Chapter 390: The Sun‑Never‑Setting Dusk, Downing Street Remains Awake All Night!

London's night had never been so long.

At Downing Street, the lights in the Prime Minister's Office never went out through the night. After Allen Green returned, he did not mention a single word about his mishap of crashing into the doorframe; instead, in a tone almost wooden and devoid of any emotion, he repeated verbatim every condition Lu Qingshan had laid out.

The office was dead silent.

Prime Minister (female), renowned for her toughness, sat quietly behind the desk, hands folded, motionless. Shadows cloaked her face, obscuring her expression, only her knuckles paling slightly from overexertion. The finance minister had just called, voice trembling; if the market kept collapsing tomorrow, the Bank of England's reserves would be completely pierced within seventeen minutes of opening.

After a long while, she finally spoke, her voice hoarse as if rubbed by sandpaper: "Allen, do you think we have any other options?"

Allen Green gave a wry smile; the face that always wore a proper smile was now filled with deep fatigue. "There isn't. Unless we want to see the entire United Kingdom's financial system completely evaporate after tomorrow's opening."

He added another sentence, as if stating a cold autopsy report: "I saw Wilson. He stood behind that Oriental, like the most loyal knight. The Shason Family has completely defected, and the fortress inside us has already been breached from within by him."

The Prime Minister (female) closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, the fire of anger in them had gone out, leaving only endless coldness and resolve.

"Draft the announcement."

She stood up, walked to the window, and looked at the sleeping city outside.

"Follow his suggestion and welcome the 'Strategic Investor.' Also, notify the Queen's Office; we need Her Majesty the Queen's cooperation. The face of the British Empire is a bit lighter than its economic lifeline."

……

In stark contrast to Downing Street's gloomy oppression, the top floor of 81 William King Street was suffused with a volcanic, eruptive heat.

The celebration banquet hadn't begun, yet the revelry had already started ahead of schedule.

"Brother, I get it now!" Lu Qingjun held a calculator, his eyes bulging, and he seized Li Junjie beside him, his face flushed with excitement. "One million pounds, converted into our currency, is over nine million! Nine million! How many large courtyards could I buy in the Capital City? I could buy Fuqiang Hutong one by one!"

Li Junjie was dizzy from the whirlwind, yet he hadn't caught what Lu Qingjun was saying. He stared blankly at his notebook, which displayed a massive star system diagram: at the top shone the dazzling star Lu Qingshan, below were planets named Ye Ning, Li Zhi'an, David and others, and beneath them swarmed countless satellites orbiting the planets.

"No, the structure's wrong…" he muttered to himself. "This isn't a pyramid; it's a star system. The boss is the star, we are the planets revolving around it. Gravity… gravity comes from money, but not entirely… This is a brand‑new organizational form, a 'gravity‑field' corporate management model! A dual gravity field of spirit and matter!"

The office door remained open, and the clamor from the trading hall downstairs kept pouring in.

David Cohen stood on a table, brandishing an expensive bottle of champagne, golden liquid spraying everywhere with his movements. He paid no mind, spitting wildly as he delivered a speech to a group of equally roused traders.

"Ferrari! Red! It must be red! Just like today's FTSE Index color! I'll drive it around Wall Street three times! Tell those bastards I'm following the world's most badass boss!"

"David, didn't you say you were going to buy a villa in Miami?" a trader shouted.

"I want a villa! I want a yacht! I'll hang a huge flag on the yacht with the boss's portrait! He's my god! He's the god of wealth! No, he's God Himself!"

Ye Ning and Li Zhi'an stood at the office doorway, watching the nearly rabid subordinates, their faces showing a mix of helplessness and satisfaction. This battle had been too bitter; they truly needed such a complete vent.

Ye Ning held a freshly drafted bonus allocation plan and walked into Lu Qingshan's office.

"Boss." She handed over the document.

Lu Qingshan didn't look at it, merely gestured for her to sit.

