Chapter 33#
Buying Your Retirement#
There was a moment of frozen silence on the scene.
The director, numerous staff members, and the guests were all seeing someone cook this way for the first time.
After weighing the salt, Mo Xuzhi began weighing the MSG.
The others stood there dazed for a while. Then, reminded by the director, they finally snapped out of it and started washing the vegetables together.
The vegetables were easy enough to wash, but the fish was a problem. Luo Wenyun had never handled such things; he tried to scrape off the scales but was slapped by the fish’s tail several times. Eventually, seeing that the progress was really stalled, a staff member from the program crew helped process it off-camera. The fish was slaughtered and handed back to Luo Wenyun.
Only then did the progress start moving again.
The four of them were busy in the kitchen until the world felt dim. When they finally finished the dishes and brought them to the table, they found it was already 1:30 PM.
They had entered the kitchen at 11:30 AM; two hours had passed.
By the time Li Jing and the other four arrived at the villa, their steps were visibly light. Seeing a table full of food, they didn’t care about its appearance and rushed in with their bowls.
Mo Xuzhi and the others also sat down but didn’t move.
Seeing that the four didn’t have any strange expressions after eating, they secretly sighed in relief and finally picked up their chopsticks.
…The taste was hard to describe.
An afternoon meal with a slightly strange taste soon ended.
After eating, the expedited delivery sent by Wang Zhifeng arrived. Mo Xuzhi took the thick stack of documents from the specialist and carried them back to the villa.
On the way, he ran into Shen Le, who asked what he was holding. He gave his usual answer: “Top-secret rank-up cheats.”
Shen Le’s expression was complex.
The arrival of the documents meant that the rest period was over.
Mo Xuzhi returned to his room and restarted his computer, taking the opportunity to look through a few more files while the program crew was still planning what to do this afternoon.
Today was different from before. He didn’t have to constantly calculate, overturn, and recalculate rows of data that made one’s eyes blur. His brain cells were getting a temporary rest, so generally, it should have been more relaxing.
However, the electronic documents sent by Wang Zhifeng today were even more of a headache.
He had sent the preliminary candidate list for the CI Project. Each entry was packed with a large amount of resume commentary and achievements. Mo Xuzhi only flipped through it briefly and found that the page count had reached over a thousand.
And these were already the results of Wang Zhifeng’s screening and processing.
The unprocessed list included voluntary applicants, those the inspection department felt were good enough to recommend, and those who had made significant contributions in recent years. If listed one by one, even doubling those thousand-plus pages wouldn’t be enough to hold them.
Mo Xuzhi sighed and finally resigned himself to flipping back to the first page to start processing from the first entry.
It turned out the first one was Wang Zhifeng.
He had only written basic information, and his resume was extremely perfunctory, listing only a few rows of negligible achievements—a sharp contrast to the others.
He had some nerves, even putting himself first.
Mo Xuzhi smiled and checked the box at the end, putting this extremely perfunctory application form into the “passed” directory.
Wang Zhifeng was already an internal candidate; he would have joined the CI Project even without applying. Taking the time out of his busy schedule to fill out a form showed his absolute sincerity.
The first check was done easily, but for the next dozens of people, Mo Xuzhi didn’t pick a single one.
From resumes to overseas study experiences, he felt his eyes were no longer his own.
Face after face flashed by. Mo Xuzhi scrolled the wheel, then rubbed his brow and put on his glasses.
Today he needed to finalize the core team for the CI Project.
From the thousand-plus pages of candidates sent by Wang Zhifeng, he only needed to pick fifty people.
Excluding himself and Wang Zhifeng, he needed forty-eight more.
Mo Xuzhi sighed and kept clicking the “X”.
After only looking through a few dozen, a staff member from the program crew called him to do a task, further slowing down an already slow process.
Returning from a whole afternoon of fishing, Mo Xuzhi took a shower, opened his computer, and began looking at candidates again.
Droplets of water still hung from his fine hair, and a bath towel was draped over his shoulders. Mo Xuzhi propped his chin, hesitating over a candidate.
The interface of the phone placed beside him was still on the chat box with Wang Zhifeng. Mo Xuzhi conveniently gave him a call, and after doing so, put the phone back aside and continued looking at the computer.
Wang Zhifeng always answered the phone very quickly.
It only rang twice before the WeChat call was connected.
Wang Zhifeng’s voice came through the phone, “What is it?”
Mo Xuzhi lowered his head slightly, his eyes still on the computer screen, and asked, “Chen Jun from the C-City Research Institute—do you think he’s suitable for the CI Project?”
“One moment,” the sound of Wang Zhifeng typing on a keyboard came through, followed by the sound of flipping paper. He said, “This computer is calculating something else; I’ll switch to another one.”
Mo Xuzhi gave an “um” and said, “No rush.”
Half a minute later, Wang Zhifeng said, “Okay, go ahead.”
