The old tech incubator was a graveyard of dreams. A converted warehouse on the city's industrial fringe, its once-vibrant murals were now faded and chipped. At 9 PM on a weekday, it was desolate. Only a few windows glowed with the blue light of all-night coders or cleaning staff.
Lin Feng stood across the street, the scarf box for Su Xiaoyu still in his hand. He'd changed into his only presentable outfit—a simple, clean white shirt and dark trousers. He looked less like a student and more like a junior intern. It would have to do.
Jiang Li's company, Nexus Logistics Tech, was listed as being in Unit 307. The directory in the dusty lobby confirmed it. He took the shuddering elevator up.
The third-floor hallway echoed with his footsteps. Most doors had peeling logos or were blank. Unit 307's door was slightly ajar, a thin sliver of yellow light cutting across the dark corridor. He could hear the rapid, frustrated clicking of a keyboard.
He knocked.
The typing stopped. A moment of silence. "It's open." The voice was tired, dry, expecting a delivery person or landlord.
Lin Feng pushed the door open.
The room was a testament to ambition's corpse. A large, open space meant for a growing team, now occupied only by a single desk in the center, piled high with documents and three large monitors. Whiteboards lined the walls, covered in complex logistics algorithms and faded motivational phrases. The air smelled of dust, stale coffee, and ozone from overheating electronics.
At the desk sat Jiang Li.
She was more striking in person. The weariness was a physical weight on her shoulders, but her eyes, when they flicked up from the screen, were like polished flint—sharp, intelligent, and hostile.
"If you're from the building management, the rent is being processed," she said, her gaze already dropping back to her screen. Her fingers resumed their angry dance on the keyboard. Dismissal complete.
New Target Identified: Jiang Li.
Favorability Rating: 10/100 ('Unwanted Interruption').
"I'm not from building management," Lin Feng said, stepping inside. He kept his voice calm, respectful. "My name is Lin Feng. I read about Nexus. About your work on AI-driven supply chain optimization."
Her typing slowed. She didn't look up. "And?"
"And I want to invest."
That made her stop. She leaned back in her creaking chair, finally giving him her full attention. Her eyes scanned him—his youth, his cheap clothes, the gift box in his hand. A cruel, disappointed smile touched her lips. Favorability: 8/100.
"A student." It wasn't a question. "Let me guess. A business class project? 'Interview a failed entrepreneur'? Or is this some kind of prank?" Her voice was laced with a bitterness that had been simmering for months.
"It's not a prank," Lin Feng said, walking closer. He placed the scarf box on the edge of a filing cabinet. "I have capital. I need a vehicle. You have a vehicle. It just needs fuel."
"Capital." She barked a laugh. "How much? Your lunch money? Ten thousand? Fifty thousand? That might cover one month's server costs for the prototype." She gestured around the empty office. "Look around, kid. This is what 'failure' looks like. This is what happens when 'capital' dries up. Don't waste your time."
"Five million RMB."
The words hung in the dusty air.
Jiang Li froze. The sarcasm drained from her face, replaced by pure, stunned disbelief. "What?"
"An initial investment. Five million RMB. For a 40% stake in the revived Nexus Logistics Tech." Lin Feng recited the figure he'd calculated on the ride over. With 334,000 capital, he needed a massive multiplier to reach that. He was betting everything on this moment, on this woman. "You remain CEO. Full operational control. My involvement is purely financial and strategic."
She stared at him, searching for the lie. "Who are you?"
"Someone who believes in undervalued assets." He met her flinty gaze. "Your prototype is complete. Your business plan is solid. You failed because your previous investors had the patience of gnats and the vision of moles. I'm not them."
Her Favorability flickered: 15/100. Curiosity was overpowering contempt.
"Prove it," she challenged, her voice tight. "Show me the money. Right now."
"Transferring large sums at this hour is problematic. But I can demonstrate capacity." Lin Feng pulled out his phone. "What is the most pressing, immediate debt? The one that keeps you up at night?"
Jiang Li's jaw tightened. "The back rent for this space. Three months. Eighty-four thousand RMB. It's due tomorrow at noon, or they change the locks and seize the servers for collateral."
Lin Feng didn't hesitate. He opened his banking app. "Account details. Now."
Silence stretched. This was the moment. Either she called security, or she took the craziest gamble of her life. With a sharp, almost defiant movement, she grabbed a business card from the desk and slid it across to him. It had the incubator's management company account details handwritten on the back.
Lin Feng input the details. Amount: 84,000 RMB. Note: "Nexus Tech – Rent Settlement." He showed her the screen with the confirmation prompt. Her eyes widened slightly. He pressed his thumb on the fingerprint sensor.
