According to the agenda, the conference was scheduled to officially begin at nine o’clock, but by eight-fifty, people were still streaming in one after another.

Zhu Yun looked out toward the main hall. Beyond the security checkpoint, there was a sea of people.

The delay dragged on until past nine-twenty before the emcee finally took the stage to test the microphone.

The overhead lights dimmed, and everyone’s attention shifted to the front of the room, where the crowd stirred with excitement. Zhu Yun looked over and saw several invited guests being ushered in by staff members. She spotted Gao Jianhong and Fang Zhijing right away in the center of the group. Both men were dressed in formal attire. Gao Jianhong took his seat first, while Fang Zhijing went straight to the back and whispered with the emcee who had just stepped off the stage, though what they were saying was unclear.

Someone on stage was delivering a speech, but the lighting was too bright to make out any faces.

Zhu Yun was sitting far from the front. She looked around and noticed that the seating arrangement was rather clever. The entire venue was divided into three sections: the front row, reserved for guests, had only two rows of seats; the middle section was mostly occupied by media personnel and representatives from large companies, and wasn’t particularly crowded; the back was a vast ocean of small and medium-sized enterprises. With so many people, as far as the eye could see, nearly everyone was in their mid-twenties, and every face radiated energy and ambition.

The girl sitting beside Zhu Yun took the initiative to greet her, her voice soft and timid.

“Hello…”

Zhu Yun turned. The girl was slender and slight, with a youthful face that hadn’t quite shed its girlishness — she looked like she had just graduated from university. With some embarrassment, she reached into her bag and handed Zhu Yun a business card.

Chaoyang Network Technology Co., Ltd. — Operations and Promotions Specialist, Hong Xiaowei.

“Hello…” Hong Xiaowei greeted her again. Zhu Yun said, “I don’t have a business card.”

“Oh, okay — well, what do you do, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Zhu Yun thought for a moment. “Programmer.”

Hong Xiaowei’s eyes lit up with understanding, and she went on to tell Zhu Yun about her company, even pulling out their mobile app for her to see. The app was called “Xiaoqian Part-Time,” and it was designed to help university students find part-time work.

“You’re a programmer — do you think there’s anything we could improve about our software?” Hong Xiaowei asked timidly.

Zhu Yun took her phone and used the app for a few minutes. “The features could be more refined. Right now it only has basic job listings and contact information. You could also add a value assessment for each job.”

“Oh, I see…”

“The software currently only lets users search for jobs on their own. You could add an intelligent recommendation feature based on each user’s strengths and advantages. Has your backend database been recording users’ search history?”

“Huh?”

Hong Xiaowei looked startled. “No,” she said nervously.

“That’s a bit of a missed opportunity,” said Zhu Yun. “Real user data is an incredibly valuable resource. You need to understand each user’s needs in the shortest amount of time possible.”

“I’m sorry.” Hong Xiaowei slowly lowered her head, and actually began to apologize.

Zhu Yun caught herself and said awkwardly, “Oh, it’s fine — you can build it up gradually. The core idea behind this app is solid, and there’s plenty of market demand.”

Hong Xiaowei finally recovered some of her spirit. She smiled at Zhu Yun and said, “You’re amazing — way better than our own programmer.”

“How many programmers does your company have?” Zhu Yun asked.

“One.”

“…”

Hong Xiaowei blushed again. “Our whole company is only seven people.”

Zhu Yun said, “So who’s ‘Xiaoqian’?”

Hong Xiaowei replied, “My boyfriend — he’s the programmer.”

Zhu Yun laughed. Hong Xiaowei, red-faced, said, “We literally just graduated today. He wanted to start a company, so I came along with him.”

“That’s great,” Zhu Yun said, nodding.

Hong Xiaowei’s lips curved into a smile. “It was really tough at the start, but things are slowly getting on track. Our app already has over three thousand registered users, and just last week an advertiser reached out to us.”

“Take it one step at a time,” said Zhu Yun. “No need to rush.”

A head suddenly popped up beside her.

Zhu Yun startled, then realized it was just someone who had bent himself almost completely in half. Zhu Yun was seated near the aisle, and this person, clutching a large stack of business cards, was bowing deeply as he made his way from person to person, handing them out. He wasn’t very old either — if anything, he seemed even more bashful than Hong Xiaowei, and clearly had trouble speaking. He could barely get out the name of his own company.

“…Are you a programmer? Our company is currently hiring programmers,” he said quietly.

Zhu Yun looked at his card. Feiyang Network Co., Ltd. — Art Director, Guo Shijie.

“Even your art director is out recruiting?” Zhu Yun asked.

Guo Shijie turned red.

“We’re… short-handed…”

On stage, someone was delivering an opening address — a leader from the State Internet Information Office. After a lengthy speech, the emcee took the stage to summarize, then welcomed the next official up to speak.

Not a single person in the audience was listening.

That was just the nature of this industry. Everyone preferred substance over ceremony, and the younger generation had no patience for old formalities. People were all like Hong Xiaowei and Guo Shijie — they’d rather squeeze out a moment to hand out one more business card.

It was a wonderful era.

In earlier years, if you wanted to start a company, you could never accumulate enough capital, public relations contacts, or professional networks. But now, in this hall of a thousand people, at least eight hundred of them were under twenty-five. Every single one of them radiated confidence.

Not everyone would make it to the end. But at the very least, this era had given them a chance.

