July 21st, 2128.
Seven o'clock in the morning.
The curtains in the hotel room were still half–drawn. Morning light squeezed in through the gap at an angle, laying a thin band of brightness across the carpet.
When Ethan woke up, his phone was lying quietly beside his pillow.
He reached for it. The screen lit up, several unread notifications popping out one after another: bank deposit alerts, an email from PineRiver Asset, a progress summary from Mason, and one message from his lawyer.
He opened the last one first.
9:00 a.m., XX Financial Center, 37th floor, Conference Room B.
I've invited a partner who specializes in high–net–worth asset planning to join us. — Lyle
"The planners are in place."
Ethan closed the message and lay there in silence for a few seconds.
According to the usual script, after confirming he'd won eight hundred million last night, the first thing he should be doing this morning was rushing to the lottery center and lining up.
He had no such urge.
In his last life, fate toyed with him.
In this life, he was going to toy with fate.
"No hurry to claim it."
"First, I need to build the shell that will hold the money."
He got up, washed, changed clothes. His movements were smooth and efficient.
In the mirror, the twenty–eight–year–old face was calm, almost too calm. The only thing that betrayed anything else was the depth at the bottom of his eyes—something a man his age shouldn't have had.
——
Before nine o'clock, he arrived at the XX Financial Center.
The lobby was quiet; the glass curtain wall swallowed all the city's sunlight.
The elevator rose all the way to the thirty–seventh floor. When the doors opened, it was into a sober, restrained law firm.
The receptionist confirmed his identity, then led him into a conference room.
Lyle was already inside, suit crisp, glasses thin–framed and neat. Next to him sat a young woman, looking very composed and very capable.
"Ethan," Lyle stood and shook his hand. "Let me give you a quick introduction. This is Zoe, dual–licensed financial planner and attorney, Harvard dual master's in finance and law, one of the top talents in her tier globally. Investment banks, Wall Street, top law firms, government, big multinationals—everyone competes to hire people like her. It's sheer luck I get to work with her, and I've managed to invite her here for you today."
Zoe smiled, polite but neither humble nor flattering.
"Lyle is exaggerating," she said. "But I have been briefed that you have a rather substantial income about to arrive. So first of all, congratulations, Mr. Ethan."
"Thank you," Ethan said, taking his seat. "Then I'll be straightforward—I won the lottery yesterday."
Zoe's hand, which had been flipping through documents, paused.
"What kind of lottery?" she asked.
"The Super Lotto. The grand prize."
He spoke lightly, as if describing the day's weather.
"Eight hundred million."
The conference room went quiet for a second.
Zoe re–examined him, more carefully this time.
"…That is quite a sum," she said.
"And that's why I didn't go to claim it today," Ethan replied. "I want to figure out first—how to make sure this money doesn't drag me into a spotlight I don't want."
Zoe smiled faintly. "That's very sensible."
Lyle joined in: "I did a quick check on the rules. There's a claim period; you don't have to go today. You have a few days' buffer. Anonymous claiming is workable—we just have to design the flow."
"Right," Ethan leaned back slightly in his chair. "But before that, I already have a general structure in mind. I'd like you two to help me make that structure more solid."
Zoe picked up her pen. "You start. I'll listen."
"I'm not planning to dump all the money into a bank trust and lock it away forever," Ethan said.
"And I'm not planning to parade around with eight hundred million, letting the whole world know I'm a walking ATM."
He spoke slowly but with an almost surgical clarity.
"Roughly, I'll split it into three pools."
"The first pool: two hundred million."
"I'll use it to trade stocks."
Zoe's brows moved the slightest bit.
"Putting that much directly into the stock market carries very high risk. Do you want our team to operate it for you?"
"For others, it's risk," Ethan said. "For me, it's opportunity. I absolutely trust your professional ability and instincts, but—"
He met her gaze.
"I am more accurate than your investment models on the trends for the next few years. So I'll be trading myself."
"In the coming year, the money in that pool will grow at a geometric rate from two hundred million. But every time I realize profits, I'll need you to help me take out portions under clean, tax–efficient structures that don't attract too much attention. The remaining capital—I'll keep investing. And from what's left, I'll carve out a chunk for you to manage fully, and your compensation will be… generous."
