Chapter 468: The Bet

“Everyone’s gone—no more brown-nosing to hear. They’re all saving it up for next time my cousin comes to gush again.” Meng Jingmo teased his roommates and college classmates.

He’d barely finished speaking when they all pounced on him.

“Oh, so now you’re making fun of us? Punch him.”

Laughter and roughhousing echoed through the office.

They could play all they wanted, but work still had to get done.

In a corner unnoticed, a company named “Xunteng Technology” quietly emerged, its core team of six.

With strong technical support and ample funding, and Meng Jingmo continuously bringing in talent, the company grew rapidly.

By year’s end, Lin Zhao received a slim, compact phone.

“You actually made it?” she looked at Jingmo in surprise, “So fast? I thought you’d need years to pull this off.”

"With Zhiqian as our tech consultant, this is too slow. Little Gu, take a look—if anything seems off, let me know, we’ll optimize it." Meng Jingmo’s dark eyes gleamed.

Lin Zhao held the phone; for her age, it was a novel gadget, but she wasn’t afraid of breaking it—after all, both the tech genius’s son and nephew were right here. Without calling them, she picked up the manual and started fiddling with it.

Power on.

The black screen lit up, displaying a simple wing emblem, then vanished after two seconds.

Four characters appeared:

Welcome to use.

"Little Gu, the SIM card is already installed. Try calling Zhiheng."

Lin Zhao nodded, found the dial pad, and dialed the number memorized by heart.

“...Mom?” Gu Zhiheng was startled—the caller ID wasn’t the home landline.

Lin Zhao was amazed. “It actually works! So convenient. When’s it going on sale? We should get one for everyone at home—it’ll make contacting people so much easier. At least we won’t have to run around looking for payphones.”

Her tone brimmed with joy, like a little girl curious about the whole world.

Gu Zhiqian’s refined features softened with a smile. “Your brother’s brick phone replaced landlines; this is an upgraded version—it naturally works too.”

Gu Zhiheng heard his voice and raised an eyebrow. “You’re here too, Sanzai? Finished your work? What upgrade? You and Jingmo tinkered with a touchscreen phone?”

“It’s a touchscreen phone,” said Lin Zhao, her voice light and pleased as she stroked the device. “White, small, light, calls crystal clear—really good. Way better than your brick. That thing’s like a lump of concrete.”

Gu Zhiheng scowled. What was that? His brick phone was a symbol of status—even ugly, it was useful.

“I’ve used it for years now.”

“Without that brick, Mom, you couldn’t reach me anytime, anywhere.”

Lin Zhao conceded. “Hmm. Your brick may not have done much, but it earned its keep. Never mind.”

Gu Zhiheng’s grin stretched wide.

“Qianbao, when’s it going on sale? Save me one—I’ll promote it for you, guarantee you’ll be swamped with customers.”

Lin Zhao agreed. She looked at Jingmo. “Jingmo, listen to Zhiheng—he knows all the big bosses. If this phone breaks into their circles, how could sales possibly lag?”

Meng Jingmo wasn’t slow—he thought fast. “Zhiheng, I happen to have an extra one right now—black, your favorite. Want me to mail it to you?”

“No need to mail—I’m on my way back. I’ll stop by when I get there,” said Gu Zhiheng.

He knew better than anyone how huge this market was. Ideas flooded his mind. He couldn’t help but offer advice. “Jingmo, have you thought about how to promote it?”

“We have. We’re planning to buy ad space in newspapers and magazines. What do you think?” Meng Jingmo asked.

“Too slow,” Gu Zhiheng shook his head. His reflection in the car window showed his sharp brow bones, his eyes blazing with ambition.

“Go talk to TV stations.”

Meng Jingmo’s eyes gleamed. “TV stations?”

Lin Zhao chimed in. “Hire a director to film an ad, loop it on TV—it’s a solid idea. The effect would be great.”

How could it not be?

Times weren’t like before—rural households had TVs now. The audience for ads was enormous.

Meng Jingmo smacked his own head. “Why didn’t I think of that? I was stuck on old-school media.”

“It’s not surprising you didn’t,” Lin Zhao comforted him. “You’ve only been back a short while—you wouldn’t know the domestic situation well.”

“TV stations didn’t even have this kind of ‘service’ when you left.”

Meng Jingmo nodded, tilting his head toward his little aunt. “Thanks, Zhiheng—you just reminded me. When you get back, we’ll talk details.”

