Start by Spending One Billion [Entertainment Industry]

"So, if you're not nearsighted, why wear glasses?"

Sheng Quan had held back several times but finally couldn’t resist asking Gu Zhao the question.

Gu Zhao adjusted the gold-rimmed glasses on his face. Admittedly, they suited him quite well—though in a completely different way than they did Yu Xiangwan.

Glasses of a similar style made Yu Xiangwan look like a refined rogue, but on Gu Zhao’s face, they dialed up an air of restrained allure, perfectly complementing his calm tone:

"I assumed it aligns with your aesthetic preference. Wearing them may increase your favorable impression of me and could marginally raise the likelihood of you paying more attention to the company."

Sheng Quan: "…I knew it."

Now she understood why Gu Zhao had been staring at Yu Xiangwan’s face that day.

Thankfully, Gu Zhao only imposed demands on himself. If Yu Xiangwan had gotten the same idea, he might’ve made the entire company wear gold-rimmed glasses.

Watching Gu Zhao push up his glasses twice in just a few sentences, she was both exasperated and amused:

"Even if I do have that preference, there’s no need to force yourself if they’re uncomfortable. Non-nearsighted people wearing plain lenses can cause eye strain—why bother?"

Gu Zhao remained unflappable. "I’m not uncomfortable. It’s merely a minor adjustment period."

Sheng Quan: "Let me remind you, it’s been three days. You still haven’t adjusted."

Gu Zhao had his own logic: "No need for concern. The human adaptation period typically lasts fewer than thirty days. In twenty-seven more days, I’ll be fully accustomed."

As he finished, he adjusted his glasses again.

Sheng Quan gave up arguing. Gu Zhao operated on his own internal reasoning—trying to debate him would only trap her in circles.

She simply held out her hand. "Give them to me."

Gu Zhao hesitated for two seconds before reluctantly removing the glasses and placing them in her palm.

Once they were surrendered, he sat stiffly, lips pressed into a thin line. Sheng Quan, familiar with his mannerisms, knew this wasn’t displeasure but his "thinking mode." She tucked the glasses away and asked, "What’s on your mind?"

"I’m contemplating how to ensure you always choose me."

Sheng Quan: "Wait—what choice?"

Gu Zhao lifted his gaze, his pale gray eyes locking onto hers:

"Most employees in the company were handpicked by you. But not me. I merely happened to meet your criteria for COO, happened to be introduced by Wang Zhengzheng. Even if it weren’t me, you would’ve chosen someone else."

"You seem to inherently trust them, but not me. You trust Executive Producer Yu more than me. Even Jin Jiu—you developed trust in him almost instantly. Beyond their appearances, I can’t discern why you’d so readily place faith in them. So, the only option left to me is to emulate their looks."

His tone stayed matter-of-fact as he laid out his thoughts: "I hope you’ll grant me the same level of trust. That’s important to me."

Sheng Quan: "…"

This guy really did study psychology.

She did have innate trust in the others—because she knew their personalities, histories, and even their fates. Even Hua Qing and Liu Zi'an with Ming Qi had appeared briefly in the original novel.

But Gu Zhao hadn’t. She’d scoured her memory but found no mention of his name. Though there was one line in the book: a character visiting the hospital saw a strikingly handsome mixed-race man being wheeled off an ambulance.

He’d reportedly drunk himself to death during a business negotiation.

The character sighed about life’s hardships and vowed to quit drinking.

Sheng Quan suspected that man was Gu Zhao.

Not even granted a name in the story, he’d met a tragic end.

Now, this same workaholic CEO who should’ve died from overexertion was patiently awaiting her response.

Staring into his earnest eyes, she couldn’t exactly say, *"Because you died early, so I never got the chance to trust you in the novel."*

Sheng Quan: "I don’t know why you think I wouldn’t choose you."

She counted off on her fingers: "Your education, your skills, your experience, and your dedication to the company—I truly believe no one could outperform you in this role."

Gu Zhao replied flatly, "I once thought the same. Then Chen Xuanzheng and He Qi selected a completely incompetent fool and tried to replace me with him."

Sheng Quan recalled the two men who’d shown up with apology gifts days earlier: "Were they really that stupid? What was their reason for choosing that guy?"

"He’s Chen Xuanzheng’s brother-in-law and He Qi’s wife’s younger brother."

Sheng Quan had an epiphany.

She immediately reassured him: "Rest easy—I have no sisters, no wife, and my IQ is perfectly normal. Even if Mars collided with Earth, I’d never irrationally try to replace you."

Channeling her past-life boss, she grasped Gu Zhao’s hand solemnly: "I do trust and like them, but that’s different from how I trust *you*."

