Chapter 50 Graduation Piece

During the Spring Festival holidays, it didn't take much thought to figure out what Jiang Xuan was up to: nothing more than entertaining clients and higher-ups, and securing allegiance from his foremen. Zejian and Zeyu took different paths and played different games; taking those people out for tea, casual chats, and theatrical performances was nowhere near as effective as getting down and dirty with them.

"Hang on, let me take this in the restroom..." After a brief moment, the line went quiet, immediately followed by the sound of Jiang Xuan retching—"Ugh... blech... ugh..."

He was probably throwing up. After retching for a while, he finally panted into the phone: "...You're damn lucky you didn't come... Oh my lord, these officials turn into literal monsters the moment they step into a private dining room..."

"Mind your own health, then. If you drink yourself to death, nobody's going to shed a tear," Zhao Zejun said flatly.

"If I drink myself to death, it'll be because I was drinking for you! You play the hands-off boss, run off to university to flirt with college girls, and leave me here to suffer. I'm telling you, when we expand to the provincial capital in the future, you'd better introduce me to a few fresh, dewy young female students," Jiang Xuan complained.

"My ass. Can any female student you introduce still be dewy and fresh? They're all seasoned veterans by then!" Zhao Zejun retorted casually.

That particular slang term hadn't become mainstream yet; Jiang Xuan pondered it for a moment before the meaning finally clicked. "Holy crap, that is vivid! Looks like going to university really broadens the mind!"

"Alright, go back to your drinking. Remember to pick up some stomach medicine."

"Got it, got it. I'm hanging up now, they're calling me from outside."

There were many relationships to maintain, with Deyuan Company and Huayang Group being the two most critical ones, even though he still had very little business dealings with either of them, and barely any contact at all.

Wang Yan was somewhat more approachable; they had run into each other at the gym a few times and swam together. As for Old Niu, ever since that time he was strong-armed into investing three hundred thousand yuan into developing some bullshit longevity elixir, they hadn't been in touch.

Yet bosses of that caliber were never going to gather every day to drink and chase hostesses the way petty foremen did. Even if they wanted to hang out, he and those men were still worlds apart in status.

During festivals and holidays, a phone call of regards to keep oneself fresh in their memories, combined with minimal disturbance when nothing major was happening, was the best way to interact at this stage.

Speaking of the elixir of immortality, Zhao Zejun was never quite certain: what was the real motive behind Niu Shengli's superstitious pharmaceutical venture?

The mindset of genuine billionaires was something ordinary people could hardly comprehend.

Judging by Zhao Zejun's current perspective and way of thinking, investment demanded returns. If he were running the show, those four characters—immortality and eternal youth—were most likely just a marketing gimmick for health supplements, with the ultimate goal being to sell products and turn a profit.

Yet, what Niu Shengli was actually thinking, Zhao Zejun dared not guess.

A man whose net worth was measured in billions had a completely different concept of money compared to him. Perhaps the man genuinely regarded longevity as a grand, noble cause.

If that endeavor actually succeeded, even if it took just a single tiny step forward, it would undoubtedly be a monumental feat worthy of going down in history books!

Hard to say. A few centuries ago, who would dare imagine humans flying into the skies and plunging into the seas? Those were just myths and legends, yet a few centuries later...

What the hell, what was he even daydreaming about?! At this rate, he wasn't far from being completely hoodwinked by Old Niu.

First, he called Zheng Yuan to offer New Year greetings. Zheng Yuan was back in his hometown, a county under Yijiang City, where the roar of firecrackers drowned out all conversation. After exchanging a few auspicious remarks, Zhao Zejun dialed Wang Yan's number.

"I'm gambling in Macau. Interested in catching a flight over for some fun?" Wang Yan laughed heartily. "There are a few Russian bastards at my table—brainless and loaded."

"I'm at home keeping my parents company." Zhao Zejun actually wouldn't have minded seeing the world; if Wang Yan had given him a heads-up beforehand, he might have actually gone.

"You're blessed. I don't even have parents left to keep company, nowhere to go," Wang Yan said quietly.

Zhao Zejun had heard the story from Wang Yan: back in the year he was born, his father had led a military detachment to break through the McMahon Line and exchange fire with the Indian forces. During a frontline charge, his father stepped on a Soviet-made landmine, instantly losing everything from the waist down.

His mother, who worked at a military region hospital, raised him until he was sixteen before she too passed away from cancer. Later, with the help of his father's old comrades, Wang Yan enlisted in the army.

"Brother Wang, then let's wish you clean out those Russians down to their last pair of underwear!" Zhao Zejun laughed.

"Good, it's a deal!" Wang Yan chuckled.