“OK,” said Gu Zhiheng.

“Then bye for now—I’ll wait for you at home,” said Meng Jingmo. He wasn’t leaving—he’d sleep with Zhiheng tonight.

This kid had a lot of tricks up his sleeve—he’d take the chance to dig them out.

Meng Jingmo grinned like a sly fox.

Lin Zhao and Gu Zhiqian both saw it. The mother and daughter exchanged a glance and laughed.

Meng Jingmo moved fast. After getting advice from Gu Zhiheng, he immediately rallied his team—hired an experienced ad agency, crafted copy, hired a director, and timed the launch for National Day.

The one-minute ad, aired on TV, felt like a movie.

The entire nation was stunned by its stunning quality!

It felt like a short film.

People wanted to keep watching.

Wake up—it’s an ad!

First stunned by the ad’s quality, then utterly captivated by the beautiful woman holding the phone.

Could make calls.

Could send texts.

Could play music.

Could log into Penguin ID.

…

Most importantly, it was light—and gorgeous.

Countless young men and women were smitten.

Soon, the phone number in the ad was flooded with calls.

Meng Jingmo finally understood the exhaustion Gu Zhiheng had felt during his early startup days—sleeping only two or three hours a night, no time even to eat or drink.

Exhaustion was real. So was the joy.

It was all money.

They were going to get rich.

After that hectic stretch, Meng Jingmo called Gu Zhiheng.

These two cousins, both seasoned in the ups and downs of business, grew closer by the day.

Gu Zhiheng pulled out his sleek touchscreen phone, tapped the screen, and said at once: “Congratulations, Manager Meng.”

Meng Jingmo smiled modestly. “Not as big as your business, Manager Gu.”

He shifted tone. “But for now, I’m the only one in this field—no one’s competing for my cake. Huge profit potential. You’d better watch out—I’ll overtake you soon.”

Gu Zhiheng snorted. “Impossible. I’ll be the richest.”

“Not necessarily. How do you know I can’t build up slowly and catch up?” Meng Jingmo’s ambition burned bright.

“Hmph. I won’t stand still waiting for you. You climb, I climb too. I’ve got plenty of leverage. Catching me? Nearly impossible,” Gu Zhiheng said lightly.

“Didn’t expect you to be this confident. Let’s make a bet—five years, how about it? See who has more assets then.” Meng Jingmo’s wild streak surfaced—he was suddenly intrigued.

“Fine. What’s the stake?” Gu Zhiheng said casually.

Family bets were harmless. Whatever the stake, it’s just money moving from one pocket to another.

“Two percent of our personal net assets,” said Meng Jingmo.

“Fine,” said Gu Zhiheng. For him now, two percent of his net assets was a terrifying sum.

“Manager Gu, you’re generous,” Meng Jingmo teased.

“Manager Meng isn’t far behind,” Gu Zhiheng shot back.

Two young men, brimming with confidence, sealed their bet.

As casually as asking if the other had eaten.

The ad had a massive impact—sales soared. Meng Jingmo’s assets multiplied. Gu Zhiheng wasn’t idle—he invested in new projects.

He bought land, formed a construction team, and began building hotels.

“Why are you getting into hotels again?” Lin Zhao frowned, worried. “You’ve already stretched too thin. Human energy is limited—what if you wear yourself out?”

“I know my limits,” Gu Zhiheng smiled. “Before, I had Lixin. Now I’ve got plenty of capable people. I just set the direction—I won’t exhaust myself.”

“Mom, don’t worry. I’m not stupid—I won’t abuse myself. I hired so many elites for a reason. They handle the details—I don’t need to micromanage. I’m not tired,” said Gu Zhiheng, who excelled at using people.

He had sharp eyes—after a few meetings, he knew exactly where to place each person and how to use them. He was fair, rewarded and punished clearly, and his subordinates respected him deeply, working with fierce enthusiasm.

“Good. As long as you’re not tired,” Lin Zhao’s frown eased.

“Don’t mistreat your people,” she warned.

“I know. My company doesn’t demand overtime. If anyone works overtime, overtime pay is always generous,” Gu Zhiheng said seriously.

This was Lin Zhao’s repeated demand—he took it seriously.

People weren’t tools. They had the right to rest. He cared deeply about employees’ basic rights in every aspect.

“I know. I’ve always trusted your judgment,” Lin Zhao patted her son’s hand.

