Start by Spending One Billion [Entertainment Industry]-Chapter 92

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 achievements, she welcomed them wholeheartedly. Those who preferred other research institutes or government positions? She let them go without hesitation.

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

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

Some 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 met her face-to-face. But that didn’t stop them from respecting her.

At the very least, Gu Zhao had mentioned to Sheng Quan that since she began backing research, Starlight Entertainment’s government-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 time Sheng Quan visited the campus, students would greet her with cries of "Senior!" The moment her distinctive helicopter was spotted, the school’s group chats would buzz with excitement. 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 lunchtime at the institute, and most students paused mid-meal or crowded by the windows at the commotion.

"So cool…"

No matter how many times they saw it, someone 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 excitement as she hurried forward, firing questions at the assistant jogging to meet 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 dreamed of a world where full dive VR existed. In her past life, Sheng Quan had often joked, "Just let me 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 immersive than regular VR. Even the best VR gaming rig Sheng Quan used now still felt clunky at times.

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, medical 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 immersive 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 time, 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 moment he made his first small breakthrough, covering every aspect of his life and work. He even had a nutritionist planning his meals.

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 time.

And now, all she could think was: Let me at it! Let me 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 cameras here. The security company had stationed over a dozen guards along these two corridors alone, working in shifts around the clock.

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

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

After successfully entering three layers of passwords, the heavy door swung open, and Sheng Quan’s eyes immediately 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 time to visit him during her trips to the research institute (mostly to ensure he was in good health).

But come 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 excitement.

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 frame 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 time, 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 time?!"

Ning Zhou gave a small nod. He didn’t smile, but his posture relaxed noticeably, shedding the cold detachment 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 equipment.

But the first thing Sheng Quan said when she flew in was: "Ning Zhou, have you been skipping meals 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 someone 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 meals, he would always carefully pick up a bite of food, unhurriedly lower his long lashes, and blow on it—once, twice… four times. Only after exactly four blows would he finally place the food in his mouth, chewing with deliberate focus before swallowing. In these moments, 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 lifetime’s worth of praise onto Ning Zhou. After showering him with enthusiastic compliments, 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 timeline. But scientific research wasn’t something 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 development 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 somewhat 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 meant, 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 someone here who might need protection with… firearms."