He said it very casually, as if he were simply stating a fact.
In Zoe's ears, it sounded almost arrogant—but the steadiness in his manner kept her from immediately refuting him.
She circled "200M" on her notes. "All right. Second pool?"
"The second pool: another two hundred million."
"For liquidity and buffer. For PineRiver Asset's operations, warehouse leases, goods procurement, salaries, and emergency reserves."
"This part is all outflow and no direct income. And as my investments yield returns, this pool will keep getting topped up. All expense, no apparent revenue—eventually, that pattern will attract scrutiny."
Lyle and Zoe exchanged a glance; this time, their shared look carried a hint of… complicated emotion.
Zoe said, "For this, we can create multiple accounts in different banks, plus a couple of separate investment sub–accounts. All fully compliant."
Ethan nodded.
"The third pool—everything that's left."
"I'm going to take down a building. I'll need your help drafting the contracts."
"What kind of building?" Zoe asked. "And what do you mean by 'take down'?"
"It's not very tall, but its structure is excellent. The foundations are solid, the location isn't showy but it's definitely not remote either."
Ethan's eyes darkened slightly, as if he were seeing that building as it would look ten years into the apocalypse.
"It's in Benmi District, across from Hollywood Plaza. A commercial building called PeachSpring One."
In his memory, that building had endured all ten years of the apocalypse. It never collapsed; even when the outside world was so cold that steel rebar split and acid rain came down in sheets, people could still survive inside. In his previous life, it was only because he'd been lucky enough to hole up there that he'd survived those nightmare weather cycles. The building had seven basement levels. Level B1 alone was at least five times the footprint of the ground floor, and each level down, it spread even wider—a strangely built underground structure.
"You want to buy it outright?" Lyle asked.
"No. I plan to talk to the owner about a twenty–year master lease. Rent paid annually."
Zoe thought for a moment. "In that area, even a twenty–story building like that wouldn't be too expensive to buy, given your capital. Renting for twenty years sounds less economical than buying. Even if you bought it, you wouldn't exhaust your funds."
"I insist on renting, not buying," Ethan said. "The money I'll put down now, apart from the deposit and first year's rent, will all go into renovations—heavy renovations. I want to rebuild it into a private building that meets all my needs."
"My home, all my leisure facilities, my company, my storage… even housing for my employees—all in there. I'll open a few floors to the public as well, with a supermarket, home goods, gym, and so on. In short, this initial money is nowhere near enough for what I want. My goal is to refit it into a building I could live in for the rest of my life without needing to step outside. The money I make elsewhere in future will also be poured into this building's renovations."
He did not utter the phrase "end–time shelter." Some things, if you tried to explain them now, would only make people think you were insane.
"In any case," he said, "that building is very important to me."
Lyle was honestly stunned. Yes, genuinely stunned.
He recovered himself. "If it's that important, and you're going to spend that much on it, you really don't want to buy it? Put that much into renovations and still not buy?"
"I don't like explaining myself," Ethan said calmly. "You only need to know that I'll take full responsibility for my choices. Just help me fulfill my requirements. Everyone's needs are different, so what they do and what they show is different. I trust both of your professionalism—and that you'll keep your mouths shut."
Zoe scribbled a few words: 20–year long lease + annual payment, plus first right of refusal.
"How about this," she said. "We draft an agreement for a twenty–year lease with rent paid annually, and add a clause granting you priority purchase rights?"
Ethan nodded. "Yes. Try to include that."
"Say I'm superstitious."
Zoe blinked. "Superstitious?"
"I've cast a few fortunes," Ethan said mildly. "That building is my 'feng shui point.' It's where my luck lies."
He spoke so quietly, but with such stubborn intensity, that it came across less as superstition and more as obsession.
Zoe looked at him and suddenly smiled. "I see."
By this point, Zoe's internal evaluation of this "lottery tycoon" had gone far beyond mere disdain. If it weren't for the face of "eight hundred million," and the fact that she had already fallen out with her family, she truly might have walked out right then.
The rest of the hour in the conference room was mostly Zoe at the whiteboard, drawing structures, listing accounts, and filling in details.
She split the two–hundred–million stock pool into a separate structure.
