Start by Spending One Billion [Entertainment Industry] Chapter 92

The roar of a helicopter echoed across the sky, drawing the gazes of passersby below.

"Damn, that's one cool helicopter!"

"Is it Sheng Quan? I think I’ve seen it in the news—hers looks just like that."

"Not necessarily. Wasn’t she in H City?"

A young man walking by glanced up and confidently chid in, "It’s hers. She cos here often—we’d recognize it anywhere."

The other two passersby suddenly understood and quickly pulled out their phones to snap photos of the sleek helicopter soaring overhead. The young man also recorded a clip and imdiately sent it to his dorm group chat:

"Sheng Quan’s here! Wonder if she’ll drop by the campus. Fingers crossed!"

Yes, this young man was a student at C University.

That "Senior Sheng Quan" wasn’t just a joke. Ever since Sheng Quan generously invested in nurous research projects at the school, the students who’d received funding had gradually begun producing results over ti.

Of course, not every student could match Gu Shuyue’s rapid breakthroughs or her years of accumulated potential.

But these were talents who’d gone through rigorous selection to secure funding from C University’s entire student body. Even the slowest among them had made so progress.

In ​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌‍two years, these already outstanding students seized their opportunities, showcasing their abilities in full. So had even been recruited by national agencies, while the rest could confidently be called "boundless in prospects."

Most importantly, Sheng Quan kept her promise. In the new year, she selected another batch of students, providing them with project funding and platforms to shine.

For those who chose to stay and work at Starlight Technology after their achievents, she welcod them wholeheartedly. Those who preferred other research institutes or governnt positions? She let them go without hesitation.

At first, so might’ve suspected Sheng Quan was just grandstanding. But as ti passed, more and more people ca to believe her support was genuine.

After all, pouring hundreds of millions into this every year? That was practically charity.

So might’ve thought Sheng Quan’s disregard for money was outrageous, but C University’s students, fellow researchers, and even senior military and political figures certainly didn’t see it that way.

Here was a young returnee wholeheartedly supporting the nation—promoting Chinese culture through film, boosting tourism, creating countless jobs, stepping up during disasters, and advancing scientific research.

Strictly speaking, these high-ranking admirers of Sheng Quan had never even t her face-to-face. But that didn’t stop them from respecting her.

At the very least, Gu Zhao had ntioned to Sheng Quan that since she began backing research, Starlight Entertainnt’s governnt-approved projects had been processed noticeably faster.

An unexpected bonus behind the scenes.

As for the visible perks? The overwhelming goodwill from C University’s faculty and students topped the list.

Every ti Sheng Quan visited the campus, students would greet her with cries of "Senior!" The mont her distinctive helicopter was spotted, the school’s group chats would buzz with excitent. You’d think C University was her alma mater.

But today, Sheng Quan wasn’t heading to the school.

The helicopter landed smoothly on a cleared patch of ground at the research institute. Jiang Lu stepped out first, scanning the surroundings before turning to help Sheng Quan down.

It was lunchti at the institute, and most students paused mid-al or crowded by the windows at the commotion.

"So cool…"

No matter how many tis they saw it, soone would always murmur those words.

Especially when Sheng Quan strode forward after removing her sunglasses, exuding effortless charisma, trailed by a team of tall, stern bodyguards. The scene was more cinematic than any movie.

A young woman couldn’t help but gush, "Chairman Sheng is just unreal."

The reality? Sheng Quan was practically vibrating with excitent as she hurried forward, firing questions at the assistant jogging to et her:

"It’s really ready? Weren’t we saying it’d take at least six more months?"

Full dive VR!

Actual full dive VR!

Outwardly: Cool, composed, striding ahead like a boss.

Inwardly: Ready to have Jiang Lu carry her sprinting to the prototype pod.

Most internet-savvy young people had probably dread of a world where full dive VR existed. In her past life, Sheng Quan had often joked, "Just let see it before I kick the bucket."

