The Heiress's Game

Gu Yunjin has been sleeping only four hours a day for a week. When Li Chunjing sent over the finished variety show the day before yesterday, she watched it from beginning to end, said only one sentence, "It can be scheduled for release," and then cleared the matter from her mind.

It's not that she doesn't value it; it's that she has something more important to do than variety shows—so important that she's willing to personally delve into technical documents that she's not good at.

Zhang Zhuoran's company focuses on AI application layer, which is more commercially oriented. Gu Yunjin invested 20 million yuan, taking a 10% stake, and she trusted Zhang Zhuoran to handle this part.

What she really wants to do is something deeper—a large-scale model for pure academic research, not in a hurry to commercialize or monetize, but to first build the underlying architecture, create an open-source ecosystem, and bring in the top talents.

Almost no one in the industry is optimistic about this.

Established investors believe that AI is too expensive and has a long payback period, making it less stable than real estate.

Internet upstarts are optimistic about AI, but they prefer application-level technologies that can generate immediate revenue, and avoid long-term basic research.

Gu Yunjin insisted on doing it, not because she was particularly knowledgeable about technology—she frankly admitted that she wasn't.

She could only grasp the general idea of ​​the mathematical models in those papers after reading them once; she needed Lu Xiao to draw diagrams for her to understand the deeper underlying architecture.

But there was one thing she knew better than anyone: she was rich.

With billions of yuan in available funds, there are virtually no problems in her investment field that money can't solve.

It doesn't matter if she doesn't understand technology; she can find the most technically savvy people in the world and then shower them with money and sincerity.

The head of the core algorithm team was poached by Lu Xiao from a top global research institute. The other party was previously stuck with a contract by an internet giant and couldn't move forward, so Gu Yunjin directly offered to pay the penalty for breach of contract for him.

The HR department calculated the amount and felt it was too large, so they asked her to reconsider.

She said "No need to think about it," and the money was transferred that afternoon.

Lu Xiao hasn't had a break for a very long time because of this.

It's not an exaggeration; there really wasn't any rest.

Building a purely research-oriented AI team is a much bigger undertaking than working on Zhang Zhuoran's project.

His desk was piled high with background check materials for core technical personnel alone. He read through the papers of every candidate and personally participated in every interview.

He is also collaborating with several overseas research institutions and university laboratories.

Gu Yunjin gave him only one instruction: "Find the best people in the world; money is not an issue."

It sounds great, but in practice, Lu Xiao only slept four or five hours a day for several weeks, kept his phone on 24 hours a day, and even when he received an overseas call from San Francisco in the middle of the night, he had to immediately switch to fluent English to discuss model parameters and computing power deployment with the other party.

Once, at three in the morning, he sent an email to Gu Yunjin, attaching the cooperation framework that the two companies had just negotiated.

Gu Yunjin replied at four o'clock, and he replied again at four o'clock.

The two were silent for a few seconds, then simultaneously sent each other a message saying "Go to sleep"—of course, neither of them actually went to sleep.

That afternoon, Lu Xiao knocked on the door of Gu Yunjin's study with a new list in hand.

He placed a stack of resumes on the table. "The head of the algorithm team has been basically decided. We still need an expert in computing power architecture and a consultant in data ethics."

In addition, we don't have enough office space. Mr. Zhang said we could temporarily borrow one floor of their building, but it needs to be vacated by the next quarter at the latest.

Gu Yunjin looked up from behind the monitor, glanced at him, then opened a drawer, took something out, placed it on the table, and pushed it over.

"Sign this first."

It is an equity incentive agreement.

Lu Xiao picked it up and flipped through a couple of pages, his finger stopping on a certain clause.

He looked up at Gu Yunjin, "This is much more than I expected."

"You deserve this amount."

"I'm handing this project over to you, not so you can do the work of a partner while being paid an assistant's salary."

"It'll only get busier from here on out. Go back and tell your family that your schedule for the next six months is up to me."

Lu Xiao remained silent for a few seconds before signing his name on the last page of the agreement.

After signing, he put away the agreement, pushed the resume of the computing power expert in front of Gu Yunjin, and his tone returned to its usual calm:

"You need to meet the expert on this computing architecture in person. He has worked at three major companies and has extensive experience, but he has concerns about purely research-oriented projects."

He believes that without commercial support, the business won't go far. I can't convince him of this difference in opinion, so I need your help.

Gu Yunjin picked up the resume and glanced at it—a PhD from a top university, who had led a team of hundreds of people in a large company, and had published a series of influential papers.

She put the resume back on the table and told him to come over tomorrow.

Lu Xiao nodded and then said, "Miss Gu, there's something I might not be the one to say, but I'd still like to say it anyway."

Your investment in this project has far exceeded the normal risk margin.

As your assistant, I have an obligation to remind you to be careful about the safety of your funds;

"But as the project leader, I want to say—" He paused, "Thank you for trusting me."

Gu Yunjin looked at him and smiled.

"I don't trust you, so I won't entrust this whole thing to you. Go and get busy."

Lu Xiao turned to leave, but was stopped by her at the door.

"Lu Xiao".

"Please speak."

"Turn off your phones and go to sleep before midnight tonight. That's the boss's order."

Lu Xiao paused for a moment, then nodded.

He walked out of the study and gently closed the door, and footsteps echoed in the corridor.

Gu Yunjin leaned back in his chair and rubbed his temples in front of the numerous documents and technical white papers on the table.

Then she picked up her pen again and opened the next plan—the deployment plan for the computing power cluster. From hardware procurement to data center site selection, every step was waiting for her approval.

She didn't quite understand the technical details, but that was okay; she would ask about each one one by one.