disrespectful to the professor (in their eyes)? They’d sulk.

Ning Zhou being unfriendly to them (again, their perspective)? They’d sulk harder.

But they helped every single time, their justification being, "The professor told us to look after our junior, so we’ll help even if we’re annoyed."

Li Jun had initially tried to clear up the misunderstandings, but new ones cropped up faster than he could explain them. Seeing that Ning Zhou didn’t seem bothered, he’d eventually given up and let their bizarre relationship run its course.

But after witnessing how Ning Zhou’s eyes had lit up the moment Sheng Quan praised him last time, Li Jun couldn’t help but reflect.

Maybe Ning Zhou only seemed indifferent to his seniors’ dislike.

Just like how he’d appeared completely unfazed after those five rejections—yet he’d remembered every single one.

He remembered that they didn’t like him.

And soon, Ning Zhou would be leaving his mentor to become an independent project leader.

To be honest, Li Jun wasn’t entirely at ease.

After a night of careful consideration, he came up with a brilliant idea—have all three students leave together.

"Why should we all go together? Even if we do, he should be the one joining us. His project has been in the works for years—what’s so great about it? No one’s even investing in it."

"Unlike ours—sure, it’s changed direction a bit quickly, but Teacher, I’m telling you, I’m confident I can secure funding."

The eldest senior brother was smug, mysteriously holding up a number with his fingers: "Someone’s willing to invest fifty grand in me. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have switched to this project."

"Yeah, we thought about it, and that billion-yuan fund is way too competitive—no way we’d get it. Might as well go for this fifty grand," the second senior brother chimed in.

The two were quite pleased with themselves. After all, as university students, independently securing that kind of money was impressive.

Seeing their mentor’s inexplicably constipated expression, they assumed he was just worried about Ning Zhou:

"Don’t worry, Teacher. You just want us to look after Ning Zhou, right? After all this time, I get it—his personality has its flaws, but we’re his seniors. We’ll be patient with him. You can trust us to take him under our wing."

"Yeah, out of respect for you, Teacher, we’ll make the sacrifice. We’re willing to guide him—though we’ll still call him out if he messes up."

Li Jun paused for a few seconds. "I don’t think I’ve mentioned this yet, but Ning Zhou’s project has been signed."

The two students were stunned. Before they could even ask for the amount, their mentor continued:

"Funding of fifty million."

The two: "..."

Li Jun: "I already asked him. He’s agreed to let you join."

The two: "..."

Li Jun eyed his students with concern.

"Ning Zhou has a clearer perspective. He’s so young but already leading a fifty-million-yuan project. I was worried people might not take him seriously."

"You’re not going there to criticize him. A project this big—you know how much it’ll add to your resumes. So, out of gratitude for Ning Zhou giving you this opportunity, at least show him some respect in front of others."

It should’ve been good news, but the more Li Jun spoke, the less confident he felt. These three students were each more unreliable than the last, and there were misunderstandings between them.

He couldn’t help but rub his temples.

Was putting these three together really the right decision?

And it wasn’t an exaggeration—these two students did have some principles. One of them had rebelled against his previous mentor for treating students like unpaid labor, regardless of the risks.

They might not be willing to compromise their integrity just for money…

"Teacher!"

The eldest senior brother suddenly shot to his feet. "Don’t worry! Leave Little Junior to us—we’ll make sure he’s well-fed and taken care of!"

Li Jun: "..."

The second senior brother, the one who had famously rebelled against his previous mentor on principle, nodded thoughtfully.

"I passed by the lab earlier and saw Little Junior skipping meals again to work on experiments. I’ll grab him some food later. He’s so young—he shouldn’t be neglecting his health like this."

"Right! He loves braised pork with kidney beans. I’ll get him some right away."

"And stir-fried cabbage—he likes that too."

"Teacher, we’re heading to the cafeteria. Have you eaten? Want us to bring you something?"

Li Jun: "...Get out!"

"On it!"

The two students promptly rolled out.

Li Jun sat in his chair, rubbing his temples. After a moment, he couldn’t help but chuckle.

Hah. For some reason, he was feeling pretty darn pleased.