Because a full dive world was essentially a second reality. The depictions in sci-fi? It was like transporting a human soul into another living, breathing universe.

Way more imrsive than regular VR. Even the best VR gaming rig Sheng Quan used now still felt clunky at tis.

In Starlight Wars, there’d been a plotline where the protagonist, Gu Li, failed to escape unscathed—ending up stranded in a parallel world 3,000 years in the past, his body immobilized.

At this point in Hua Country, dical technology was far from achieving what would be possible three thousand years later. They couldn’t cure Gu Li, but by leveraging the bits of technology he brought with him, they eventually made a breakthrough—creating a fully imrsive holographic world for him.

In reality, Gu Li could only lie motionless on a hospital bed, but in the holographic world, he could move freely, run, and jump to his heart’s content.

—This was the power of holography.

Of course, Sheng Quan was well aware that no matter how much of a genius Ning Zhou was, and no matter how much money she poured into the project, he couldn’t possibly recreate the kind of holographic technology seen in movies within just two years.

In the original novel Starlight, this technology was still in its infancy—though it was also possible that Ning Zhou, the mastermind behind it, hadn’t lived long enough to develop it further before succumbing to illness.

But that didn’t matter. They already had the foundation—why worry about the process and results not following smoothly?

Besides, this ti, Ning Zhou was alive and well. Not only did he have two senior colleagues looking after him, but Sheng Quan had also assigned him five assistants the mont he made his first small breakthrough, covering every aspect of his life and work. He even had a nutritionist planning his als.

While other employees at the company underwent annual health checkups, Ning Zhou was dragged in for one every three months.

With plenty of experience dealing with "fragile" employees, Chairman Sheng was determined: There’s no way he’s dying young this ti.

And now, all she could think was: Let at it! Let experience holography firsthand!

She arrived at the highest-security laboratory at twice her usual speed.

Ever since the first signs of success had appeared, Sheng Quan had been itching to install eight hundred surveillance caras here. The security company had stationed over a dozen guards along these two corridors alone, working in shifts around the clock.

So might argue that she was being overly cautious—that her heavy-handed asures might draw unnecessary attention. But Chairman Sheng didn’t care. When it ca to critical projects, she insisted on foolproof protection.

If firearms weren’t banned in Hua Country, she would’ve ard them with all kinds of heat weapons.

After successfully entering three layers of passwords, the heavy door swung open, and Sheng Quan’s eyes imdiately landed on the holographic pod—not Ning Zhou, who stood beside it.

Normally, Chairman Sheng made a point of checking in on her employees. Even though Ning Zhou wasn’t technically her employee, she always made ti to visit him during her trips to the research institute (mostly to ensure he was in good health).

But co on—how could anyone resist the allure of a holographic pod?

Her gaze was practically glued to the massive pod, which took up nearly half the room.

To be honest, it looked a bit clunky—far from the sleek, futuristic aesthetic one might expect.

But that didn’t stop Sheng Quan and Ning Zhou from staring at it with identical expressions of reverence.

"Can I try it now?"

Sheng Quan was practically vibrating with excitent.

Ning Zhou nodded. After two years of careful recuperation, he no longer looked as gaunt as before. His once-pale complexion had gained color, and his overly thin fra had filled out slightly.

Though he still wasn’t much of a talker, he had clearly grown comfortable around Sheng Quan—so much so that he actually stepped closer to her when she arrived.

He never initiated conversations, yet this ti, he spoke up unprompted:

"This… is really impressive."

His usually expressionless face, which often made him seem aloof, now carried a hint of uncharacteristic earnestness—almost eager.

Sheng Quan nodded emphatically, her eyes practically sparkling as she stared at the pod. "It’s amazing! Ning Zhou, you’re a genius! How did you even manage to build a holographic pod in such a short ti?!"

Ning Zhou gave a small nod. He didn’t smile, but his posture relaxed noticeably, shedding the cold detachnt he usually carried.

His two senior colleagues and assistants weren’t surprised.