"This minor matter, you decide." He personally poured Ye Ning a cup of tea, the golden liquid reflecting her slightly reddened eyes.

"Boss, this trust…" Ye Ning's voice was choked, unsure what to say, a thousand words stuck in her throat.

"I've said it before: I never shortchange my own." Lu Qingshan looked at her. "Hong Kong Island, London are just the start. Ye Ning, what I need from you isn't just a top‑level trading supervisor. The future of Star River needs a steward who can hold the floor. Beyond trading—personnel, administration, risk control—I hope you'll gradually take them over. Li Zhi'an will assist you."

Ye Ning jerked her head up, eyes full of shock.

This was no longer trust; it was a commission. He was handing over the internal authority of this future Financial Empire without reservation.

She stood, bowed deeply to Lu Qingshan.

"I won't disappoint you."

At that moment, the red dedicated phone rang again.

Several people in the office felt their hearts skip a beat instinctively. Lu Qingshan walked over and lifted the handset.

On the other end, a hearty, slightly urgent laugh rang out.

"Lu bro! It's me, Guo Dongying! Congratulations! Congrats! This time you really punched a hole in the sky! The entire Hong Kong Island British Capital Consortium is now scared like quails; today, the Hang Seng Index was jolted up three hundred points by you across half the globe!"

Guo Dongying's voice was full of unabashed excitement and admiration.

Lu Qingshan smiled: "Guo bro, your news is really spot‑on."

"Hahaha, do we even need to ask? Every financial newspaper worldwide has you on the front page. Let me tell you, Li Jiasheng that old fox held an emergency meeting this afternoon, summoned his son Li Zexun back from the U. S. I bet he was scared by you and is ready to pull back the overseas front."

The two exchanged a few pleasantries, then Guo Dongying shifted the conversation.

"By the way, Lu bro, is your next step the United States? My wife's distant niece, Zhang Qianru, studies law and finance at Princeton, very sharp; I've already put in a good word for her. She'll be your full‑time assistant in the U. S., handling local liaison, legal and business matters—use her as you would family."

"Thanks for the effort, Guo bro."

"Don't be polite! This time you've given a huge sigh of relief for us Chinese! In the future, any need in the U. S., just say the word—New Hongji's entire U. S. resources are at your disposal!"

After hanging up, Lu Qingshan's smile faded gradually, his gaze turning deep again.

He walked to the massive World Map.

At some point, Wilson had silently positioned himself behind him, like a mute shadow.

"Mr Lu, I've already contacted two independent directors of Barclays Bank and a vice‑president of Rolls‑Royce. They… are very willing to talk." Wilson's voice was low, tinged with a blood‑thirsty excitement.

"Very good." Lu Qingshan didn't turn around; his finger lightly tapped the pentagram representing London, then, slowly and firmly, swept across the Atlantic Ocean, landing on the light spot named "New York."

In the office, everyone held their breath, watching his gesture.

The cheers from below remained deafening, champagne bubbles and the euphoria of a million pounds still rippled through the air.

But here, on the top floor, the finale of the feast had quietly ushered in the prelude to the next war.

Lu Qingshan stared at that light spot, as if he already saw Wall Street's towering skyscrapers and the wildly fluctuating numbers inside the New York Stock Exchange.

He turned, faced the nascent, loyal and fierce Financial Army behind him, and spoke calmly.

"After the celebration banquet, a one‑week holiday."

The crowd was stunned—wasn't it a month? Even David's speech halted, and the office fell silent.

Lu Qingshan looked at their puzzled faces, a sharp curve lifting his mouth: "One week is enough for you to buy cars, buy houses, settle your families. Smash all your lingering worries with pounds."

He paused, his voice suddenly rising, carrying an undeniable, blood‑pumping command.

"One week later, everyone has a target: New York."

"We're going to deliver a London‑origin 'local specialty' to Wall Street!"