Yang Rui sat stiffly in front of his computer, eyes locked on the screen. Just beside it, a small desk clock ticked toward 9:58 AM.
Two minutes left until the official release of the Marching Ant Company's holographic projector.
He'd watched the product launch livestream and was completely sold—this was technology straight out of a science fiction film. The realism, the immersion... It was leagues above any ordinary television.
He had to get one.
Even though he knew millions would flood the official store the moment sales opened, he still wanted to try. A machine like this? Even if he didn't need it, he could easily flip it for a profit.
Yang Rui glanced at the second hand slowly crawling forward. Each tick felt like torture.
He opened the Marching Ant official mall and hovered his cursor over the projector's product page. His plan was simple: the moment the button lit up, click, add to cart, pay. With more than 20 years of "mouse-fu" under his belt, he was confident.
He took a deep breath.
He wasn't alone.
Across the country—hell, across the world—millions were sitting in front of their screens, just like Yang Rui, ready to snag a unit of the highly anticipated Yǐngyǐng holographic projector.
Even people who didn't really need one joined the frenzy—just grabbing a unit to resell could earn a quick profit. The hype was real.
10… 9… 8… 3… 2… 1…
Go.
At exactly 10:00 AM, the Marching Ant Company's online store opened the purchase link.
Yang Rui's fingers moved like lightning—click, buy, pay!
Payment failed. Inventory unavailable.
"What the hell?!"
Yang Rui cursed aloud. He double-checked. His entire operation had taken less than 10 seconds. The company had announced 30,000 units for today's launch. Gone in ten seconds?
"Did they lie? Was it 3,000 instead of 30,000?"
He was stunned.
And he wasn't the only one.
Forums and social media immediately blew up.
"No way they actually released 30,000 units. They were gone in seconds!"
"I've been single for over 20 years. My mouse-clicking speed is elite… and still failed!"
"I'll pay 60,000! Who's willing to sell theirs?"
"I'll offer 62,000. I need this thing!"
"This buying rush showed me something important—we are surrounded by local rich people."
And on it went.
The ones lucky enough to grab a unit? Showing off.
Those who didn't? Furious, or upping their offers.
Within minutes, the resale price had already shot up to 80,000 yuan.
In just ten seconds, Marching Ant Company had sold 30,000 holographic projectors, raking in 1.7 billion yuan in revenue. That's seventeen small targets, as they say. The sheer speed and scale of the sale left the media in awe.
"This is how you print money," someone murmured, watching the news scroll in real time.
The frenzy hadn't slowed down—everyone was now watching Marching Ant's next move. As soon as those projectors shipped, the world would get its first real taste of this epoch-making product.
At the company, Zhao Min walked into Building One with a satisfied smile, a thick file folder under her arm.
The sales data was overwhelming, and the entire Marching Ant Company was riding the wave of excitement. Holographic projectors weren't just a success—they were a phenomenon.
Unlike smart robots, which were still a luxury reserved for the ultra-wealthy, the projector had broader appeal—upper-middle-class consumers, tech enthusiasts, professionals. It was affordable enough to enter the mainstream, and the market was enormous.
She entered the lab and handed the document to Chen Mo, who was reviewing design plans.
The document outlined a delivery: ten full containers of high-grade equipment and parts worth 500 million yuan, which had just been delivered to Building Two.
"The equipment you asked for has been delivered. What's your plan next?" Zhao Min asked.
She already had a hunch.
Chen Mo wasn't just working on projectors—he was preparing for the next revolution: the holographic mobile phone.
The hype around the projector was enormous. Once a holographic phone was unveiled, the response would be even more insane.
Chen Mo glanced through the document and placed it aside.
"Next? I'm going to rebuild the machines."
"By yourself?" Zhao Min frowned.
Ten containers of industrial equipment… and Chen Mo wanted to modify it all alone?
Even with Marching Ant's best engineers, it'd take at least a year, not weeks.
"Correction: I'm not the one doing the work."
Zhao Min raised an eyebrow.
"Then who? Wait… don't tell me…" Her eyes narrowed. "You're letting the robots rebuild the machines?"
She wasn't stupid.
The entire First Building was filled with advanced robotic systems. She'd seen robots doing everything from chip printing to surgical simulations.
With Chen Mo's advanced AI—Mo Nu—running the show, it wasn't far-fetched.
Chen Mo smiled.
"Not bad. Come, I'll show you the new toys I've prepared."
He gestured for her to follow.
"By the way, how are sales?" he asked casually as they walked.
"Gone in under ten seconds. Thirty thousand units, all sold out. People are furious they couldn't buy. Our poor customer service team has been dealing with nonstop complaints," Zhao Min said with a laugh.
"The new production lines should be done in a few days. Once we double the output, it'll stabilize."
And that was just the beginning.
Movie studios had already contacted them, hoping to discuss building holographic theaters.
On the European side, Roche Group wanted to secure distribution rights for the projector across Europe.
And then there was the holographic phone. Zhao Min would handle those negotiations—but Chen Mo needed to stay in the loop.
Soon, the two arrived at the entrance of the third floor in Building One.
Chen Mo gestured toward the door.
"This is the main force behind the holographic phone's production."
Zhao Min stepped in—and froze.
Inside, hundreds of robots stood in perfect rows. Every shape and size—from human-sized bipedal units to spider-like multi-armed bots. Some fit in the palm of your hand. Others towered with mechanical grace.
The shelves and workstations were packed with active bots. They weren't idle. They were alive—moving, analyzing, running simulations.
Zhao Min's breath caught in her throat.
This wasn't a lab. This was a robotic army.
She'd seen plenty of advanced machines before, but never like this. Never so many. Never so refined.
Chen Mo calmly explained:
"These are our Gen 2.5 robots—high-flexibility task units.
They're built with room-temperature superconducting cores, meaning low energy use and high processing speed.
They'll be handling the machine retrofitting and mass production of the holographic phones."
Zhao Min finally found her voice.
"You're not building just phones, Chen Mo... You're building the future."