"I suggest we use both corporate and personal accounts," she said. "Even if you're confident in your ability to read the trends, try to avoid all–in bets."
"You give us the list of companies and sectors you're eyeing; we'll run a full risk review and deliver a report."
"No problem," Ethan nodded. "Once I see the report, I'll decide on positions."
Zoe suddenly remembered something and added, "But as far as I recall, PeachSpring One belongs to the Su family. If you know the Su family, you should know they're not short of cash. Asking them to clear all current tenants and lease the whole building only to you… that won't be easy."
"Is that so? The Su family?" Ethan's eyes lit up, genuine delight showing for the first time. "That's perfect. Please confirm it. If it is theirs, you just draft the contract—I'll negotiate personally."
He hadn't known PeachSpring One belonged to Summer's family. This saved him the trouble of finding an excuse to approach her again.
Zoe suppressed her contempt and simply said, "All right," without further comment.
The liquidity pool was then divided into several levels:
Operational accounts.
Payroll accounts.
Procurement accounts.
Reserve accounts.
Every renminbi would have a visible, legitimate destination, enough for tax authorities and auditors to examine at will.
As for the "renting a building" and related fixed–asset planning, Zoe proposed:
"We have PineRiver Asset sign the lease, not you personally. That keeps your individual profile low, and it turns the building into a corporate move instead of a personal one. If you really invest as heavily as you say in renovating the building, and if at some point you do decide to buy it, it will still be reasonable to present it as a dream asset you were willing to overspend on. And in case you someday want to dispose of it, it will also give you more flexibility."
"I won't buy it," Ethan said softly. "And I won't sell it."
I won't explain. Maybe one day you'll understand.
"What an idiot," Zoe thought. "How does someone like this get eight hundred million dropped on his head?"
——
The meeting wrapped up near eleven.
After Ethan left, the two lawyers finally allowed themselves to exchange the shock they'd been holding in.
Lyle had always had a good impression of Ethan. Now, he only thought Ethan had been "stunned silly" by eight hundred million, and might go back to normal after some time.
Zoe, by contrast, openly scoffed in her heart.
Lyle soon realized that, given what Ethan currently needed—concealed legal income, and structures for investments that technically couldn't exist—there wasn't actually much ongoing work for him to bill on. Little profit, not very interesting. Zoe alone could easily handle it. He might as well do her this favor; it wouldn't interfere with the private commission from the Su family patriarch to "keep an eye" on Zoe—but without giving her too much real business.
As for Zoe, the only reason she was swallowing her impatience was that she already had a plan: let Ethan take a hit in the stock market, save him at the critical moment, then flip the dynamic—show him what professional management looks like, and then leverage Ethan's capital to make her own first pot of truly independent money.
——
Leaving the law firm, he stood by the floor–to–ceiling windows. The sunlight outside was a little harsh.
From this height, the city looked different.
Between buildings, the traffic flowed like thin red and white blood vessels, circulating through the concrete body of the metropolis.
In a year, the freeze would come.
Many of these "vessels" would clog, explode, tear.
Only a few places would keep "blood" moving.
"What I have to do," Ethan thought, "is get my hands on those places that will keep living, ahead of time."
His phone vibrated.
It was Mason.
[The three warehouses have all been signed. First batch of shelving scheduled to arrive within a week.
Primary grain suppliers A, B, and C locked in; draft contracts have been sent to your inbox.
I'll go check the remaining two warehouses this afternoon.]
A string of attachments followed.
Ethan replied:
[Good work. Go with whatever you judge to be the most stable and clean. If the pricing is reasonable, sign.]
Then he added:
[You can start hiring in parallel now. Staff headcount for each role should be calculated based on just one warehouse's needs.
Once a warehouse is sealed, we won't keep anyone stationed there.
For security, reserve the head of security position. I already have someone in mind.]
Mason quickly answered:
[Understood.]
"Future head of security," Ethan thought.
Blaze.
That madman whose bones turned to shrapnel as he charged through demon hordes—
the one whose name the last survivors only muttered as a kind of legend.
[Reporting in two days.]
That was what Blaze had said last night.
"Two days left."
"Enough."
He opened the "Twelve Star Wardens · Candidate List" in his consciousness and, next to the Aries slot, drew a tiny half–check.
