Start by Spending One Billion [Entertainment Industry]-Chapter 87

He loved gaming, but he also valued his life.

Just like his in-game strategies, every step seemed to teeter on the edge of disaster—others thought he was reckless, but in truth, he always landed safely.

Take the tournament, for example. After Sheng Quan increased her bets, she confirmed her suspicions: Tan Chen had been deliberately holding back to manage his injuries.

Even though he hated it. Even though he craved victory.

But this was the only way he could earn a living while keeping his physical strain under control.

"You can’t have your cake and eat it too"—this saying didn’t exist in Tan Chen’s world. He walked that precarious line, protecting his teammates, protecting himself, and still securing wins.

Strictly speaking, he was also a bit of a schemer.

He could’ve made a name for himself early on, but to avoid being targeted by major clubs, he’d kept Team Breaking Waves under the radar until the global tournament.

Now, those big clubs were probably cursing this dark horse that had suddenly emerged.

But it made sense.

Back in his playing days, even his basic attacks were part of a grander scheme—chaining combos only to finish off opponents with a single, calculated normal hit. A true mastermind.

As Sheng Quan pieced everything together, she couldn’t help but remark to 006:

[No wonder skilled gamers are all so cunning.]

But no matter how cunning Tan Chen was, it had all been to protect Team Breaking Waves. Who would’ve thought he’d be stabbed in the back by the very people he shielded?

After mentioning she owned a club, Sheng Quan steered the conversation to Bai Xiangyuan:

“Why did he leave the team?”

Tan Chen’s reaction was noticeably sluggish. He didn’t even seem to grasp that Sheng Quan was the one speaking to him, let alone process her claim about owning a club.

The young man sat on the steps, blinking slowly before answering:

“He said… his current performance deserves a bigger, better club.”

His tone was flat, as if it didn’t hurt at all.

Everything clicked into place.

Why had Tan Chen, despite everything going according to his plans, met such a tragic end in the book—succumbing to his injuries?

Because a teammate had abandoned him at the worst possible moment.

Sheng Quan had only meant to offer a few words of comfort, but she couldn’t help sighing.

She knew this feeling all too well.

Focusing on external challenges, only to be betrayed by someone you trusted.

Before she’d grown thick-skinned, she’d experienced it herself—pouring everything into mentoring a newcomer, only for them to turn around and try to climb over her the moment they gained footing.

Backstabbing was common in the workplace, and Sheng Quan had long since grown numb to it. She could accept it from anyone—except the one she’d personally nurtured, the one who’d gushed "Thank you, Sis Quan! You’re the best!"

At the time, it had devastated her. She’d been afraid to mentor anyone new for a long while, needing time to rebuild her confidence.

Of course, even in her pain, she hadn’t been idle.

She’d returned the newcomer’s betrayal tenfold, then cheerfully watched as they were shown the door.

But it had still stung. Hell, she’d even get attached to a goldfish.

Clearly, Tan Chen was still in that wounded stage.

Sheng Quan: “Well, his loss. Breaking Waves will become the biggest and best club.”

Tan Chen’s voice was barely audible: “That’s… what I told him too.”

He sounded like he was on the verge of collapse.

Sensing something was off, Sheng Quan asked, “Where are you right now? Have you been drinking? Did you eat?”

“No drinking. No food. Just… getting some air.”

Sheng Quan, well-versed in these signs: Either he’s pulling an all-nighter or he’s sick.

She pressed further: “Looks like it’s about to rain. Do you have an umbrella?”

Tan Chen glanced at the broken umbrella beside him, its Team Breaking Waves logo still visible.

—"Take your damn umbrella back! Tell Chen Mo and the others to stop acting like I’ve wronged them. From now on, you’re on your own!"

—"All that talk about ‘protecting us’ by limiting transfers and matches? You just didn’t want us to succeed!"

—"Yeah, you trained me. But I’m this season’s Rookie King. Did you really expect me to rot in a place where the whole team shares one decent setup?"

—"Sky War Club has seven rigs, including an E3. They’re offering me a spot—what would you choose? Thanks for everything, Tan-ge, but this is just how the world works. I can still make it to Globals with them. Without me, Breaking Waves can’t even field a full roster."

The umbrella had been snapped violently, its broken frame clattering to the ground before its owner slowly picked it up.

Tan Chen closed his eyes, pushing Bai Xiangyuan’s words away. “The umbrella’s broken.”

Sheng Quan: …That sounds familiar.

She was pretty sure she’d once broken an umbrella in similar weather.

Tan Chen’s tone was eerily calm, though his words were disjointed—maybe mistaking Sheng Quan for a sponsor who’d called earlier:

“Don’t worry. Breaking Waves will compete in the next match.”

“All partnerships will proceed as agreed. If you want to terminate, we’ll discuss it tomorrow. Thank you. Goodbye.”

The call ended.

Sheng Quan was now certain: Tan Chen was not in his right mind.

She glanced at the darkening sky. “Is it about to start pouring?”

Jiang Lu, standing behind her, followed her gaze to the gathering storm clouds. “Within five minutes.”

Sheng Quan: Getting caught in the rain whenever something heartbreaking happens—what kind of protagonist trope is this?

But then again, Fangcheng has always been a rainy city, so it somehow makes sense.

She closed the window and said to He Xi, who was working at the small desk:

"Contact the 'Let’s Travel Together' program team and ask them to look around for Tan Chen nearby. He should still be around the filming location. Have them check on his current condition."

Tan Chen was a highly responsible person. In a situation like this, he would never stray too far from the rest of the team. He might’ve even calmly reassured everyone before slipping away to deal with his emotions alone.