Payment Sent.
A second later, her phone, lying on the desk, buzzed with a payment receipt notification.
She snatched it up, staring at the screen. The hard lines of her face softened, just for a millisecond. The weight of one mountain lifted. Favorability: 25/100.
Transaction Logged.
Target: Jiang Li (Favorability Rating: 25/100).
Expenditure: 84,000.00 RMB.
Cashback Multiplier: x1 (Favorability below 60).
Cashback Generated: 84,000.00 RMB.
Net Financial Change: 0.
Current Capital: 334,405.40 RMB.
He'd broken even again. But he'd bought something more valuable than profit: credibility.
"The five million," Jiang Li said, putting her phone down slowly, her voice now stripped of all mockery. It was the voice of a CEO. "Terms?"
"Standard term sheet. We can have lawyers draft it tomorrow. The money will be in the company account within 48 hours of signing." He was bluffing about the timeline. He needed to generate the cash first. But he had a plan. Su Xiaoyu was the key.
"Why?" she asked, the core question finally emerging. "Why me? Why this?"
Lin Feng thought of the System's rule. Treating targets as mere financial instruments will trigger penalties. He needed an emotional truth. He looked at the whiteboards, at the skeleton of a brilliant idea.
"Because the world runs on logistics," he said quietly. "And you saw how to make it smarter. They called it a failure. I call it a seed. I want to water it." He paused. "And because everyone needs someone to believe in them when the lights are off."
It was calculated, but it wasn't untrue. Jiang Li's breath caught. Her eyes, for the first time, showed a crack of vulnerability. The fierce, lonely struggle she'd endured. Favorability: 35/100.
It was working.
"Okay," she whispered. Then, stronger: "Okay. We have a deal. I'll have my lawyer—my former lawyer—pull the old term sheet. We adjust."
"Good." Lin Feng nodded. "First strategic directive: hire back your core team. The ones who believed. Offer them a 20% salary premium. Tonight. Call them."
A spark reignited in Jiang Li's eyes. The fire of command. "They'll think I've gone crazy."
"Tell them the truth. A new investor believes. The work starts now." He turned to leave, then glanced at the scarf box. "One more thing. This is for you."
He picked up the box and placed it on her desk.
She looked at it, then at him, utterly confused. "What is this?"
"A scarf. It's cold in here. And a CEO should look the part when she meets her new team." He gave a small, almost imperceptible smile. "Consider it a signing bonus."
He left before she could respond, closing the door softly behind him.
Inside the office, Jiang Li sat motionless for a full minute. Then, slowly, she reached for the elegantly wrapped box. She opened it. The ivory cashmere was soft as a cloud. She touched it, her calloused fingers catching on the fine threads. No one had given her a gift in… years. It wasn't romantic. It was… respectful. It was a symbol of a new beginning.
She brought the scarf to her face. It smelled clean. Favorability: 48/100.
Lin Feng, in the elevator, saw the notification. He let out a long, shaky breath. Not 60 yet. But close. So close. He had secured the vehicle. Now he needed the fuel. The five million.
He pulled out his phone and texted Su Xiaoyu. "Class Monitor, are you free for breakfast tomorrow? I need your advice on something important. My treat – anywhere you want."
The reply came almost instantly. *"After what you did? Lin Feng, I should be treating YOU for a year. Of course. There's a new Western-style place near campus. Is 8 AM too early?"*
"Perfect."
He had until 8 AM to plan. The multiplier with Su Xiaoyu was 20x. To generate five million, he needed to spend 250,000 on her. He had 334,000. It was possible. But he couldn't just hand her a quarter-million yuan. It had to be a gift. An investment. Something that would not only maintain but increase her favorability.
An idea began to form. A perfect, beautiful, and utterly shameless idea.
As he walked out of the incubator, his phone buzzed. An unknown number. He answered.
"Lin Feng." It was Zhang Wei's voice, smug but with an undercurrent of confusion. "That bottle. That was you, wasn't it? Trying to buy your way into looking cool?"
Lin Feng smiled. "Did you enjoy it, Zhang Wei?"
A pause. "Twelve thousand for a bottle. That's a lot of money for a scholarship student to waste. Where'd you get it? Sell a kidney?"
"Just a small investment that paid off," Lin Feng said lightly. "Enjoy the night. You might want to savor it. The price of your… leisure… is about to go up."
He hung up, blocking the number. The game was no longer on campus. It was here, in the real world. And he had just moved his first major piece onto the board.
He looked back at the dark incubator building, at the single lit window on the third floor. Inside, a broken queen was slowly straightening her crown, a cashmere scarf around her shoulders.
The empire had its founder.
Now, it needed its first infusion of gold.