Not yet in position, but already on the way.
——
In the afternoon, he received a confirmation from Zoe: PeachSpring One was indeed one of Shinyuan Group's properties.
So Ethan went straight to Benmi District.
In his memory, the building's location had never shifted by even half a meter.
PeachSpring One's exterior wasn't gleaming new, but it wasn't dilapidated either.
The ground floor housed a few chain convenience stores, small eateries, and a gym. Several corporate plaques hung above—names so generic they were almost invisible.
"Last time, you held out for ten years."
"This time, I'll see to it you never fall."
He stood across the street for a while, checking the surrounding terrain:
The ground was slightly elevated, making water accumulation less likely.
A main road ran nearby—good for access and evacuation.
There was a small substation and heat pipeline hub not far away. In the future freeze, energy supply here would be more stable than in many other places.
No wonder you survived ten years, he thought. This spot is perfect.
Then he pulled out his phone and dialed Summer.
She answered quickly, her voice cool but not distant.
"Ethan?"
"Summer, sorry to bother you." Ethan stood across the street, eyes on PeachSpring One's facade, his tone even. "I have a not–so–small request. I'd like to talk to you face to face."
"Is it about the acquisition?" she asked.
"No."
"It's about the building. PeachSpring One."
There was a brief silence on the other end.
"Where are you?" she asked.
"Right across from PeachSpring One."
"I'm at the office. Come up."
——
Shinyuan Group headquarters.
The sky outside the conference room's floor–to–ceiling windows was clear, the clouds thin, the city washed bright by the sun.
Summer hadn't asked anyone else to sit in. She brewed two cups of tea herself and pushed one over to him.
"Go ahead," she said. "You're interested in PeachSpring One?"
"It's not just interest," Ethan shook his head. "It's a necessity."
He raised his eyes and met hers.
"I want to rent the entire building."
The tea in her cup rippled faintly.
"The entire building?" she asked.
He gave a small smile and clarified, "All of it—twenty floors above ground, plus seven underground. All in."
Her fingers stilled for a moment.
"You want to lease all twenty–seven floors?"
"Yes."
"What are you planning to use it for?" she asked.
"What you care about is compliance and returns, yes?"
"For asset management, yes."
"Then I can give you an answer now—compliant, long–term, and stable." Ethan said. "As for what exactly I'm going to do with it, I can't tell you everything yet. I can promise it won't violate any laws or regulations. I'm willing to provide necessary filings to your group when the time comes—but I don't want any of it publicized."
Summer did not press the question of what he wanted to do. Instead, she asked another key point:
"How long do you want to lease it for?"
"First contract: twenty years," he said. "No early termination. We can agree to a floating rent, adjusted annually by CPI or market conditions, but it will never be lower than the starting price."
Her pupils contracted almost imperceptibly.
In all her years managing assets, she had seen short–term speculators and bargain hunters. But someone opening with "lock the whole building for twenty years" was extremely rare.
"Do you know the current state of that building?" she asked, still professional.
"Floors one through five and some of the upper floors are used by one of our project companies; the lower floors have scattered tenants; the seven basements are mostly parking and storage. Current occupancy isn't very high, but the cash flow is steady."
"I do know," Ethan said. "That's why I'd like to proceed like this—"
He drew a simplified building outline on the conference table's electronic screen with his fingertip.
"First, the lease will cover every floor from level one to level twenty above ground, plus all seven basement levels. All bundled into a single long–term rental contract."
"Second, we'll calculate rent based only on the rentable floor area of the twenty floors above ground, using market rates for similar grade commercial buildings in that area as the base. I'm guessing the current internal model return you run on it is around five percent, right?"
Summer did not confirm, but her gaze sharpened slightly.
"On that basis," he continued, "I'll offer a condition your board will love—"
"The annual rent for the whole building will be: the total market–rate rent you could reasonably collect on all twenty above–ground floors, multiplied by 1.2."
"The seven basement levels won't be priced separately."
"They'll be treated as usage rights attached to the building, for me to plan as I see fit. I can remodel internally in whatever way I like, as long as it's within regulation. At the end of the lease, you can demand restoration if you want."
The conference room fell quiet for a few seconds.
Summer quickly adjusted a few parameters on her terminal, doing a rough calculation.