He Xi agreed and had just found the program team’s contact information when she saw Sheng Quan—who usually hated going out in the rain—suddenly stand up and stride toward the door:

"Never mind. Just ask them where they’re filming right now. I’ll go there myself."

Jiang Lu silently followed behind, picking up the coat Sheng Quan had forgotten and gently draping it over her shoulders.

He Xi quickly caught up while contacting the program team, her eyes lingering on the tall man’s gesture of placing the coat over Sheng Quan.

The assistant, who aspired to be Sheng Quan’s right-hand woman, nodded to herself: This is good. I should learn this too.

Next time something like this happened, she’d definitely remember to bring Sheng Quan a coat.

Sheng Quan never liked going out in the rain. Back when she was betrayed by a newcomer, she was still young and inexperienced, suffering blows to both her emotions and career. The pressure of work weighed heavily on her, and she struggled to survive in the big city without even a single friend to confide in.

So on one rainy day, she found herself clutching a bottle of alcohol under the awning of a barbecue stall, silently crying.

Between sobs, she cursed inwardly.

The stall owner noticed and, assuming she’d been through a bad breakup, kindly handed her a skewer of grilled chicken hearts. The taste of those skewers stayed with Sheng Quan to this day.

Holding the skewer and looking at the kind woman, Sheng Quan suddenly broke down into loud, ugly sobs. The stall owner comforted her for a long time.

Later, when she finished eating and headed home, she had brought an umbrella—but as if misfortune truly came in waves, hers turned out to be just as useless as Tan Chen’s.

Well, technically, it wasn’t broken. It might’ve been too close to the grill while she ate, because it ended up with a large burnt hole in it.

In the end, she walked home under that ruined umbrella, feeling the rain drip through the hole onto her head. Thank goodness there were hardly any pedestrians on the streets that day.

Her memory was just too good.

Every time it rained, she’d recall the image of herself wailing like a child.

Looking back on it now was like digging up the cringey Mary Sue fanfiction she’d secretly written in school—the kind where "the heroine had rainbow-colored hair"—and wanting to crawl into a hole out of sheer embarrassment.

Back ​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‍when she was just a corporate drone, she had no choice. Rain or shine—hell, even if it were hailing knives—she had to clock in for work.

But now that she was the chairwoman, Sheng Quan refused to suffer unnecessarily. If the rain got too heavy, she simply wouldn’t go out. If she had to, she’d wait for it to lighten up.

Strictly speaking, this was the first time since her transmigration that she’d stepped out in such a downpour.

Surprisingly, it didn’t feel too bad.

Sheng Quan figured it was because Jiang Lu was right beside her, holding the umbrella and shielding her from the wind.

Jiang Lu was truly professional—he even blocked the splashing raindrops for her.

Fangcheng was a small city.

Sheng Quan quickly reached the program team’s filming location and just as easily found Tan Chen.

Tan Chen wasn’t crying.

He leaned against a wall, sitting on the steps as if lost in thought.

Though he wasn’t directly in the rain, his white dress shirt was already half-soaked from the windblown drizzle. A short strand of hair clung damply to his forehead, and the flushed hue of his cheeks made it obvious he was running a fever.

Despite the fever, Tan Chen’s expression remained as composed as ever. He even slowly lifted his gaze to look at Sheng Quan before sluggishly shifting to the side—as if making room for her to pass through the back door.

Then, Sheng Quan handed him an umbrella.

"Here. This one’s not broken."

Hearing the familiar voice, Tan Chen froze, blinking slowly.

His lashes were long, now damp with rainwater, making his usually sharp eyes appear fragile. "...You’re… Wo Jiangshan?"

Sheng Quan marveled. As expected of a pro gamer—his recognition skills are top-tier. Even burning up like this, he can still tell who I am.

Tan Chen gradually processed the situation. He looked down at his phone, then back up at Sheng Quan. "You were the one who called me earlier."

"You were worried about me? Thank you."

After expressing his gratitude, he paused for another two seconds before adding, "You’re in Fangcheng too? What a coincidence."

Then, as an afterthought: "Thank you."

Sheng Quan: "You’re just realizing that?"

How high is his fever? Good thing she’d brought a doctor along.

As for why she had a personal physician tagging along on her trip to Fangcheng—and why the doctor was willing to come—the answer was simple: business trip bonus.

Sheng Quan hadn’t just brought a doctor, though. She’d also picked up something else along the way.

By the time the doctor took his temperature, Tan Chen had regained a bit of clarity.

When he turned to Sheng Quan, the girl pressed something into his hand.

He looked down: a skewer of grilled chicken hearts—completely out of place in this situation.

Sheng Quan: "You haven’t eaten, right? Have this, then get some proper rest."

Tan Chen stared at it for a long moment before finally taking a bite.

Sheng Quan asked, "How is it?"

His voice was muffled. "Disgusting."

Sheng Quan refused to believe it. How could any grilled skewer possibly taste bad?

She turned and grabbed another skewer from He Xi.

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One bite later, Chairwoman Sheng immediately made a face.

"Bleh! No wonder that stall had the least customers!"

How do you even mess up grilled skewers?

She refused to eat any more.

Meanwhile, Tan Chen—who had called it disgusting—lowered his head and quietly continued eating, one bite after another.

A tear fell. Then another.

"Thank you."

Hearing the slight tremble in his own voice, he took a deep breath, trying to steady himself:

"Sorry. I’m being unprofessional."

"It’s fine."

Sheng Quan patted his shoulder. When he lifted his teary eyes to look at her, she nodded understandingly:

"Totally get it."

"Anyone would cry after eating something this bad."