“I looked at his resume. He is indeed excellent and meets the selection criteria, but look at the second page of his information… the personal situation section,” Mo Xuzhi said. “His mother is now eighty-two years old. She was hospitalized three months ago and diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease. Two months ago, she was diagnosed with cancer.”
Wang Zhifeng understood what Mo Xuzhi meant.
The CI Project was a national level-one project, highly confidential. Once the project began, all participating personnel were not allowed to contact the outside world, nor could they tell anyone they were leaving to participate in the CI Project.
This meant there was no advance notice; all participants would essentially vanish from the face of the earth.
From a humanitarian standpoint, Chen Jun’s situation was difficult.
The project hadn’t started yet; there was currently only a thin theoretical foundation. No one was sure what unexpected accidents might occur during development, nor how long it would take. At least two years, possibly four or more.
A lot can happen in just a few months, let alone years.
“Don’t worry too much,” Wang Zhifeng said on the other end of the phone. “Did you see the mark in front? He’s a volunteer.”
Compiling such application materials took a lot of time, and it also took time to pass approval and reach Mo Xuzhi’s hands. As long as he had even a moment of regret during that period and withdrew the application, he could easily remove his name from the list.
But he didn’t.
The fact that this application could reach Mo Xuzhi’s hands already proved his determination.
“True.”
Mo Xuzhi dragged Chen Jun’s application to the preliminary list, then leaned back against the seat, relaxing. He asked Wang Zhifeng, “What are you doing now?”
“Looking at my phone.”
Mo Xuzhi smiled, “I’m looking at my phone too.”
Their exchange was dull and lacked substance, yet it was surprisingly relaxing. They occasionally chatted like this.
Wang Zhifeng’s voice carried a smile as he said, “I meant for you to look at your phone.”
Mo Xuzhi then held his phone up.
Then he saw an unfamiliar room.
White walls, solid wood bookshelves, and a desk with three computers.
Mo Xuzhi: “?”
“When did I make a video call?”
“You’ve been on video from the start.”
The camera shifted, a white collar flashed by, and the lens focused on the lower half of Wang Zhifeng’s face.
He asked, “You washed your hair and didn’t blow-dry it again?”
Careless!
Mo Xuzhi moved and then quickly turned the camera away, acting as if nothing had happened.
“Remember that time you caught a cold? You were sent to the medical school as a living subject for experiments. And back in August…”
Knock knock—
Wang Zhifeng’s unhurried voice came through. As soon as Mo Xuzhi heard this tone, he knew Wang was about to start another lecture on life and safety. Fortunately, a knock came from the door. He was startled for a moment, then overjoyed.
“Someone’s here for me, let’s stop for now. See you next week.”
“This…”
He hung up quickly.
Wang Zhifeng looked at the screen that had gone dark, fell silent for a moment, and ultimately didn’t say the words.
—It’s late, stay safe.
Mo Xuzhi opened the door.
The person standing outside was Luo Wenyun.
He looked down, seeing the youth’s still-damp hair.
Other people lived next to the room, and staff would occasionally walk around. To avoid unnecessary trouble, Mo Xuzhi thought briefly and let Luo Wenyun in.
As soon as Luo Wenyun entered the room, he saw the large pile of documents stacked on the desk.
Mo Xuzhi roughly tidied the documents, switched the computer screen to the main interface, moved the files on another stool, and made space for Luo Wenyun.
“Is something the matter so late?”
Mo Xuzhi leaned against the desk, his pajamas loosely worn, his hair a bit messy. His expression looked entirely lazy with a hint of slight impatience, like a small animal that had been disturbed while resting.
“…”
Luo Wenyun was silent for a while, finally looking away. He didn’t look at Mo Xuzhi’s expression anymore and said in a low voice, “I’m here to talk business with you.”
Mo Xuzhi looked up, “Go on.”
“I’ll tell you later,” Luo Wenyun said, looking down at his hands and the pen clipped to his pocket. “Before that, I have a question for you.”
Mo Xuzhi narrowed his eyes and said lazily, “Ask.”
“Do you care about… are you afraid of online comments?”
“As long as there’s money,” Mo Xuzhi said, looking at Luo Wenyun and thinking about the thousand-plus pages of application materials in his computer. His fingers couldn’t help but slowly tap on the desk. “Say what you have to say.”
If someone from the Academy were here, they would definitely leave without a word.
Whenever Mo Xuzhi tapped the desk, it meant nothing good was coming, and it also signaled that his patience was nearly exhausted.
He had always disliked having his work time occupied by things he considered irrelevant.
But Luo Wenyun didn’t know.
He was silent for another while, finally taking a check from his coat pocket and filling in his name in front of Mo Xuzhi.
“Here is eighty million. I will add more when I have liquid capital later.”
Luo Wenyun looked directly into Mo Xuzhi’s eyes and said, “I’m buying your retirement from the industry. Can you do it?”