The rebound of Aurorris was faster than anyone predicted.
Within a week of near-paralysis, Liang Chen's factories were alive again. The looms that had fallen silent now sang with rhythmic hum of machines, threads weaving into fabric that carried his brand's identity. Trucks rolled out of warehouses through dawn mist delivering to malls, and ExpressCart's distribution fleet delivered fresh batches of Aurorris Everyday, Vibe, and Prestige to customers across Zhonghai, Shanghai, and beyond.
The blockage of raw materials had been real, but the solution had been decisive. Lin Xinya's quiet intervention had rerouted suppliers through her family's extensive network. No public declaration, no scandal—just a subtle redirection of channels, opening lifelines where there had been dead ends.
On the streets, the results showed instantly. Customers who had begun murmuring about "Aurorris running out" suddenly found shelves stocked again. Influencers wore the latest Vibe hoodies in new TikTok dances. Prestige dresses reappeared at weekend galas. The murmurs of doubt turned back into cheers.
And the rivals noticed.
At the Duan family estate, fury boiled. At Harlan's Shanghai office, analysts blinked at the recovery curve and muttered about "miscalculations." Even Alexander Roth, sipping wine in an art gallery, tapped his glass against the stem in irritation. The disruption had failed. Aurorris had slipped through the net.
For Liang Chen, it meant breathing space—precious time he hadn't had in weeks.
The familiar red-bricked gates of Zhonghai University of Business and Finance stood before him like a half-forgotten dream. Students streamed past, their chatter light, their arms full of laptops and notes. To them, exams and internships were the battlefield. For Liang Chen, returning here after weeks of business wars felt surreal.
Inside the lecture hall, heads turned. Whispers followed.
"Isn't that Liang Chen? He hasn't been here in ages.""Yeah, I heard he's busy with some business… something about clothes?""Clothes? You mean Aurorris? That's his?"
Liang ignored the murmurs, sliding quietly into the back row.
At the front, the professor adjusted his glasses. His hair had more silver than black, his suit was simple, but his presence filled the room. He spotted Liang immediately.
"Ah, Mr. Liang Chen," he said, his tone firm but not unkind. "It's good to see you back. You've missed quite a few lectures."
Dozens of eyes swung toward him. Some smirked knowingly.
Liang rose slightly, bowing his head. "My apologies, Professor. I was occupied, but I'll do better from now on."
The professor's gaze lingered, then softened. "See that you do. Education is not simply about attendance—it is discipline. Without discipline, even talent withers."
"Yes, Professor."
Satisfied, the professor continued with the lecture. Numbers, graphs, and theories filled the board, but soon he paused.
"Since Mr. Liang has returned, perhaps he can help us with today's case study. Suppose a company's supply chain is disrupted by monopolistic competitors. Limited capital. Hostile environment. How would you respond?"
The hall went still. The question was advanced; most students fumbled with it on exams.
Liang stood, calm. "First, I'd identify the choke points—the suppliers held under monopoly. Then I'd source alternatives, even if small or inconvenient, to keep production alive. At the same time, I'd build redundancy—multiple suppliers for key inputs—so no single choke point can kill the flow. Finally, I'd establish distribution channels under direct control. That way, competitors can't strangle us at the last mile."
He hesitated, then added, "This isn't just theory. It's something I've learned through practice."
The professor blinked, then nodded slowly. "Excellent."
Turning to the class, he said, "This is the kind of answer that shows the bridge between books and reality. Theory can guide you, but experience sharpens it into wisdom. Well done, Mr. Liang."
A wave of murmurs followed. Students scribbled notes frantically, impressed despite themselves. Liang bowed his head politely and sat down.
As the break began, Liang gathered his notes. A shadow fell across his desk.
"Still as composed as ever, Liang Chen."
He looked up. His surprise was brief, but real. Standing before him was Elena Petrov—golden-haired, blue-eyed, tall and elegant in her crisp white blouse and tailored skirt. She carried herself with the effortless poise of someone born into nobility.
"Elena," Liang said, inclining his head. "It's been a while."
She smiled faintly. "Chapter fifteen, wasn't it?"
He blinked. "What?"
"Never mind," she said with a playful glint. "Foreign Flames, Hidden Dragon—you remember."
Her Mandarin was smooth now, barely accented, but her aura still turned heads. Students whispered, some in awe, others in envy.
