Maybe for ordinary people, virtual coins meant everything. They were like pre-apocalypse RMB, representing all forms of value. With them, you could buy rice, steamed buns, discontinued snacks, daily supplies, even houses. You could even use them to pull strings and buy yourself a government job.
But for those living at the top of the food chain during the apocalypse, what did virtual coins even mean? You couldn't buy extinct livestock, you couldn't trade for supplies that no longer existed, you couldn't get rare fuel or natural gas for daily life. To them, virtual coins were just numbers on a screen, completely useless.
Forget those people, even for Jing Shu, virtual coins didn't matter. She'd never cared about them.
She snorted to herself. "Tch, it's not that I don't care about virtual coins, it's that I don't have any! I'm not only broke, I actually owe the government over a million in virtual coins. Though the Red Nematode Factory's internal self-run coins… I've got plenty of those. Guess that counts as virtual coins?"
So, no one here cared about those so-called two hundred thousand virtual coins. Even if it was split among them, how much would each person actually get? It wasn't even as valuable as Shiyuan's fresh vegetables and fruits. There was no need to think twice to know which one was worth more.
"No way, I'm not trading!"
"We're not giving it up!"
"I disagree too! If nothing else, we don't want virtual coins!"
"We can't just hand over the second phase of Shiyuan. This time it's the second phase, what's next, our lifeblood? Don't forget, we invested every bit of what we had into it."
The room was filled with outrage. Everyone shared the same stance—no one agreed to give away the second phase of Shiyuan so easily. Especially since that part had been built using expensive hired labor from the government. If they'd built it themselves, using Shiyuan's own workers, it would've cost only a third—or even less.
Jing Shu frowned slightly but didn't say anything.
Qian Duoduo tapped the table a few times, then turned toward the man who'd once received a helicopter from him. "Lao Xu, what do you think?"
The man straightened his back and asked carefully, "Did they say what happens if we refuse? What's the consequence?"
The bar went silent. Everyone turned toward Qian Duoduo, listening intently.
He thought for a moment. "They didn't say much, just that Wu City's in real trouble this time. They want us to think it over."
A man snorted. "When has Wu City not been in real trouble? Last month, the month before that, it was always the same story—short on food. How much have we already sent up from Shiyuan? We give them a cut of our production every single day. Isn't that enough?"
Lao Xu shook his head. "That sounds like a threat to me."
Qian Duoduo nodded. "Yeah. If we refuse, they might just take it by force."
That made everyone exchange uneasy looks. Someone spoke up. "Have you all forgotten what happened when the apocalypse first hit? Those big factories that refused to hand over their supplies for centralized management—what happened to them?"
Lao Xu looked grim. "Mr. Qian, is this coming from Jin Tianci himself? Given your relationship, I doubt he'd treat us this way."
Qian Duoduo sighed. "Yeah, it's his idea. I hate to say it, but it is. Word is, he's getting transferred back to the capital. Before he leaves, he wants to smooth things out for his successor. This is his last dirty job before he goes."
Jing Shu's eyelid twitched. What? Jin Tianci's leaving? In her previous life, he'd died of illness in the third year, and the Tyrant took over the year after that. But this time, he wasn't dead—he was being transferred?
When Qian Duoduo glanced over, he caught her sipping quietly from her glass. His eyes lit up. "Jing Shu, what do you think?"
All eyes turned to her. A low murmur rippled through the room. Everyone knew her shares had been gifted by Qian Duoduo himself—not once, but twice. The second time had been after she returned from America with an entire vegetable dehydration system.
"Me?" She raised a brow, then sighed at his expectant look.
Qian Duoduo wasn't stupid. Far from it.
He understood everything perfectly. But understanding didn't mean he could act on it. Like knowing smoking's bad for you, but still lighting up. He saw the truth clearly, yet still hesitated.
Giving up the second phase of Shiyuan didn't just mean losing property. It meant losing ambition, hope, and the platform that could've carried him further.
"I think we should give the second phase of Shiyuan to the government," she said calmly.
The room erupted instantly.
"Why should we hand it over?"
"Do you know how much food we'll lose by doing that?"
"We were planning to create a complete ecosystem, with large breeding farms and cultivation rooms, stockpiling tons of food and materials! If we give that up, all of it's gone!"
Qian Duoduo raised his hand, signaling for silence. "Oh? Why's that? Tell us how you see it. What good would it do us to hand it over?"
Jing Shu tapped the rim of her cup, deep in thought.
She felt Qian Duoduo had made a mistake before. For instance, giving away huge amounts of supplies for free, constantly donating to the government, showing up on Wu City's power rankings every month. With his wealth, his resources, and Shiyuan's reputation as the last paradise in the apocalypse, he'd drawn way too much attention.
Even if he kept making tributes, so what?
He knew it himself—he was a fat sheep, one with connections to the capital. But maybe he'd been wrong from the start, thinking that if he just kept growing stronger and fatter, handing over a little "meat" now and then, they'd never dare to slaughter him completely.
Reality said otherwise.
Jing Shu finally spoke. "We should give the second phase to the government, but not the way they want it. We'll give it on our terms. The second phase can really go to them, but how we give it and under what conditions—that's up to us."
Someone scoffed. "Even if we set conditions, what's the point? Say we do it your way. So what if the management team's made up of our people? Those thousands of workers they'll 'send over' will still be theirs. The output will still be theirs. What do we get out of it? You think you can make them agree that everything produced still belongs to us?"
"Exactly! The land itself isn't what's valuable—it's what comes after. The food, the materials, all that production. You think the government doesn't want that? That's the whole reason they're taking it! How could they ever agree to your terms?"
Jing Shu smiled.
Sometimes, you had to go the opposite way. You couldn't just stare at what was right in front of you. There were deeper benefits hidden underneath.
Most importantly, everyone's interests weren't perfectly aligned. Like the great man once said, seek common ground while setting aside differences.