Ning Zhou’s trust in Sheng Quan hadn’t appeared overnight—it had been built over two years of her visiting him, talking with him, and supporting every one of his ideas, no matter how outlandish.

Ning Zhou was a genius, but not all his ideas panned out. Many were wildly unconventional, and over those two years, countless funds had been poured into projects that ultimately went nowhere.

He struggled with emotional expression, but he knew when his decisions led to massive losses. Back then, the entire research team had worried that Sheng Quan would pull the plug—after all, they’d already burned through so much money and equipnt.

But the first thing Sheng Quan said when she flew in was: "Ning Zhou, have you been skipping als again?"

Ning Zhou, who had been anxiously trying to figure out how to explain the situation, froze on the spot.

So did his equally nervous colleagues.

In the end, Sheng Quan treated them all to hot pot.

Though it might seem odd for soone of her wealthy status to host a dinner at a hotpot restaurant, there was no denying that the familiar setting helped the visibly nervous students finally relax.

Ning Zhou sat beside Sheng Quan, quietly eating from his personal mild broth pot. During als, he would always carefully pick up a bite of food, unhurriedly lower his long lashes, and blow on it—once, twice… four tis. Only after exactly four blows would he finally place the food in his mouth, chewing with deliberate focus before swallowing. In these monts, he paid no attention to anyone or anything else.

But that day in the hotpot restaurant, Ning Zhou couldn’t help stealing occasional glances at Sheng Quan, who was enthusiastically devouring food from the extra-spicy chili broth while hissing and puffing from the heat.

It was as if he was curious… or perhaps just watching her.

From that day on, the young man—who had always been unwilling to engage in anything outside his research—would slowly inch closer to Sheng Quan whenever she visited the institute.

Just like now.

Sheng Quan practically wanted to pour out a lifeti’s worth of praise onto Ning Zhou. After showering him with enthusiastic complints, she eagerly lay down inside the holographic pod under his guidance.

She had a rough idea of how far Ning Zhou’s research had progressed. After all, the original novel had described it.

Of course, in this life, with ample funding and a team of assistants, his progress would differ from the previous tiline. But scientific research wasn’t sothing Sheng Quan expected to advance too quickly.

Until she tried the holographic pod.

The pod door opened, and Sheng Quan sat up, slowly removing the visor.

She truly hadn’t expected Ning Zhou’s potential to be this staggering.

This wasn’t just the early stages of holography—it was nearly on par with the kind seen in sci-fi films!

And no, she didn’t want to hear about how much this prototype cost. This wasn’t about money!

This was about technology! Innovation!

Prices could drop as developnt progressed, but groundbreaking tech like this was one-of-a-kind.

Wait… no, it was still about money. This holographic tech, combined with her plans…

Sheng Quan: Holy hell, we’re gonna make a killing!

He Xi, noticing Sheng Quan’s pensive expression after she sat up, quickly stepped forward to help her out.

"Chairman Sheng, how was it?"

Sheng Quan still looked sowhat dazed, but she quickly snapped back to reality, gazing at Ning Zhou and his team with nothing short of awe.

"It was… beyond expectations."

Way beyond. She suddenly felt the urge to strangle the original author—how dare they kill off a genius like this?! She really should’ve cursed them out more back then.

"How soon can we mass-produce it?"

Ning Zhou: "Six months."

Sheng Quan glanced around the heavily secured room, then at the guards posted outside. She paused mid-step.

"No, no, no."

While the others were still wondering what Chairman Sheng ant, she took the phone He Xi handed her and dialed a number.

Sheng Quan was about to prove, once again, just how cautious she could be.

Elder Qin, the retired division commander currently enjoying tea and TV at the security training base, answered her call:

"Advisor Qin, can you get in touch with the national authorities?"

Elder Qin: "Huh???"

"The kind that requires top secrecy?"

Elder Qin: "What?!"

Still on the phone, Sheng Quan looked back at Ning Zhou, who was watching her with bright, expectant eyes.

"Well… there’s soone here who might need protection with… firearms."