At current market rates, with roughly four thousand square meters per floor, the annual rent for the entire building would be close to thirty million. With a 20% premium on top, for Shinyuan, this would be an almost excessively good long–term cash flow.
She looked up again. "You're sure?"
"I am."
His tone didn't waver. "You can have your finance, legal, and investment committee all run the numbers. From your perspective, it's highly favorable."
"And for you?" she asked bluntly. "What does it look like on your side?"
"For me, it's favorable too."
He said quietly, "Because I'm not treating it as an asset. I'm treating it as a necessity."
"A necessity?"
"You can think of it as… the only 'landing point' suitable for me in the future," he said.
Then, remembering, he added a more outwardly reasonable explanation:
"I've cast a few fortunes. That building is my 'feng shui node,'" he said lightly. "Where my luck settles."
If anyone else had said that, she would likely have smiled and moved on.
But coming from him—with those overly calm eyes—it carried a strange conviction, like a stubborn, quiet madness.
"What about the payment schedule?" she asked.
"Within three days of signing, I'll pay a ten–million deposit plus one and a half years of rent—fifty–five million total."
"After that, I'll pay each year's rent one quarter in advance."
He paused, then added,
"And I'll set aside an 'additional compensation fund.'"
"Two parts," he said.
"First part is to cover the relocation and restructuring costs for your project company in that building. You name a reasonable number, I won't haggle."
"Second part is what I'll use later when I talk to the existing tenants about moving out or staying under new terms. That part doesn't concern you. I'll pay and handle the negotiations myself."
At this, Summer's brows drew together slightly.
"You want the whole building but not Shinyuan's help clearing it?"
"That's right," Ethan nodded. "I'd like all current leases transferred to my name through tripartite agreements."
"From that moment on, they're my clients, not yours."
"Whether they move, where they move, how they're compensated, whether they renew—that's between them and my new company, PineRiver Asset."
"All I need from you is a clean, unencumbered property. No hidden disputes popping up later."
She watched him quietly, a trace of scrutiny in her gaze.
"Usually, someone who wants a whole building insists on the owner clearing out tenants first. You're taking the most troublesome part on yourself. You're not worried you won't be able to manage it?"
"I am worried," he answered honestly. "But it's your building. I don't want to overburden you. And this place won't be solely 'mine' in the future. If I control the clearing myself, I'll be more at ease."
He paused, then softened his tone just a little.
"I see you as my upstream," he said. "PeachSpring One can always stay on Shinyuan's asset list."
Something in Summer's chest shifted very slightly.
"You really don't plan to buy?" she still asked. "Given your current liquidity, it would be easy to buy with a mortgage. I'm not particularly attached to this asset. If the terms are good, I'd be willing to sell."
"Buying would be like hanging a huge plaque over my head," Ethan said calmly, "telling the whole world I suddenly have a lot of money."
"A long–term lease is a cash flow asset for you. For me, it's a shell—something that blocks wind and rain."
"As long as the contract includes a priority purchase clause, that's enough. If the day ever comes when I need to buy, I'll come talk to you again."
"But before that, what I'd prefer—" He looked at her. "Is that no one sets foot in that building without my permission."
He smiled faintly, then added:
"Except you, of course."
Those last words were half–teasing, but they carried a subtle warmth that wasn't entirely playful.
Summer lowered her gaze, hiding the flicker in her eyes.
"Are you trying to curry favor with your landlord?" she asked.
"I'm just stating facts," he replied, still calm. "In this city, there aren't many places where I feel safe. Even fewer people."
"PeachSpring One is one. You're another."
The air seemed to still for a moment.
This was the first time he had ever put the word "trust" on equal footing between her and a building.
Summer felt a strange mixture of warmth and sourness rise in her chest.
She had long been used to people approaching her—for the Su family, for Shinyuan, for resources. No one had ever spoken of "trust" with quite this kind of serious gentleness.
"You're very confident in yourself," she said softly. "And in your future."
"Because I've lived through some bad things," he answered, voice barely above a murmur. "Now I've learned from them. My thinking is clearer. I won't let my mistakes repeat."
She did not ask what those "bad things" were. But somewhere deep inside, she filed that sentence away with unusual care.