"Gu Zhao, you’re the best partner I’ve ever worked with."

(Though he was currently her only partner, it was still the truth.)

A employee this devoted to the company? She’d have to be insane not to trust him.

She genuinely couldn’t fathom what those two idiots at Wansheng had been thinking. If her former boss had had someone like Gu Zhao, he’d have enshrined him—let alone replacing him, he’d have moved mountains to keep him from leaving.

Sheng Quan spoke in a rush:

"Handing most company matters to you isn’t because I’m uninvolved—it’s because I believe the company will thrive under your leadership. I’m beyond grateful to have a COO like you steering the ship, and I hope we can work together to make Xingmang a global leader."

The words were sincere, but afterward, she wondered if they sounded overly sentimental—or worse, like corporate-speak.

Would Gu Zhao think she was feeding him empty promises?

But when she glanced at him, his long lashes trembled slightly, his pale gray eyes wide and dazed, as if utterly moved.

For someone as expressionless as Gu Zhao, this was practically an emotional outburst.

Sheng Quan: ?

The robot-like Gu Zhao actually *liked* compliments?

Indeed he did.

The proof? His ears turned red.

One might’ve thought she’d showered him with an 800-word tribute, when all she’d done was state facts.

"Thank you."

It took Gu Zhao a full ten seconds to respond, his voice slightly hoarse: "I won’t betray your trust. Now or in the future, I’ll remain your most steadfast support."

Unaccustomed to such declarations, he averted his eyes awkwardly afterward, pulling open a drawer and sliding a box toward her.

"This is for you."

He thought for a moment, then added, "I went to a physical store to have it customized. It should suit you well."

Sheng Quan was quite surprised, with a hint of delight: "Thank you."

To think, Gu Zhao usually bought daily necessities online just to devote more time to work—even unpacking deliveries was left to his assistant.

Even when buying clothes, staff from boutiques would come to take his measurements, and the finished custom pieces would be delivered to him.

For someone like Gu Zhao to visit a physical store just to buy her a gift was, by his standards, an exceptionally thoughtful gesture.

No wonder those two from Wansheng were idiots. How could they fail to appreciate someone as remarkable as Gu Zhao? No wonder their company was doomed.

Sheng Quan was in high spirits as she smiled and opened the box—only for her grin to freeze.

"Is this... a company seal case?"

Gu Zhao seemed rather proud of his gift. He pointed at the top with emphasis: "There are diamonds here too."

Sheng Quan stared at the sparkling diamond embedded in the seal case she now held.

It was undoubtedly a real diamond, and judging by its size, it couldn’t have been cheap. Though Gu Zhao wasn’t swimming in wealth, he certainly had no shortage of "small money," so the price wouldn’t have been an issue for him.

It’s just that she never imagined she’d receive a "diamond-encrusted company seal case" as a gift in her lifetime.

No wonder it had to be custom-made. While a company seal case could be replaced as long as the seal itself remained intact, who in their right mind would bedazzle one with diamonds?

Glancing at Gu Zhao, who appeared confident in his choice, Sheng Quan could only smile and accept it graciously: "Thank you, I love it."

Regardless, it was Gu Zhao’s thoughtful gesture. And for someone whose mind revolved entirely around work, the importance of a company seal was self-evident.

By giving her this, he must have taken a page from Yu Xiangwan’s book—combining something he valued deeply with something he thought she’d like.

Come to think of it, a diamond-studded seal case did sound pretty cool.

Seeing Sheng Quan accept it with a smile and even mention swapping her seal into it, Gu Zhao’s stiff posture relaxed slightly. His expression remained as composed as ever:

"As long as you like it."

Once Sheng Quan left, he returned to work, typing away until a message popped up on his messaging app.

**Sheng Quan**: *[It’s all set up now—so shiny and dazzling! Thanks! I’m going to post it on Weibo to show off the gifts you all gave me.]*

After replying earnestly, Gu Zhao opened Weibo.

His phone had all the necessary apps, though he rarely opened most of them.

Gu Zhao’s account name was a random string of system-generated characters. He clicked on his "Following" list—which consisted of only Sheng Quan.

**Sheng Quan**: *Two incredibly talented friends gave me these gifts. Though they weren’t given at the same time, they look perfect together! Love them!*

Attached was a photo: a diamond hairpin and the diamond-encrusted seal case, now housing her company seal.

Sheng Quan’s fame rivaled that of a celebrity, so within a minute of posting, the comments were already flooding in.