“I heard someone in the transport team got a serious illness?” she asked, recalling what she’d heard.

“...Yeah,” Gu Zhiheng’s brow darkened. “I gave the company’s financial support. His salary continues while he’s sick. I hope he pulls through.”

He’d been with him since the team’s earliest days.

He was diligent and capable; while others grew restless, he stayed grounded and faithfully followed him.

Upon learning the man was ill, Gu Zhihang felt deeply sorry.

“You did well,” Lin Zhao praised. She feared her son might lose his way as his wealth grew, and seeing Zhihang handle it this way brought her great comfort.

“It’s only right,” Gu Zhihang said naturally. “Once he recovers, he can return to work at the company.”

“Did you promise him that?” Lin Zhao looked at her son.

“I did,” Gu Zhihang nodded.

“Good,” Lin Zhao said. “He’s the head of his household—his entire family depends on him. Suddenly falling ill must be unbearable. Your words gave him hope; I believe he’ll pull through this.”

“Mom, rest assured—our company is built on conscience. We’d never do anything heartless. I’m like this, and so are my uncles. Do you remember Dad’s old comrades—the three who joined Second Uncle’s factory?” Gu Zhihang suddenly said.

“Of course I remember,” Lin Zhao gave him a look. “The three who came to the capital to work after reform, got swindled, nearly got arrested—every year they come specially to pay New Year’s respects. How could I forget? I’m old, but my memory hasn’t gone that far.”

“I didn’t say your memory’s failing,” Gu Zhihang smiled apologetically.

He quickly changed the subject.

“Those three uncles just bought houses and officially settled in Haicheng—they’re real Haicheng residents now!” he said with a grin.

The Gu family’s third branch had two soldiers and one researcher; Gu Zhihang naturally admired soldiers, and he was glad to know those three ex-soldiers were doing well.

He thought of it and told Lin Zhao.

Gu Zhihang knew his mother would be happy for those three uncles too.

“Really? That’s wonderful news!” Lin Zhao was genuinely pleased. “If your father knew, he’d be overjoyed. But I won’t tell him yet—I’ll wait until they come over and tell him themselves.”

She added, “I feel they’ll come by.”

All three had been small fans of Gu Chenghuai, idolizing their “platoon leader” as if he were a god—every time they saw him, they gazed at him with exaggerated awe.

“I’m truly happy for them. Too bad they’re not in Haicheng—if they were, I’d have sent them a gift.”

Gu Zhihang smiled. “I knew you’d think that—I already sent one.”

“You’re getting better at understanding me. Good that you did,” Lin Zhao nodded in satisfaction.

Gu Zhiqian was off today and was at home, eating grapes one after another without speaking.

When they finished talking, she said, “Second brother, don’t you think you should publicize your school construction and poor-student scholarships in the papers? It’d help your image—I’ve seen plenty of bosses do exactly that. They donate less than you, yet turn their donation ceremonies into grand spectacles, invite media coverage, make the recipients read little essays…”

Gu Zhihang sneered.

“Don’t compare me to those fame-seeking frauds. I’m ashamed to be grouped with such performers.”

He’d seen what Yaobao described—such a small sum, as if buying the dignity of the recipients. The condescending airs they put on made him feel sick just thinking about it.

He understood the principle that a gentleman judges actions, not intentions—but the image of that old man, face flushed and helplessly standing there, made him despise such performances with every fiber of his being.

“Second brother, I didn’t mean to equate you with him,” Gu Zhiqian nervously tugged at Gu Zhihang’s sleeve. “I just meant this is a chance for publicity—a win-win. I’m just warning you. Those fake people can’t possibly be compared to my brother Gu Zhiqian—their names don’t even deserve to be spoken alongside yours!”

Gu Zhihang pulled his sleeve back. “Your brother isn’t that petty. Don’t look at me like you’re afraid of upsetting me.”

Gu Zhiqian’s face lit up instantly. “I knew my second brother was the most generous!”

“Don’t bring this up again,” Gu Zhihang said seriously. “Building the elementary school, setting up scholarships—they’re my personal acts, unrelated to business. I don’t want the hassle, and I don’t want attention drawn to me.”

He didn’t care about others’ praise or slander.

Just don’t bother him.

“Understood,” Gu Zhiqian said.

Gu Zhihang suddenly realized—it was the weekend, and this girl had stayed home, quietly, without going out.

He studied her with a questioning gaze. “Did you break up with Cat Egg?”