Three people, two people, or even one — if you seized the right opportunity and rode the wave of the times, a single product could be enough to launch you skyward and make you wealthy beyond measure.

A man walked past her.

All in black — black jacket, black trousers — with a lean, graceful build. Taking advantage of his height, he walked with a slight stoop, giving him an air of casual, unhurried ease.

The official on stage stepped down, and now it was time for the business representatives to speak. The first up was Jili Company.

As the spokesperson for a successful enterprise, Fang Zhijing attracted far more attention than the two figurehead officials before him. He spoke with passion and conviction, introducing his company, outlining Jili’s past achievements and its future direction, and expressing Jili’s desire to drive the entire industry forward.

His spirited presence made for a stark contrast with the languid silhouette that had just passed by.

This was a thriving era — and a dreamlike one. Heroes were emerging from obscurity like dragons rising from the deep, charging headlong into the wind, desperate to prove themselves through sheer ability.

Zhu Yun drew a slow, deep breath.

It wasn’t only the people in the back who weren’t listening to the speech. Even in the very front row, among the invited guests, Gao Jianhong had tuned out Fang Zhijing’s presentation entirely. His eyes were closed, his fingers pressed to his temples, quietly easing his fatigue.

The staff on either side were chatting about a newly released game. Their attention slipped — and a dark shadow drifted past them.

Li Xun, as casually as if he were walking back into his own home, strolled into the guest section and planted himself squarely in the seat reserved for the speakers on stage.

The staff scrambled to intercept him.

The moment Li Xun sat down, Gao Jianhong slowly opened his eyes. He didn’t turn his head — a single glance from the corner of his eye was enough to confirm who had arrived.

A staff member came over and said quietly, “Sir… do you have a guest invitation?”

Li Xun glanced at him. The look in his eyes could hardly be described as friendly, and the staff member, a young man, was visibly flustered by it. “Sir, if you don’t have an invitation…”

“I know him,” Gao Jianhong said flatly.

The staff member blinked. “Oh — alright then.”

He left. The two men sitting side by side said nothing to each other. The entire hall was lit only at the front; everywhere else was submerged in a dim blue-purple light that made the atmosphere feel even heavier.

Li Xun watched the speaker on stage without expression. As Fang Zhijing spoke, the large screen behind him cycled through promotional trailers for Jili’s newest games. At this release pace, Jili would dominate the download charts for at least the next two quarters.

“I’m asking you one more time,” Li Xun said in a low voice.

Gao Jianhong stared coldly ahead. “Ask as many times as you want — the answer won’t change.”

Li Xun said nothing, as if still giving him time to reconsider. Gao Jianhong’s expression grew icier and icier. He turned his head and couldn’t resist saying with contempt, “You didn’t used to be like this. What — a few years locked away and you’ve gone soft? Don’t try to scare me.”

Li Xun turned to look at him as well. There was a faint smile on his face — light, cold, and touched with an unsettling amusement.

“So you’ve decided to go up against me?”

The moment he met Li Xun’s casual, unhurried gaze, a nerve in Gao Jianhong’s left temporal lobe seared with a sudden, shooting pain — as if someone had dragged a needle across his scalp at blinding speed — and his left eye began to burn.

“Think carefully,” Li Xun said, his tone as relaxed as if he were commenting on how comfortable the chair beneath him was.

Gao Jianhong couldn’t stop his thoughts from drifting to the past.

Back then, his gaze had been exactly like this — never flinching, never looking away. He’d look at anything.

Back then, he hadn’t cared that he was just a green university student. He’d gathered a few rookie computer science students and taken on jobs of any scale, no matter how daunting. Now he didn’t care that he was someone who had been out of the industry for six years, completely alone — he would go up against companies of any size, no matter how formidable.

Gao Jianhong’s stomach turned.

What gave him such confidence?

“Well, well — who do we have here?”

While Gao Jianhong and Li Xun were talking, Fang Zhijing had already finished his speech. He had noticed Li Xun’s arrival while still on stage — his voice had faltered for a fraction of a second, but he’d quickly corrected himself. Even so, that brief stumble had left him deeply irritated, and he was determined to come back and reclaim some dignity.

“Where has the staff gone? How do random people just wander in here?” Fang Zhijing shot a look to the side. The staff member, sensing trouble, hurried over to explain. But Fang Zhijing didn’t give him the chance to speak — he launched into a sharp, scathing reprimand, and the young staff member stood there, unable to get a word in, quietly enduring it all.

Yet no matter how much commotion erupted nearby, neither Li Xun nor Gao Jianhong paid any attention.

Gao Jianhong found the headache increasingly unbearable. “Go,” he said in a low, hard voice.

Li Xun didn’t move. He seemed to be working up to something. After a long silence, he spoke quietly: “Gao Jianhong — this is the last time I’ll come to you. I’ll be direct.”

Gao Jianhong’s eyelid twitched again. “Get out of here already!” he snapped.

But he couldn’t command Li Xun. He never could.

His gaze drifted up involuntarily — and in that moment, what he saw made his blood run cold. This time, there truly was something like warmth in Li Xun’s eyes. In a flash, Zhu Yun’s words surfaced in his mind: You don’t know him at all. Li Xun is ruthless, but he’s not heartless.

Li Xun’s voice came out low and hoarse, as though he was forcing himself to lay down everything — his pride, his walls — and speak plainly:

“Gao Jianhong. Make him leave. I’ll give you the company.”