Walid's visit to Binhai was no minor event. The Middle Eastern investment legend—an "ashes-tier" local tyrant—was already making headlines from the moment he arrived.
Leading a fleet of three jets into the city, Walid had brought with him his signature "hunting formation." And in Binhai, there was only one target worth such grandeur: the Marching Ant Company.
Reporters, tipped off by airport staff and social media posts, were already camped outside the company headquarters. Anticipation ran high.
Before long, a fleet of fifty brand-new BMWs appeared at the gates. The sight caused a stir. Phones and cameras were raised, shutters clicking furiously.
A lineup like this was rarely seen, and the media could only watch from the sidelines as the convoy rolled smoothly into the Marching Ant campus—off-limits to outsiders.
As the cars pulled up, Walid stepped out of the central vehicle. He was immediately greeted by Zhao Min, who stood beside one of their intelligent robots.
"Welcome to the Marching Ant Company, Mr. Walid," Zhao Min greeted warmly, extending her hand with a confident, professional smile.
Walid's translator quickly relayed her words.
"Hello, Ms. Zhao Min," Walid replied, shaking her hand. His gaze then shifted curiously to the humanoid robot beside her. "Is this one of your company's intelligent robots?"
"Yes, Mr. Walid," Zhao Min said with a smile, as the robot translated for her.
Walid studied the machine with growing interest, then extended his hand to the robot. "Hello."
"Greetings, Mr. Walid. I am the first-generation intelligent robot—Enchantress—developed by the Marching Ant Company. A pleasure to shake hands with you," the robot responded fluently.
Walid blinked in mild surprise. The handshake felt like grasping plastic—cold and artificial—but the interaction was surreal nonetheless. He'd read about the Enchantress robot in company briefings and seen promotional videos, but standing before a working unit was something else entirely.
"What are its functions?" he asked.
"This model supports 58 languages," the robot explained. "For international travelers like yourself, I can easily replace your translator."
The moment those words left the robot's mouth, Walid's translator looked visibly uncomfortable—like someone who'd just been made redundant on the spot.
"Shall we head inside?" Zhao Min interjected, gently guiding the direction of the meeting.
With a nod, Walid followed her toward the headquarters' main building. Along the way, thirty-six robots lined both sides of the walkway, standing in precise formation.
Walid's security detail visibly tensed, uneasy under the mechanical gazes. It felt like walking onto the set of a sci-fi film.
Walid, however, was captivated. He'd seen luxury, innovation, and power—but this level of futuristic welcome was a first.
Inside, the Marching Ant reception hall exuded refined elegance, with a minimalist palette and serene atmosphere. Chen Mo and Xiao Yu were already waiting to receive their distinguished guest.
"Mr. Walid, welcome. It's an honor to finally meet you," Chen Mo greeted with a polite smile and extended hand.
Wearing a tailored black suit, Chen Mo exuded a calm, collected presence that defied his youth.
"I've heard much about your brilliance, Mr. Chen," Walid replied, smiling as he shook Chen Mo's hand and shared a brief hug.
After a round of pleasantries, everyone took their seats. Zhao Min and Xiao Yu sat on one side, joined by a robot assistant. Walid was flanked by two think tank advisors and his translator.
"Mr. Chen, have you ever considered entering the investment world?" Walid asked, smiling as the tea was poured.
"I prefer research over investment," Chen Mo replied easily.
"Then we're alike—we both love our work," Walid chuckled.
"Indeed."
After some light conversation, Walid steered toward his real objective.
"Mr. Chen, do you wish to see your company expand on a global scale?"
"Of course," Chen Mo said. "Do you have any suggestions?"
Walid leaned forward slightly. "I believe we can collaborate. You focus on technology, I focus on investment and global strategy. Together, we can make Marching Ant a world-renowned name."
Chen Mo and Zhao Min exchanged a quick glance.
"How would that cooperation work?" Chen Mo asked.
"We exchange equity," Walid said simply. "You become a shareholder in my oil and banking businesses, and I become a shareholder in the Marching Ant Company."
He watched Chen Mo closely, looking for any flicker of interest. His advisors also leaned in, ready to jump on the smallest hint of agreement.
But Chen Mo's response was direct and unflinching.
"I'm not interested in oil or banking, Mr. Walid. That's not my field."
In truth, Chen Mo would never allow Marching Ant's equity to be diluted by external capital—not even if he remained the majority shareholder. Once that door opened, capitalists would swarm in, each wanting a piece of the pie. And he wasn't about to do all the work for them to reap the benefits.
"Huawei, Apple, Umbrella, Tencent, and IDG have all approached me," Chen Mo added calmly. "They left empty-handed. If you're here for shares, I'm afraid you'll leave disappointed as well."
Walid paused, nodding slowly. He'd expected refusal—but not so swiftly.
"Then... is there any possibility of cooperation?" he asked after a brief silence.
"There is," Chen Mo said, leaning back. "Our Butterfly Eye smartphone has had trouble entering international markets. Would that interest you?"
Walid studied him closely. He wanted to gauge the young man's ambitions, but Chen Mo's calm, unreadable demeanor gave nothing away.
"I don't have strong connections in the telecom sector," Walid admitted. "But I do know plenty of wealthy individuals. However... I am interested in your robot."
He glanced toward the Enchantress unit.
"I like it. If you're willing to provide the units at a channel price, I'll become your international distributor. We'll sell them overseas through my network."
Zhao Min looked to Chen Mo, who nodded slightly. While robot sales weren't Chen Mo's top priority, leveraging Walid's reach wasn't a bad idea at all.
"That's a good proposal," Chen Mo said.
"Then let's talk details," Walid smiled.
By the time Walid left Marching Ant HQ, the sun was already dipping into the afternoon sky. As his convoy headed back to the hotel, he glanced out the window at the headquarters building disappearing behind him.
"Boss," one of his think tank advisors spoke up as they entered the lobby. "Why didn't you push harder on the mobile phone proposal? That was a golden opportunity to collaborate."
Walid shook his head slowly. "Some things are negotiable. Others... aren't."
"Why not this one?" another asked, clearly puzzled.
Walid didn't answer immediately. Instead, he looked out over the Binhai skyline.
Because some people… aren't meant to be bought.
And Chen Mo was clearly one of them.