**[Ahhhh! Wife! I’m here!]**

**[Is this how the rich live? Even gifts come with diamonds!]**

**[So shiny!!! It blinded me—I’ve fallen and can’t get up unless my dear Quan helps me!]**

**[So beautiful!!!]**

**[Pretty? That’s just money transformed (dog emoji).]**

**[The wealthy even have diamond hairpins!]**

**[More than that! The rich even bedazzle their company seals with diamonds!!!]**

Gu Zhao had never been one to linger on platforms like Weibo. He considered fragmented information detrimental to focus, productivity, and a waste of time.

But today, he scrolled slowly, reading for a long, long while.

Suddenly, he remembered the previous winter.

He had overheard his two business partners talking—about him.

*—"What a freak. Gave me a gold-engraved company seal case as a ‘gift.’"*

*—"Does he actually think we’re friends? Ugh, who’d want to get close to someone like him? So cold and off-putting. Just thinking about him kills my appetite. Oh, what did you do with that seal case?"*

*—"Of course I’m using it. Let him see it and feel pleased. But now that the company’s this big, we don’t need him anymore. The only problem is his shares—we never should’ve given him any. Anyway, later we’ll— Gu Zhao?! When did you get here?!"*

*"Give it back."*

*—"W-what?"*

*"The gift I gave you. Return it."*

Not long after, Gu Zhao dealt a heavy blow to his two partners and left Wansheng alone.

Why would a brilliant genius start a company with two far less capable partners? Given his talents, he could have easily sought investors with deeper pockets, stronger foundations, and more experience.

Perhaps it was because, at one point, he had thought they were friends.

****

After admiring her gifts with satisfaction, Sheng Quan turned her attention to counting her earnings.

Jin Jiu’s favorability had long surpassed 80, and his career progress had skyrocketed to 37.

A single performance, seven years of dedication, and his own talent had propelled the once-unknown Jin Jiu to immense popularity, instantly surpassing Yan Hui, whose career progress had just reached 20 thanks to Yuan Zixin’s efforts.

That wasn’t to say Yan Hui was inferior—their professions simply differed. Yan Hui was an actor, and his projects hadn’t yet entered their promotional phase, while Jin Jiu, as a singer, could win over audiences the moment he stepped on stage.

Sheng Quan wasn’t worried in the slightest.

Slow and steady wins the race.

After all, the rewards from those she sponsored weren’t a one-time payout—they accrued monthly.

Meaning, not only did Jin Jiu bring her financial and longevity returns, but Yan Hui’s rising career progress also contributed.

**[Settlement complete.]** 006 tallied the results: **[Feedback funds: 60 million.]**

**[Host’s remaining lifespan: 3 months and 5 days.]**

Sheng Quan narrowed her eyes slightly: **[Seems like lifespan increases mainly depend on career progress.]**

Both Yan Hui and Jin Jiu’s favorability had exceeded 80%. Since the system stopped announcing exact figures beyond that, she didn’t know by how much. But in both cases, the added lifespan had been negligible.

A career progress of 37 had only bought her three more months.

Though monthly increments would surely push their progress even higher—and the higher it climbed, the greater the lifespan multiplier seemed to be—that was a matter for the future.

Right now, three months wasn’t nearly enough security.

Having made up her mind, Sheng Quan said to 006: **[I want to go big.]**

006 instantly replied: **[I support you!]**

Then, remembering to ask: **[How does the host plan to go big?]**

Sheng Quan: **[I need to find someone whose career can skyrocket in the shortest time possible.]**

Neither Yan Hui nor Jin Jiu’s professions allowed their career progress to shoot past 80% overnight. A 46-year-old Jin Jiu might have managed it. A 40-something Yan Hui might have too. But right now, their younger selves still needed to build their success step by step.

So what profession can help someone quickly climb the career ladder?

Sheng Quan pondered this question for several days, and by then, System 006 had already released new mission funds.

This time, the amount wasn’t as exaggerated. After all, the previous billion yuan had been constrained by online limitations. This time, it was just a modest 40 million—nothing extraordinary.

But with these 40 million added to the funds she’d already earned back, Sheng Quan had a total of 100 million at her disposal. Still an impressive sum that would turn heads no matter where she spent it.

She wasn’t in a hurry to pick a beneficiary. Instead, she started extensively researching professions—preferably those with some connection to the entertainment industry. After all, as a transmigrator, that was her biggest advantage.

Chairman Sheng was busy.

She brainstormed while soaking in the hot springs, snacking, swimming in her private pool, getting massages, and even during her spa sessions.

On the fifth day, as she ate, her phone suddenly rang.

She glanced at the caller ID—Lin Aike.

Ah, right. Yu Xiangwan had mentioned Lin was wrapping up filming soon. This was probably a courtesy call to celebrate the wrap.

