It had been only a week since the classroom announcement, yet Liang Chen's life had shifted onto a track few could have imagined.
Professor Zhang, true to his word, did not let the momentum go to waste. After class one afternoon, he invited Liang to his office. The room was stacked with files, journals, and economic reports, yet the professor himself sat calmly with a cup of tea in hand.
"Liang," Zhang began with his usual unhurried tone, "I've thought about your ideas carefully. Quick delivery and electric cab services… both are realistic, both fill a gap in the current market. But a vision without structure is wasted. If you truly intend to bring them to life, we must move quickly."
Liang nodded. His palms were slightly sweaty. It was one thing to build businesses inside a simulation game—it was another to step into the chaos of the real world. Still, he reminded himself: The system gave me this chance. If I hesitate now, I'll never forgive myself.
"What should I do first, Professor?"
"Register the companies," Zhang replied crisply. "Without a legal entity, your ideas will remain ideas. We'll create three: one for rapid delivery—let's call it ExpressCart. Another for food delivery—Food-i-Way. And your eco-friendly taxi service will operate under the brand OdooCab. Each business will need its own license, compliance paperwork, and corporate structure. I will arrange for a legal consultant to handle the bureaucracy."
Liang exhaled in relief. Bureaucracy was his weakest point. Numbers, strategies, negotiations—those he could handle. But legal documentation was another beast.
The following week was a whirlwind. Meetings with lawyers, accountants, and registration officers filled Liang's schedule. Professor Zhang was always at his side, guiding him, teaching him what questions to ask and when to remain silent.
The shareholding structure was agreed upon quickly:
Liang Chen – 55%: Founder, majority shareholder, and CEO.
Professor Zhang – 25%: Mentor, advisor, and board member.
Outside Investors – 20% combined: A small pool of angel investors whom Zhang had cultivated over decades.
Zhang explained the reasoning one evening as they walked out of a government registration office.
"Control is everything. With 55%, you will always have the final say. My 25% ensures you have both experience and credibility on your side. The 20% is to sweeten the pot—people with money, networks, and influence must feel included. Business is not only about products, Liang—it is about alliances."
Liang listened intently, imprinting every word in his memory.
With structure in place, the next hurdle was funding.
The estimated initial outlay was staggering. ExpressCart required warehouses across the city, cold storage units for perishables, delivery bikes, vans, and a software platform. Food-i-Way needed a strong logistics team, restaurant partnerships, and a scalable app. OdooCab demanded the purchase of electric sedans, a charging infrastructure, and a marketing blitz.
Liang calculated the numbers and felt his head spin. "Professor… even with investors, this could cost more than ten million dollars."
"That's correct," Zhang said evenly. "But don't forget, you have resources too."
Liang hesitated. He had nearly fifteen million USD saved thanks to the system's earlier missions and his ventures in trading. Money he had always planned to keep as a safety net.
But now, faced with this moment, he clenched his fists. "I'll invest five million of my own funds. The rest we'll raise."
Zhang's eyes gleamed with approval. "Good. Investors respect founders who put their own skin in the game."
The first investor meeting took place at the Twin Pagoda. The two towers, now bustling with luxury hotels, courtyards, and high-end restaurants, were the perfect backdrop. Liang realized that hosting meetings here was no accident—Zhang wanted to subtly highlight that Liang was already an established figure in the city's landscape.
The conference room was filled with a dozen men and women—some government officials, some entrepreneurs, a few wealthy heirs looking for opportunities.
Zhang began with introductions, but soon nudged Liang forward. "Present your vision."
Liang stood, clicked the remote, and the projector lit up with slides he had spent nights perfecting.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he began, his voice steady though his heart pounded, "our city is evolving. People are busier than ever, yet services remain outdated. Taxis are unreliable, deliveries are slow, and food options are limited to what's near home. What if we could change all of that?"
He walked them through the three pillars:
ExpressCart – Warehouses strategically placed across districts, each stocked with essentials. Orders fulfilled in 10 to 15 minutes. "No one wants to wait hours for groceries when they can have them before their tea finishes brewing."
