Chapter 0599: Beijing Story

Fan Baobao, who had resolved to ignore Zhao Fusheng for four hours, couldn't even hold out for forty minutes. In less than half an hour, she happily sidled up to him, took his arm, and sat down on the sofa.

“Are you really going to stay here for three months?” Fan Baobao asked Zhao Fusheng with a delighted expression.

When Zhao Fusheng had just told her he planned to stay in Beijing for three months, she thought he was joking. She never expected it to be true.

Zhao Fusheng nodded. “I took leave from my internship. There’s nothing much going on lately, and the company needs me here in Beijing to handle some matters.”

At Hongqi Middle School, Wang Xiaorong, after Zhao Fusheng repeatedly interrupted her meetings with Li Bo and learned that Li Bo was about to be transferred, would make her own choice. Zhao Fusheng no longer cared.

He wasn’t a god, nor did he have such great power. He couldn’t force others by the neck to choose how to live.

Putting the choice before them—whether it was right or wrong—was their own business.

As for whether that fire would still happen, Zhao Fusheng didn’t know. Before leaving school, he had told Sun Qingfeng that the school’s electrical wiring was old and should be checked sometime.

He had done what he could. Do your best and leave the rest to fate.

“Great! Then I’ll move in tomorrow,” Fan Baobao said happily.

Zhou Yun lived in the dormitory. Wang Qiang had taken a job as a martial arts stunt double and would be in Hengdian for the next month or so. As for the apartment they had rented before, the landlord was reportedly coming back in a few years, so he had rented it to them at a very cheap price.

Of course, that was what Zhao Fusheng said. He wouldn’t tell Fan Baobao that he had already bought the apartment.

“Sure, as you like.” Zhao Fusheng gently pinched Fan Baobao’s cheek and smiled.

People are always forgetful, so after walking a stretch of life’s journey, they inevitably stop to sort out their gains and losses, rights and wrongs.

If it turns out they have gained more than they lost, proving they haven’t wasted their previous life, they eagerly prepare for the next leg of the journey.

Of course, if it turns out they have gained less than they lost, it means their previous days were lived in vain. So sometimes we wish we could live again to make up for those missed regrets.

But unfortunately, the one medicine that has never been invented in this world is the medicine for regret.

That’s why many people stamp their feet and beat their chests, cursing themselves bitterly.

Zhao Fusheng had long passed the age for that. What he considered now was how to make himself stronger.

Yu Feihong’s foundation, though criticized by many, had invisibly drawn a group of people together. Or rather, those who were truly willing to donate hundreds of thousands for charity—none of them were easy marks in this circle.

No matter the time, people who are beneficial to others, or who can bring benefits to others, always quickly integrate into a group and form a circle.

It was like Zhao Fusheng now. Without his realizing it, a small circle had already formed around him.

Seeing that Zhao Fusheng seemed preoccupied, Fan Baobao didn’t say much more. After chatting for a while about recent events, she went back to school to pack her things. Since the two places were close, she didn’t need Zhao Fusheng’s help.

Watching Fan Baobao leave, Zhao Fusheng sat in the living room, frowning deeply, thinking about where he should focus next.

They say that without long-term worries, one will have immediate concerns. Zhao Fusheng wasn’t that bad off. After all, bearing the title of a reborn person, he had casually sown some seeds that, given time to take root and sprout, would be enough for his family’s needs for the rest of their lives.

The only thing to consider now was how to make himself more powerful. This power wasn’t physical, but influence.

Although Zhao Fusheng yearned for the life described in Haizi’s poem, unfortunately, he knew he was destined never to live that kind of life.

From today, be a noble person; from today, be a pure person; from today, be a person without great ambitions; from today, be a person who muddles along waiting for death, facing the sea, with spring blossoms.

Zhao Fusheng thought of a doggerel poem someone in the dorm had written, and a smile crept onto his lips.

He dialed Dong Chenxi’s phone and asked, “How’s the company doing lately?”

“Are you asking about Beijing or the Binzhou headquarters?” Dong Chenxi paused, then asked back.

“Whichever you want to tell me about,” Zhao Fusheng said indifferently.

Though reluctant to admit it, Zhao Fusheng had to say that when a person’s body becomes younger, their mind seems to become younger too. Despite his psychological age being decades old, he was now acting more and more like a young man in his early twenties.

Perhaps it was a matter of mindset.

Some people, even at seventy, are still optimistic and cheerful, thinking every day about how to live more happily. Others, even in their early twenties, sigh all day long with furrowed brows.

“No major changes. General Zheng said we don’t need to keep expanding anymore; we need to digest the resources we’ve already acquired,” Dong Chenxi said slowly. “In Beijing, we’re already working on the deal you landed last time.”

Zhao Fusheng nodded. That’s how advertising agencies worked: three years without a deal, then one deal feeds you for three years—similar to the antique trade.

Cases like Future Advertising were too rare: landing big deals one after another within a year, quickly building a reputation, and rising in the industry at a speed that was textbook legendary.

After all, not every company had a powerhouse like Zhao Fusheng.

“By the way, in Beijing, a few companies want to discuss cooperation with us,” Dong Chenxi suddenly remembered something and said to Zhao Fusheng.

“Cooperation?” Zhao Fusheng frowned, puzzled.

“It’s like this: those companies heard about our reputation and want us to help promote their products,” Dong Chenxi explained.

“Promote products? What do you mean?” Zhao Fusheng was baffled, not understanding what Dong Chenxi was talking about.

“They want us to help with planning,” Dong Chenxi explained patiently. “They’re all health product companies. They want us to find some celebrities to shoot promotional videos and ads.”

“Heh…” Zhao Fusheng let out a cold laugh.

A long time ago, he had settled on one thing: he would rather trust the government than believe that businessmen have a conscience. Because for the sake of profit, those guys would do anything. Without state regulation, Zhao Fusheng was sure that no so-called entrepreneur would have any sense of social responsibility.

For businessmen to talk about morality and conscience—what difference was that from telling a joke?