They absolutely had to grab a meal and go shopping together.

In high spirits, Sheng Quan answered the call, only to hear Lin Aike’s frantic, tearful voice on the other end:

"Chairman Sheng, I’m at Room 1195 of the Ronghui Hotel in Modu. Please, help me! The company’s line won’t pick up—they’re doing this on purpose. They sold me out. I don’t dare call the police. If paparazzi catch wind of this, they’ll twist the story. You’re the only one I can turn to, Chairman Sheng..."

Outside, the towering bodyguard on duty suddenly heard Chairman Sheng let out a furious curse.

In all his time working for her, he’d only heard her swear like that when her favorite drama character died.

Clearly, this wasn’t about a TV show.

Because the next moment, Sheng Quan stormed out, her expression icy and her strides full of purpose. "To the Ronghui Hotel."

She turned to her driver. "Brother Jiang, do you have any tight-lipped colleagues? I need to hire them to back me up."

Driver Jiang Lu, seated behind the wheel, glanced back at her. "Miss Sheng, brawling is illegal."

"I know. It’s just for intimidation." Though furious, Sheng Quan hadn’t lost her composure. "These people prey on the weak. Once I show up, they’ll probably back off."

Of course, it didn’t hurt to prepare for the worst.

Hence, the backup plan.

Better safe than sorry.

After confirming Sheng Quan was serious, Jiang Lu pulled out his phone. "It’s short notice, so I might not get many people. But I’ll try."

Half an hour later...

Sheng Quan stared at the group of at least a dozen burly men gathered outside the Ronghui Hotel and fell silent for two seconds.

One of them even carried a bag, which he handed to Jiang Lu. Jiang passed it to Sheng Quan and whispered, "Some women’s clothes."

"...Thank you. Triple reimbursement after this is settled."

She’d been in such a hurry that she hadn’t thought of this. Thank goodness Jiang Lu had.

Driver Jiang—always reliable.

Hotel staff had already noticed the commotion and approached to inquire. Before Sheng Quan could respond, Jiang Lu smoothly stepped forward. Whatever he said made them hesitate before reluctantly stepping aside.

Once in the elevator, Sheng Quan asked, "What did you tell them?"

Jiang Lu replied solemnly, "I said we were here to catch a cheating spouse—a domestic issue we’d handle ourselves."

"Most hotels avoid trouble. As long as guests don’t call the cops or break anything, they usually stay out of it. At most, they’ll gossip later."

Then, as if suddenly remembering he worked for Junyue Hotel, he added, "But that’s just ordinary hotels. You can rest assured about Junyue’s privacy and security."

Sheng Quan smirked. "Oh, I’m plenty assured—especially with you around."

This wasn’t just a driver. He was a full-fledged bodyguard.

Room 1195 was a suite, just as Lin Aike had described.

At the door, Jiang Lu signaled for the others to stay back. The group expertly positioned themselves out of the peephole’s view, while he knocked.

A rough, impatient voice barked from inside, "Who is it?!"

Jiang Lu’s voice was usually deep, but somehow, he effortlessly lightened his tone. "Hello, we found Miss Lin’s phone. Someone’s been calling her, so we brought it back right away."

There was a pause. Two seconds later, the door cracked open.

The moment the man’s head appeared, Jiang Lu shoved the door wide open. The group surged in, and once Sheng Quan entered, he swiftly closed the door behind them.

The scene inside was clear: three men in the living room—one middle-aged and two scrawny bodyguards—along with a camera setup.

The two bodyguards were trying to break down a bedroom door, which showed signs of being kicked in. But they hadn’t come out unscathed—their faces were scratched, and one was bleeding from the head, likely from a well-aimed vase, judging by the shattered pieces on the floor.

Sheng Quan exhaled in relief.

Even though she’d stayed on the line with Lin Aike, seeing her safe with her own eyes was a whole different reassurance.

The middle-aged man, clearly drunk, gaped at the sudden crowd of brawny men before zeroing in on Sheng Quan—the only one who didn’t look like a fighter.

He staggered forward, slurring, "What the hell? A robbery? In broad daylight—"

His hand barely touched Sheng Quan’s shoulder when she was about to deliver a knee to his family jewels—

But Jiang Lu was faster. A single brutal kick sent the man flying a meter back, crashing to the floor.

The impact miraculously sobered him up. Instantly grasping the situation, he groaned and whimpered, "I surrender! I didn’t do anything! I was just scaring them!"

Sheng Quan raised an eyebrow at Jiang Lu. "I thought you said this was illegal?"

Jiang Lu calmly straightened. "It’s not illegal."

"It’s called being a hero."