Maybe for ordinary people, virtual coins meant everything. They were the digital ghosts of the pre-apocalypse RMB, representing every form of value left in a crumbling world. With enough of them, you couldn't buy a bowl of rice, a few steamed buns, or even a bag of discontinued snacks that had long since expired but still tasted like the old world. You couldn't use them to secure daily supplies, purchase a small house, or even pull the right strings to buy yourself a secure government job.
But for those living at the top of the food chain during the apocalypse, what did virtual coins really mean? You couldn't buy extinct livestock with them. You couldn't trade them for supplies that no longer existed on any shelf. You couldn't use them to acquire rare fuel or natural gas for your daily life. To the people in this room, virtual coins were just numbers flickering on a screen, completely useless and devoid of weight.
Forget those people; even for Jing Shu, virtual coins didn't matter in the slightest. She had never cared about them, nor did she rely on them for her survival.
She snorted softly to herself, the sound lost in the amber glow of the bar. It wasn't that she didn't care about virtual coins; it's simply that she didn't have any. She wasn't only broke; she actually owed the government over a million in virtual coins. However, the internal self-run coins from the Red Nematode Factory were a different story. She had plenty of those stored away. She supposed those counted as a form of virtual currency, at least within her own circles.
So, no one in this private bar cared about those so-called two hundred thousand virtual coins. Even if the sum was split among them, how much would each person actually receive? It wasn't even as valuable as a single harvest of Shiyuan's fresh vegetables and fruits. There's no need to think twice to know which one held the true worth.
"I'm not trading!" one man shouted, his face reddening as he leaned over the counter.
"We aren't giving it up!" another added, his voice rising over the quiet hum of the ventilation.
"I disagree too! If nothing else, we don't want those useless virtual coins!"
"We can't just hand over the second phase of Shiyuan," a woman said, her voice sharp. "This time it's the second phase. What is next? Our lifeblood? Don't forget, we invested every bit of what we had into that construction."
The room was filled with immediate, visceral outrage. Everyone shared the same stance. No one agreed to give away the second phase of Shiyuan so easily, especially since that section had been built using expensive labor hired directly from the government. If they had built it themselves using Shiyuan's own internal workers, the costs would have been a third—or even less.
Jing Shu frowned slightly, her gaze drifting to the dark red liquid in her glass, but she didn't say anything yet.
Qian Duoduo tapped the polished wooden table a few times, the rhythmic sound drawing their attention back to the center. He turned toward the man who had once received a helicopter from him. "Lao Xu, what do you think?"
Lao Xu straightened his back, adjusting his collar as he asked carefully, "Did they say what happens if we refuse? What is the consequence?"
The bar went silent. The clink of ice against glass stopped. Everyone turned toward Qian Duoduo, listening with rapt intensity.
He thought for a moment, his fingers tracing the edge of his glass. "They didn't say much, just that Wu City is in real trouble this time. They want us to think it over carefully."
A man snorted, the sound echoing in the wide hall. "When has Wu City not been in real trouble? Last month, the month before that—it was always the same story. They are always short on food. How much have we already sent up from Shiyuan? We give them a cut of our production every single day. Isn't that enough to satisfy them?"
Lao Xu shook his head slowly, his expression grim. "That sounds like a threat to me."
Qian Duoduo nodded, his face shadowed by the dim lighting. "Yeah. If we refuse, they might just take it by force."
That statement made everyone exchange uneasy, darting looks. The heavy scent of expensive liquor suddenly felt stifling. Someone spoke up, their voice trembling slightly. "Have you all forgotten what happened when the apocalypse first hit? Those big factories that refused to hand over their supplies for centralized management—what happened to them?"
Lao Xu looked toward the head of the table. "Mr. Qian, is this coming from Jin Tianci himself? Given your relationship, I doubt he would treat us this way."
Qian Duoduo sighed, a heavy sound that seemed to age him. "Yeah, it's his idea. I hate to say it, but it is. Word is, he is getting transferred back to the capital. Before he leaves, he wants to smooth things out for his successor. This is his last dirty job before he goes."
Jing Shu's eyelid twitched. "What? Jin Tianci was leaving?" In her previous life, he had died of illness in the third year, and the Tyrant had taken over the year after that. But this time, he wasn't dead; he was being transferred?
When Qian Duoduo glanced over, he caught her sipping quietly from her wine. His eyes lit up with a sudden, sharp interest. "Jing Shu, what do you think?"
All eyes turned to her. A low murmur rippled through the room. Everyone knew her shares had been gifted by Qian Duoduo himself—not once, but twice. The second time had been after she returned from America with an entire vegetable dehydration system, a feat that had solidified her standing among them.
"Me?" She raised a brow, then sighed at his expectant look. She couldn't help but feel the weight of their scrutiny pressing in on her.
Qian Duoduo wasn't stupid. Far from it. He understood the situation perfectly. But understanding a problem didn't always mean he could act on the solution. It was like knowing smoking was bad for your lungs but still lighting up a cigarette. He saw the truth clearly, yet he still hesitated.
Giving up the second phase of Shiyuan didn't just mean losing property. It meant losing his ambition, his hope, and the very platform that could have carried him further in this new world.
"I think we should give the second phase of Shiyuan to the government," she said calmly, her voice steady and clear.
The room erupted instantly.
"Why should we hand it over?" a shareholder yelled, standing up so quickly his chair scraped harshly against the floor.
"Do you know how much food we will lose by doing that?"
"We were planning to create a complete ecosystem there, with large breeding farms and cultivation rooms! We were going to stockpile tons of food and materials. If we give that up, all of it is gone!"
Qian Duoduo raised his hand, signaling for silence. The room gradually quieted, though the tension remained thick. "Oh? Why is that? Tell us how you see it. What good would it do us to hand it over?"
Jing Shu tapped her cup's rim, deep in thought as she formulated her response.
She felt Qian Duoduo had made a mistake before. For instance, he had given away huge amounts of supplies for free, constantly donating to the government and ensuring he showed up on Wu City's power rankings every single month. With his wealth, his vast resources, and Shiyuan's reputation as the last paradise in the apocalypse, he had drawn far too much attention to himself.
Even if he kept making tributes, so what?
He knew it himself; he was a fat sheep, even if he was one with connections to the capital. But maybe he had been wrong from the start, thinking that if he just kept growing stronger and fatter while handing over a little meat now and then, they would never dare to slaughter him completely.
Reality said otherwise.
Jing Shu finally spoke, her voice cutting through the remaining murmurs. "We should give the second phase to the government, but not the way they want it. We will give it on our terms. The second phase can really go to them, but how we give it and under what conditions—that's up to us."
Someone scoffed from across the bar. "Even if we set conditions, what is the point? Say we do it your way. So what if the management team is made up of our people? Those thousands of workers they will 'send over' will still be theirs. The output will still be theirs. What do we get out of it? You think you can make them agree that everything produced still belongs to us?"
"Exactly! The land itself isn't what is valuable—it's what comes after. The food, the materials, all that production. You think the government doesn't want that? That's the whole reason they are taking it! How couldn't they ever agree to your terms?"
Jing Shu smiled faintly.
Sometimes, you couldn't just stare at what was right in front of you. There were deeper benefits hidden underneath the surface.
Most importantly, everyone's interests weren't perfectly aligned. Like the great man once said, seek common ground while setting aside differences.