Chapter 335: I Accept All of His Conditions!

While the Expert Group was busily searching for clues, in an inconspicuous boutique hotel in Lower Manhattan, United States!

The room was not large: one bed, one table, one window.

Outside the window were narrow streets and messy graffiti on the brick wall opposite.

The curtains were half-drawn.

The computer screen was filled with various webpages—the annual report of UnitedHealth Group, a list of executives, videos of past annual galas, and architectural blueprints of the Metropolitan Opera House.

In the dim environment.

Chu Chen's gaze was like a torch; he picked up his phone and dialed a number.

After the phone rang four times, it was finally answered.

"Hello?"

The person who answered was a young woman; her American English was very authentic, with an upward inflection at the end.

"Hello, Ms. Sally." Chu Chen's voice was very flat, as if confirming an unimportant piece of information.

"Hello, may I ask who—" Sally replied nonchalantly while drinking coffee.

"Chu Chen, you sent me an invitation." Chu Chen's English was also very standard.

Upon hearing this name, there was silence on the other end of the line for several seconds.

But even so, Chu Chen could hear the change in the other person's breathing, like someone who had been walking slowly suddenly starting to run.

This silence lasted for about three seconds, then was suddenly broken!

"Oh my... my God, oh my God, you really are Chu Chen!?" Her voice was trembling: "You contacted me today, is it..."

Chu Chen did not speak.

He switched the phone to his left hand, picked up a pen from the table with his right hand, and recorded something on the hotel notepad.

"Mr. Chu Chen, I—I am your fan. I have been watching your live streams every day since the first season of *Simulated Crime*. I've watched the replay of that performance you live-streamed last time no less than twenty times, and I even—I even tattooed the patterns of those four Tarot Cards on my wrist. Do you want to see? I can take a picture for you—"

"Ms. Sally." Chu Chen interrupted her, his tone unchanged, like a cold, automatic answering machine: "Please tell your boss that I accept his invitation."

"Ah? Is this... really true? That's great! Mr. Thompson will definitely be very—"

"But I have two conditions. First, the stage design, lighting plan, sound coordination, and the entire performance flow must all be handled by me. Second, the guest list for the night of the gala must be decided by me. I will give you a list, and you will send out the invitations according to that list."

Although she didn't know what Chu Chen was planning to do, she was so excited that she agreed on behalf of her boss without even thinking: "I believe Brian will definitely agree! This is really great, I can actually see you in person..."

Before she could finish, Chu Chen hung up the phone.

Sally listened to the busy signal on the receiver, froze for a second, and then put down her own phone as well.

She lowered her head and glanced at her left wrist—the tattoo of the four Tarot Cards looked exceptionally clear under the office fluorescent lights.

She touched the smallest knight pattern with her right thumb, the corners of her mouth curved up, then she stood up, grabbed the notepad from the table, and walked quickly toward the end of the corridor.

Standing in front of the closed walnut door, Sally knocked three times.

"Knock, knock, knock!"

"Come in."

The person inside the door heard the knocking and responded.

At this moment, Brian was sitting behind his desk, holding a document, his brow slightly furrowed.

He was wearing a light blue dress shirt with a dark red tie knotted meticulously at the collar.

The computer screen on the desk was lit, displaying a quarterly report on the Medicare Advantage program.

The coffee cup beside it was full and steaming, evidently poured not long ago.

"Mr. Thompson."

After entering the office, Sally said excitedly without hesitation: "There is news about that matter!"

Brian put down his document.

His brow did not unfurl, but his gaze lifted from the paper and landed on Sally's face: "What matter?"

"Chu Chen is willing to accept your invitation; he agrees to be a special guest and attend our gala!"

"Really?" Brian said in surprise.

He truly did not expect that Chu Chen would accept his invitation!

As a superstar of the hottest variety show today, being able to attend his annual gala as a special guest could definitely take the company's reputation to the next level!

"Absolutely true, but he proposed two conditions."

Sally handed over the notepad.

Brian took it, looked down at it, and his brow furrowed even tighter.

His eyes scanned from left to right, then he looked up.

"The guest list is also to be decided by him?"

"Yes."

Brian placed the notepad on the desk and leaned back.

The chair let out a slight creak.

He stared at the ceiling for two seconds, then sat up straight, crossing his hands on the desk.

After a moment of silence, he stood up, walked around the desk, and went to the floor-to-ceiling window.

The view of Midtown Manhattan was in full sight outside the window—glass-curtain-walled buildings stood one after another, and the Hudson River shimmered with a lead-gray light in the distance.

With his hands in his trouser pockets, his back to Sally, his voice came from over his shoulder.

"The insurance company's annual gala is the most important day of the year. More important than the earnings report day, more important than the shareholders' meeting. The insurance industry doesn't sell products; it sells confidence. A car salesman's client can sit inside and take it for a spin. A mobile phone salesman's client can hold it in their hand and swipe it. Insurance? What you hand the client is a contract, dozens of pages of paper, densely packed with clauses. The client pays money today, and might only be able to use this contract ten or twenty years later."

He turned around, leaned against the windowsill, and crossed his arms over his chest.

"So what makes people pay? It's confidence. The client's confidence in the company, the employees' confidence in the company, the capital market's confidence in the company. And the annual gala—is that once-a-year moment where this confidence is pulled from paper into reality. Every light on the stage, every piece of music, every person who goes up to receive an award, every guest who performs—all of these added together is telling those thousands of people in the audience: what you are doing is valuable. You continue to make calls, run to clients, and sign orders next year; you are participating in a major undertaking."

He left the windowsill, walked back to the desk, and picked up the hot coffee to take a sip.

"Insurance companies across the United States are all doing the same thing. Every autumn, it's annual meeting season. From New York to Los Angeles, from Chicago to Dallas. Tens of thousands of people gather together to eat, drink, receive awards, and watch performances. The bigger the celebrity guest you hire, the more the employees feel their company has strength. The more dazzling the stars on stage, the more confident the sales team becomes. Confidence—that is the most valuable thing in this industry."

He set down his coffee cup, turned around, and tapped his finger on the sticky note on the table.

"Last year in Chicago, we hired Beyoncé. It cost six million. The effect was good, but it was just good. This year, I've booked the venue at the Metropolitan Opera House—every insurance peer in the U. S., every financial media outlet, and every business commentator will be watching us that night. I don't want 'good'; I want a sensation. I want the name UnitedHealth to become a name known to the whole world after this year's annual meeting!"

His voice rose, carrying a resonant certainty that only appeared in board meetings.

"If this guy can really come to attend our grand annual event, I don't even dare to imagine how sensational tomorrow's front-page headlines will be!"

He picked the sticky note up from the table and read those two lines of text again.

"Sally, agree to his conditions, then tell the organizers of the annual meeting to do exactly as he said. As for the compensation, on top of the 10 million USD, I will add another 10 million!"

"Add another 10 million?" Sally was stunned for a moment: "He didn't seem to mention anything about compensation."

"That is not important."

Sally lowered her head and recorded it quickly in her notebook.

Brian's voice came down from above her head, the rhythm growing faster and faster, like an engine accelerating.

After finishing his speech, Brian walked back behind the desk and sat down, picking up the document that had been set aside, but his gaze did not land on the paper:

"Alright, that's all. Go call him back immediately and tell him that I agree to all of his conditions!"