He called Old Niu next. The phone rang for a long time before someone picked up, and Old Niu's booming, thick local accent blasted through the receiver: "Who is it?!"

Zhao Zejun's face darkened. Turns out he had shelled out three hundred thousand yuan, and his name hadn't even earned a spot in Old Niu's contacts.

"Director Niu, it's little Zhao."

"Zhao... Oh, oh, oh, right! That kid from USTC... Zhao what's-his-name? Zhao Junjun?"

Speechless, Zhao Zejun replied in depression, "Zhao Zejun."

"Same difference. I'm telling you, how come you vanished the moment you forked over the money, not paying attention at all? When do you have time? I'll take you down to the pharmaceutical plant for a tour, let you witness some real high technology!"

"With you leading the charge, Director Niu, how could I have any worries?" Zhao Zejun laughed. "I started a small website myself and I've been too busy lately. Once the New Year celebrations are over, would you spare some time to take me for a look?"

"You youngsters, always failing to focus on proper business, obsessed with all those flashy, substance-less gimmicks! Can a website compare to a pharmaceutical plant? Alright, crawl over here once the New Year holiday is over!"

Zhao Zejun had truly surrendered to Old Niu!

What the fuck—in the twenty-first century, he was running an internet economy business only to be scolded as flashy and substance-less, while his own goddamn pursuit of an immortality elixir counted as the righteous path of high technology?!

These coal barons had way too much time on their hands.

He surrendered; he surrendered completely.

...

Just as he finished the string of phone calls, a text message suddenly arrived.

Thinking it was just a forwarded New Year greeting, he opened it: "Happy New Year! Asleep yet?" Followed by a signature, exactly ten characters in total.

The sender was Zhou Yuanyuan.

Zhao Zejun had nearly forgotten about this future minor celebrity. He casually replied: 'Wishing you a happy New Year too, and hoping you become a big star soon.'

Scarcely had the message sent when Zhou Yuanyuan's call came through.

Feeling slightly surprised, he answered it anyway, "Hello, beautiful, happy New Year."

"I hope I'm not interrupting your rest?" Zhou Yuanyuan's voice sounded somewhat husky.

"Not at all. It's the New Year, firecrackers are going off everywhere."

"I figured you'd completely forgotten about me. I've been in Jianwu City for half a year and you haven't contacted me once. I wanted to treat you to dinner to thank you for writing that song for me, but I never even got the chance," Zhou Yuanyuan joked.

That was a tricky conversational hook for Zhao Zejun to catch. They had never had much of a connection to begin with; it had all stemmed from Xia Yubing. Now that Xia Yubing had vanished from his life, what business did he have staying in touch with Zhou Yuanyuan?

After a brief pause, he asked, "How has Xia Yubing been lately?"

"Just like I thought. In you, talented Mr. Zhao's eyes, there's only Bingbing; how could you possibly remember anyone else?"

"No, it's just that ever since graduation, there hasn't been any news of her. She vanished into thin air," Zhao Zejun said.

"I'm just kidding. Bingbing is doing quite well now, you know. The guys chasing her could form a reinforced platoon!"

On the other end of the line, the corners of Zhou Yuanyuan's lips lifted slightly.

Calling Zhao Zejun, the topic of Xia Yubing was bound to come up.

Yet she knew precisely how to handle it: enough to keep the two of them from ever getting back together, yet without casting herself as the villain. She promptly added, "Do you want me to give you her new phone number so you can chat with her yourself and maybe play the advisor for her?"

"No need for that."

"Oh right, there's one more thing. I was hoping to ask you for a favor, talented sir," Zhou Yuanyuan continued seamlessly.

"Don't tell me it's writing another song?" Zhao Zejun chuckled.

"Heehee, you guessed it."

Zhou Yuanyuan was graduating this year, and her graduation project was a youth motivational short film centered on college girls. She needed a fitting theme song. Having rejected numerous selections because none satisfied her, she naturally remembered Zhao Zejun, the man who had 'composed' for Miss Xia back in the day.

"I know you're busy, and I really felt bad about bothering you, but this is my graduation project—it's simply too important. You know how it is with shorts like this: the content isn't overly complex. If there's a catchy, emotionally resonant theme song, it can drastically boost the impression score and cover up a multitude of flaws."

"Fine then, I'll give it a try. When do you need it?"

"Well, I'm heading to Yijiang City. Let's meet in person and I can walk you through the plot details so it's easier for you to write the song."

"I'm staying in Jianwu City for the Spring Festival," Zhao Zejun said.

"What a coincidence, so am I! How about whenever you have some free time, you drop by our campus? I've got a ready-to-use recording studio right here."

"That works too. I'll give you a call when I have time."

"Great, I'll be waiting."