The next afternoon, the city's spring breeze carried the scent of magnolia blossoms, dancing between sunbeams and crowded café patios.
Inside a quiet Italian bistro just off campus, Lin Feng sat across from Guo Yuwei. The place was a hidden gem—no flashy sign, no influencer buzz. Just polished wood, soft piano music, and the warm aroma of garlic and truffle oil.
Yuwei looked… hesitant. Her hands kept fidgeting with the edge of the napkin. "You didn't have to treat me to lunch just because I helped introduce you at the event."
"I didn't," Lin Feng said calmly, twirling his fork through a bite of pasta. "I wanted to thank you before things get complicated."
She blinked. "Complicated?"
"You haven't heard?" Lin Feng's eyes glinted with that signature quiet confidence. "There's an investment simulation scheduled tonight. The elite circle's idea of a friendly contest."
Her brows rose. "And you're joining?"
"I wasn't invited," he said, setting down his fork, "but apparently, I'm the main character."
Yuwei laughed under her breath, her earlier tension slipping just a little. "I should've guessed. The forum's been buzzing with theories. Some people think you're a government-backed prince. Others think you hacked the university's financial system."
"Both wrong," Lin Feng said, sipping his water. "But I do like the creativity."
She tilted her head, studying him for a moment. "You're not worried about losing?"
"I don't play to win," he replied. "I play to shift the board."
By the time the sun dipped low, casting golden shadows across the academy's south lawn, a different kind of buzz had taken hold. The Goldleaf Simulation Room, normally used for finance majors and strategic training, had been quietly reserved—and upgraded.
Luo Zixuan was already inside, standing beside Miss Zhou, who wore a crisp white pantsuit and a look of icy detachment. Her arrival had created a stir even among the upper circle—not just because of her beauty, but because of her background.
Zhou Qian.
Top graduate of Stanford's simulation program.
Interned at Tianmu Holdings.
Known as the "Ice Strategist" in the private circuit.
She didn't shake hands. Didn't smile. She simply nodded at Luo Zixuan and said, "He's coming?"
Zixuan sneered. "He'll come. He always does."
Fifteen minutes later, Lin Feng stepped into the simulation room.
No entourage. No nerves. Just that same matte-black minimalist look and the sharp calm that unsettled people without him saying a word.
The room had been transformed—multiple digital monitors, real-time stock feeds, and custom datasets generated for the challenge. Each participant would be handed a randomized scenario simulating a real-world investment crisis.
Zhou Qian turned, arms crossed. "You're late."
Lin Feng raised an eyebrow. "Didn't realize the simulation clock counted minutes before it started."
Zixuan stepped forward. "This isn't some charity gala, Lin Feng. You're walking into our domain now."
"Relax," Lin Feng said smoothly. "I didn't come to impress anyone. I came to play."
In the observation gallery above, a few familiar faces had gathered. Jiang Yue'er sat quietly in the corner, trying not to show concern. Zhao Rouran stood near the glass, arms folded, watching the unfolding drama like a chessboard.
Guo Yuwei had shown up late, slipping in with a sketchpad in her hand—sketching when she was nervous was her habit.
Zhou Qian handed Lin Feng a tablet. "Simulation rules: You have thirty minutes to stabilize an international startup's collapse scenario. Target sectors: logistics and biotech. No AI assistance. No second tries."
Lin Feng scanned the screen once, then looked up. "Seems fun."
"You'll be judged on return value, asset growth, and influence exerted on competitors," she added.
He smirked. "Influence is my specialty."