Food-i-Way – Partnerships with restaurants and cafés, with delivery between 30 to 50 minutes. "Families, office workers, students—they can all enjoy meals they love, without stepping outside."
OdooCab – An app-based electric cab service. Fares 30% cheaper than traditional taxis. Reliable, eco-friendly, and cashless. "No more haggling on street corners, no more exhaust fumes clogging our lungs."
By the end of the presentation, several investors were nodding, intrigued. When he finished, Zhang leaned forward and added, "I have taught economics for thirty years. I rarely attach my name to ventures. But Liang Chen's vision is the future. I am personally investing a quarter share. I suggest you consider the opportunity."
The room stirred. That one statement tipped the scales. By the end of negotiations, they secured twelve million USD in commitments, enough to launch all three ventures.
The months that followed were the most grueling of Liang's life.
ExpressCart came first. Warehouses were leased in five districts, each stocked with dry goods, fresh produce, beverages, toiletries, and household essentials. Liang worked closely with supply chain managers to ensure an automated system tracked stock levels in real-time. Orders placed through the app would be assigned to the nearest warehouse, where staff would package items in under three minutes. Delivery bikes—electric for sustainability—would then rush the package to the customer's door. Average delivery time in trial runs: 12 minutes.
Food-i-Way was trickier. Convincing restaurants to partner took negotiation. Many feared their kitchens couldn't handle delivery demand. Liang solved this by proposing a revenue-share model: Food-i-Way would charge only a small commission, and in return, they would handle logistics, marketing, and customer service. Within weeks, fifty restaurants signed on. By launch, over two hundred eateries—from street stalls to five-star restaurants—were on board.
OdooCab required the most capital. Liang struck a deal with a local dealership to purchase one hundred electric sedans at a bulk discount. The company also invested in fast-charging stations across the city. Drivers were carefully vetted and trained not just in safety but in customer etiquette. "OdooCab is not just transportation," Liang told recruits. "It's trust, reliability, and comfort."
The three apps launched within a span of two months.
At first, uptake was modest. Liang spent sleepless nights tracking user data, tweaking app interfaces, offering promotional discounts. Then, slowly, momentum built.
ExpressCart became a household name. Mothers ordered baby formula at midnight and received it in minutes. Office workers had snacks delivered during breaks. Even elderly couples, skeptical at first, began relying on it for groceries.
Food-i-Way was equally explosive. People marveled at being able to order restaurant meals from home. Student dorms placed bulk orders for fried chicken, families enjoyed hotpot nights without stepping outside, and couples had romantic dinners delivered with candles included.
OdooCab, meanwhile, shattered the taxi monopoly. People loved being able to book clean, reliable rides at fair rates. The slogan—"Your Ride, Your Price, Your Peace of Mind"—spread like wildfire.
Within six months, revenues crossed projections by 180%. Government officials took notice.
At a formal banquet, a deputy mayor shook Liang's hand warmly. "Young man, your businesses are not just profitable—they are improving quality of life. The city needs more entrepreneurs like you."
Soon, officials urged Liang and Zhang to consider expansion. "Take this model to other cities," they pressed. "We will support you with grants, permits, and land access."
Liang could hardly believe it. Not long ago, he was a penniless student. Now, government officials were requesting him to expand.
Professor Zhang, ever pragmatic, whispered later, "This is where true strategy begins. Growth is tempting, but uncontrolled growth destroys companies. We will expand—but carefully."
Late one night, Liang stood on the balcony of the Twin Pagoda, gazing at the glittering skyline. ExpressCart vans zipped through the streets below, Food-i-Way riders buzzed between restaurants and apartments, and OdooCabs glided smoothly through traffic.
He thought of his parents, of the struggles of poverty, of the endless part-time jobs he once worked just to pay tuition. Now, he was not only free from that burden—he was creating jobs for thousands.
The system had given him a chance, yes. But without Zhang's mentorship, without his own relentless drive, it would have remained nothing more than a dream.
Liang clenched the railing, eyes burning with determination. This is only the beginning. ExpressCart, Food-i-Way, OdooCab—they are my first empires. But the world is vast, and I will not stop here.