"I heard about your brand," she continued, folding her arms. "Aurorris. You've been busy, haven't you? While the rest of us were buried in textbooks, you were conquering markets."
"Conquering is too strong a word," Liang replied. "I'm still learning."
Her laughter was soft, melodic. "That humility of yours—it hasn't changed since high school. But tell me, do you still hide from the spotlight? Or will you finally admit you're not like the rest of them?"
Before he could answer, another voice cut in.
"Well, well. What do we have here? The missing student and the foreign princess."
It was Zhao Feng, the well-dressed heir from earlier, flanked by his usual entourage. His smirk was sharp.
"Liang Chen," Zhao drawled. "Your answer in class was impressive—for a merchant. But let's be honest. You can juggle suppliers all you like, yet do you know how real elites move? Golf, wine, art, chess, horses. Those are the true currencies. Without them, you'll always be a guest in our world."
His companions chuckled. A few nearby students nodded uneasily.
Liang's expression stayed calm. Inside, he felt the truth of it. He had money, ambition, a system's secret edge. But those subtle games of refinement? They weren't his arena—yet.
Before he could reply, Elena's eyes flashed. She stepped forward, her voice cool.
"Funny," she said. "Back in St. Petersburg, we measure people by vision, not by how well they swing a golf club. And in my eyes, Liang Chen has more vision than any of your parlor tricks."
The hall went still. Zhao Feng flushed, muttered something about "foreigners not understanding," and stalked off.
Elena turned back, smiling faintly. "Consider that my welcome back gift."
Liang exhaled softly. "You didn't need to—"
"I know." Her grin was quick, almost mischievous. "But it was fun."
That evening, Liang Chen shifted gears. After weeks of suffocating tension, he wanted to give his team something rare: a night of laughter.
He gathered his core members—the sharp-tongued marketing lead Wen Yujia, the calm and precise finance manager Zhao Rui, the loud but loyal PR head Liu Qiang, and a handful of assistants who had weathered every storm with him.
The destination: a bustling barbecue restaurant by the river.
The table overflowed with sizzling skewers, foaming mugs of beer, and the chaotic music of laughter. For once, deadlines and supply shortages weren't on the menu.
"To Aurorris' survival!" Liu Qiang declared, raising his mug high. "I thought we were doomed, boss. But somehow, you dragged us back."
"To luck," Wen Yujia teased, clinking her glass. "Or maybe to stubbornness. Either way, it works."
Zhao Rui pushed up his glasses, sighing dramatically. "All I ask is next time you plan to save the company overnight, inform accounting in advance. My heart can't take the shocks."
Roars of laughter. Someone spilled sauce, another started chanting for a toast, and soon half the table was red-faced with drink.
By the time they moved to karaoke, inhibitions had dissolved. Wen Yujia belted out an off-key love ballad. Liu Qiang rapped badly enough to make the speakers crackle. Even Zhao Rui—usually reserved—sang a surprisingly emotional folk song that made everyone cheer.
And Liang? Dragged up by his assistants, he ended up in the middle of the group, microphone in hand, half-singing, half-laughing.
For a few hours, there were no Duans, no Harlands, no looming rivalries. Just a band of misfits who had chosen to follow him, forging bonds stronger than contracts.
Much later, Liang walked alone along the riverbank. Neon lights shimmered on the water, and his phone buzzed with updates—news headlines, trending hashtags, reporters calling Aurorris the "comeback of the year."
Behind him, faint echoes of his team's laughter lingered.
He let out a breath.
Even soldiers need rest between battles. Tonight was theirs.
But rest was not surrender.
The Duans weren't finished. Alexander Roth was still watching. And Harlan—the shadow behind them all—hadn't shown its full hand yet.
Liang's fingers brushed the card in his pocket, Lin Xinya's perfume still clinging faintly to it. He thought of Xinya's playful yet cunning personnality, Elena's straightforward and fiery character, Zhao Feng's mocking words, and the long road still ahead.
I lack their polish, their "refinements." But I can learn. And when I do…
A faint smile curved his lips.
They'll realize there's no measure—wine, chess, or horse—by which I fall short.
For now, though, he turned back toward campus. Tomorrow would bring more lectures, more whispers, more tests. A fleeting moment of ordinary life, before the war resumed.
And Liang Chen was ready.