Reborn in 2012, building a new energy empire

Three black Mercedes-Benzes drove off Qinhuai Road, gliding from the old city into the neon-lit depths, and finally stopped in front of a glass curtain wall building without license plates.

The building has no sign, and the entrance is hidden. Only two doormen, dressed in well-tailored suits and wearing miniature communication devices in their ears, stand silently, their eyes sharp as eagles, verifying the invisible passes of the visitors.

The elevator ascended silently. The moment the doors opened, a deafening roar and dazzling laser lights surged forth like a tidal wave.

As the metal doors slid open to the sides, the deafening subwoofer roar and the dazzling, dizzying laser lights crashed against one's senses like tangible waves.

Inside the private room, a panoramic view of the city lights unfolds through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Velvet sofas surround the room, while crystal chandeliers reflect the light from the Hennessy Richard, Sauternes, and vintage champagne on the obsidian coffee table.

The air was filled with the rich aroma of cigars mixed with expensive perfumes and alcohol, creating a sweet and cloying scent of desire.

Zhao Rui whispered a few words to the well-dressed and capable-looking foreman. The foreman bowed slightly, glanced at Zhou Mingyu, and after receiving a barely perceptible nod, quickly withdrew.

Ten minutes later, the soundproof door reopened.

Seven or eight girls in shiny black miniskirts filed in, swaying their hips to the loud music, their curves clearly outlined under the changing laser lights. When the song ended, they skillfully dispersed into the booths, picked up their glasses, and began to urge each other to drink with sweet smiles and subtle physical contact.

"Young Master Wang, would you do me the honor?"

"Brother Li, your new car is so cool!"

Wang Hao laughed and downed the drink in one gulp, then casually put his arm around her waist; Li Zhenyu blushed and half-heartedly resisted; Zhao Rui put his arm around his female companion and played dice with intimate penalties; even Chen Zi'an, after being urged to drink by her, took a few sips with a slightly embarrassed expression.

The air quickly became hot and dry. This was the rule Zhou Mingyu was demonstrating: wealth was directly exchanged for sensory pleasure and personal companionship; it was not only enjoyment, but also a ritual of identity recognition and a performance of power relations.

A pretty girl sat down next to Jiang Haoran, holding a glass of wine, and leaned slightly closer: "Young Master Jiang, how about we play a couple of rounds of dice?"

Jiang Haoran glanced at her sideways and nodded calmly, "Okay."

After several rounds, he had both wins and losses. When he lost, he would take a sip from the cup his opponent offered to his lips, the action natural and casual, without any embarrassment or eagerness.

This is part of the "circle rules" that Zhou Mingyu deliberately showed to Jiang Haoran.

Here, wealth and power can be easily exchanged for the most direct sensory pleasure and personal companionship. This is not merely enjoyment, but also a ritual of identity recognition and a concrete manifestation of power relations.

It lets you see what I can control, lets you experience the pleasure that comes with this control, and makes you unconsciously accept this set of rules, so that at the core level of interests, you are more likely to be incorporated into the same discourse system.

This is a crude yet effective "pledge of allegiance" scenario, using shared "less honorable" experiences to quickly blur boundaries and build a distorted bond of "one of us".

At the same time, this is also a subtle test to see if you can stay clear-headed in this environment, to see what you enjoy and what you resist, and your weaknesses may be hidden in these reactions.

Zhou Mingyu took it all in, a knowing smile playing on his lips.

Jiang Haoran's reaction was more interesting than he had expected.

It was neither the awkward resistance of a novice nor the impatience of a lustful man, but rather a calm and even somewhat weary cooperation born from a familiarity with the ways of the world. This calmness, in turn, made it all the more unfathomable.

As the song ended and the warm-up session came to a close, Zhou Mingyu didn't say much, but simply clapped his hands.

The noisy music in the private room was instantly cut off, replaced by a clear and ethereal guzheng prelude, flowing like a stream, yet carrying an indescribable sense of loneliness.

All the scattered lights dimmed simultaneously in an instant, as if wiped away abruptly by an invisible hand. The private room fell into a brief, almost stagnant darkness and silence, with only the low hum of the central air conditioning and the faint sound of someone holding their breath.

The next second, a beam of pure white light, without a trace of impurity, like moonlight piercing through the clouds, or like a stage spotlight suddenly illuminating the open space in the center of the box, precisely and softly enveloped it.

Within the beam of light, no smoke or dust rose, yet a figure stood silently.

She wore a flowing, sky-blue dress with wide sleeves, the hem trailing on the ground, the fabric light and thin as mist, gently swaying with the subtle airflow from the central air conditioning.

Her long hair was half-tied up with a simple white jade hairpin, while the rest of her black hair cascaded down to her waist like a waterfall.

Her face was covered by a light veil of the same color, obscuring her mouth and nose, revealing only a pair of dark eyebrows and eyes like distant mountains. Those eyes, clear and bright in the white light, seemed shrouded in a layer of misty rain from Jiangnan, hazy and sorrowful.

Simply by standing still and not moving an inch, a cool and ethereal aura, isolated from all the mundane world of tobacco and alcohol, belonging to ink paintings and the Book of Songs and the Chu Ci, had already begun to waft out, making this private room, filled with desire and transactions, seem to be purified in an instant.

The strings of the guzheng plucked, like pearls falling onto a jade plate.

Her flowing sleeves suddenly lashed out, creating two emerald ripples in the air, followed by an incredibly smooth spin, her skirt blooming like a blue lotus.

Every movement is strictly in accordance with the rhythm of classical dance. Raising hands, stepping, turning the head, bending over, the graceful movements contain the power and control brought by solid skills.

There was no deliberate coquetry, only a near-devout focus immersed in the dance itself, and emotions flowing naturally from the body.

It was a faint melancholy tinged with youthful poetry, a sadness at the fleeting nature of beautiful things, and a deep-seated, unyielding pride.

This is no longer a diversion for business entertainment, but a truly entertaining and professional classical dance performance.

Her noble temperament and exquisite skills created a strange and shocking conflict with the magnificent private room.

She seemed not to be there to please anyone, but rather a fairy who had inadvertently fallen to the mortal world, and in a situation where she had no choice, she was giving full play to her splendor one last time.

As the zither music grew more urgent, the dancers' movements quickened accordingly. Their continuous spins resembled surging waves, with their flowing sleeves and skirts intertwining and fluttering as if trying to break free from all constraints.

The emotions explode completely at the highest point of the music; it is not only a display of dance skills, but also a desperate outpouring of all emotions.

Finally, after a breathtaking leap and landing, the music stopped abruptly. She lay down slowly in a classic "lying fish" pose, her sleeves covering her body, motionless like a painting. Only the slight undulation of her shoulders and the stray strands of hair at her temples testified to the immense effort that the thrilling dance had just taken.

The private room was completely silent.

Wang Hao stared wide-eyed, Li Zhenyu forgot the wine in his hand, Zhao Rui crossed his arms with a deep look in his eyes, and Chen Zi'an was full of surprise and admiration, seemingly not expecting to see such a high level of performance here.

Even the girls sitting with him subconsciously suppressed their smiles, their gazes fixed on the solitary "bluebird" dancing in the beam of light with complex emotions.

Jiang Haoran put down the cup in his hand and leaned forward slightly.

His gaze pierced through the flowing sleeves and the hazy veil, landing on the dancer's eyes, which remained lowered but seemed to hold a thousand unspoken words.

The dance, the gaze, and the "cleanliness" that emanated from the surroundings, even from a distance, stirred up a vague image deep within his memory.

Campus...artistic performance...a proud silhouette taking its bow amidst thunderous applause...