"All right," she said at last.
"I'll have the asset team and legal do a full assessment and draft a proposal. Then I'll give you a formal number."
"Personally, I'm inclined to say yes."
"The board probably won't reject a twenty–year, high–premium, stable lease. As for clearing and relocation—are you sure you don't want me to shoulder part of that for you?"
"In business, you've already given me enough consideration and face," Ethan said with a faint smile. "I can handle the rest."
"Fine," she nodded, the corner of her mouth curving. They both stood.
At the conference room door, she stopped and turned slightly.
"Ethan," she said.
"Yes?"
"You said PeachSpring One is your 'feng shui node'—where your fortune lies," she said. "So if I lease it to you now… does that mean—"
She didn't finish the sentence, but there was a rare, playful glint in her eyes.
"—your luck for the next few decades is given by me?"
Ethan met her gaze, serious.
"If I manage to lease it successfully, I'll owe you a proper thank–you," he said. "I'll repay you in a way you'd never expect."
Their eyes held in midair, neither looking away.
For that brief instant, the numbers, contracts, rent formulas—all of it faded into the background.
What remained was two very clear–headed people, each recognizing something familiar in the other.
After a few seconds, Summer withdrew her gaze first, her tone returning to professional steadiness.
"I'll have asset management push out a plan as soon as possible," she said.
"I hope this can be wrapped up within two weeks. Is that acceptable? As for relocation costs, we can add a special compensation clause in the contract. If you're willing to pay more, I won't object," Ethan replied.
He said it without a trace of frivolity.
It wasn't the wasteful bravado of a newly rich man. It was the measured spending of someone who knew exactly what his money was buying.
Summer looked at him and suddenly felt like laughing.
"You know," she said, "most people who come to me with proposals almost never say 'I don't mind paying more.'"
"Most insist they're optimistic about the project while trying to squeeze a few extra points of profit out of me."
"You're the first who seems genuinely afraid you're not paying enough."
"I know too well what this 'location' means to me," Ethan said. "If the location is wrong, people die."
That sentence was spoken very lightly, but it made something in her heart jolt.
Summer didn't continue the topic. She just nodded.
"It's not that dramatic," she said. "I believe you could find somewhere else. But at this moment, I should be the one thanking you for choosing PeachSpring One. Here's to our second cooperation—may it be a pleasant one."
"Pleasant cooperation," he echoed.
Their hands met briefly in midair.
This time, it wasn't about a project acquisition.
It was about twenty–seven floors of future.
It was also their second true "alliance" in this city.
——
By dusk, he was back at the hotel.
The room was quiet, the air–con humming softly.
He sat at the desk and mentally reviewed the key points from the day:
Two hundred million set aside as the stock market pool.
Two hundred million allocated to liquidity and operations.
The remaining four hundred million to begin shaping the "shelter."
His phone lit up.
A new message.
[Address? Where am I reporting in two days?]
— Blaze
Ethan smiled, just a little.
[PineRiver Asset · XX Logistics Park, Central Warehouse Office.
I'll send you the exact location.]
[You don't need to prepare anything before you come.
Just be ready for this: from then on, you'll be willing to fight for this place with your life.]
Blaze took a few seconds, then replied:
[As long as it's worth it, my life isn't worth much.]
Ethan stared at that sentence for a moment, his fingers hovering over the screen.
Worth it, he thought.
I'll make sure every one of you spends your life thinking—following me was worth it.
He didn't reply again. Instead, he dragged this chat into a separate folder, naming it:
[Twelve Star Wardens · Private Channel]
Night deepened.
City lights flickered on, one by one.
He stood at the window, watching the glow spread as he mentally re–sorted the timeline for the coming days:
— Meet Zoe for the second round tomorrow, finalize the prize–claim structure.
— Go to the lottery center in the afternoon, claim anonymously.
— The day after: run through banks and brokerage firms, open all necessary accounts.
— In parallel: push warehouse interior works and hiring.
— Wait for Blaze to report.
— Wait for the final answer on the building.
"Money.
Building.
Warehouses.
People."
Everything was on its way.
He let out a slow breath and said to himself, very softly:
"Phase one is almost formed."
"Tomorrow—it's finally time for that eight hundred million to start doing what it's meant to do."