"How much is an exclusive diamond annual membership for Mission Hills?"

In the living room, Zhang Peng finally finished his work. His gaze drifted involuntarily toward Lin Chu’s room. The presidential suite was well soundproofed, so he couldn’t hear a thing—not that he had any intention of eavesdropping. Glancing at the card on the table, he casually looked it up.

He quickly found the answer.

2.6 million.

His sharp Adam’s apple bobbed. Zhang Peng took a deep breath, lit a cigarette, and took a long, hard drag before exhaling a thick plume of smoke, his eyes wide with shock.

’What the hell?’

’2.6 million!’

’This one card is worth half the company! A Bentley! A third of a condo!’

Then he thought about what Lin Chu had said—that it was a gift from a friend. What kind of friend gives a gift like that?

He searched again: "Can a Mission Hills golf annual membership be transferred?"

He quickly found the answer to that, too.

It could be transferred. A secondhand annual pass sold for about 60% of the original price. The name could be changed, but it required a transfer fee of 150,000.

Even so, a rough calculation showed it could still be sold for around 1.5 million.

"Huuuh..."

A bitter smile touched the corners of Zhang Peng’s mouth. ’Brother Chu, are you using this to test your cadres? What kind of cadre could possibly withstand a test like this?’

As the company’s general manager, his salary was 50,000 a month, as agreed upon from the start. Including the 10% bonus from company profits, it was already an executive-level income.

But this... 1.5 million was still a massive temptation.

However...

’If I sell the card, how are we supposed to play golf?’

’Besides, does Brother Chu not have hands? Can’t he sell a used card himself?’

With that thought, Zhang Peng’s mind instantly cleared.

’Sell it? My ass.’

One had to be able to distinguish between short-term gains and long-term benefits.

...

"President Hou, you up? Want to play golf tomorrow?"

They had gotten back early, and it was just past eleven now. Taking a break mid-session, Lin Chu leaned against the headboard, smoking and playing on his phone. He sent a message to Hou Chengjin to make a plan.

Hou Chengjin replied quickly. "Not asleep yet, I’m watching the livestreams. We’re all night owls in this business. Sure, sounds good, but it has to be after 2 PM. I can’t get up in the morning."

Lin Chu smiled. "Alright, 2 PM it is. It’s a date, then. Don’t you dare flake on me."

Meeting new friends was something Lin Chu actually found quite enjoyable.

Back when he was in financial sales, he enjoyed it because new clients meant potential commissions.

Now, there was also a high chance of generating "commissions."

Besides, in his current circle, he was already the "big boss." There was no challenge, and he wasn’t learning anything new. He needed to find peers, or even people of a higher "rank," to broaden his horizons.

’Damn! This mindset was forged back when I was just a corporate drone—constantly breaking out of my comfort zone, always climbing.’

The thought gave Lin Chu a sudden pang of annoyance.

"Be gentler..."

He murmured to the side of his leg.

Jin Jiaying, who was crouched there, immediately softened her movements.

Hou Chengjin messaged again: "No flaking, no flaking. I have the best reputation, I guarantee I’ll be on time. Do you watch livestreams, President Lin? Want to come hang out in a stream?"

He was actively inviting him.

In reality, a significant part of a streaming company owner’s job was public relations.

Where did the big spenders in the streams come from?

Besides the streamers’ own efforts, the support of the team behind them was also crucial.

Someone like Lin Chu was naturally considered a big spender, and building a relationship with him was a good idea.

Of course, they had to get familiar first, nurture the connection. If a big spender really started throwing money around and became the top donor, setting them up with girls and whatnot was a must.

Lin Chu: "Sure, send me the link."

Hou Chengjin: "Our company is called Orange Media. We have streamers in all sorts of fields. Thanks for your support. What kind of content do you usually like to watch, President Lin?"

He sent a link along with the message.

Lin Chu copied and pasted it, taking a look. It was, as expected, a risqué female streamer. She was in a dance battle PK, with the beauty filter cranked up to who knows what level, but on screen, she looked genuinely enticing.

"Not a fan of the risqué stuff... Got anyone doing more creative content? Niche categories? Male streamers are fine, too."

Lin Chu was actually willing to spend some money on him. A little spending was no big deal, since he got rebates.

But he couldn’t ruin his own image. If people thought he was gay, how was he supposed to make friends in the future?

However, Lin Chu hadn’t expected Hou Chengjin’s keen perception. Hearing this, he asked, "President Lin, it’s not... what I think it is, is it? Or..."

People in their line of work were at the forefront of all the latest trends, so they were hardly fazed by it.

Lin Chu instantly understood what he meant. "No! Is your mind always in the gutter?"

Him: "Hahahaha, no worries, no worries. Do you like watching street pickup artists? We happen to have a contracted streamer doing street pickups in Tokyo. It’s pretty interesting."

Lin Chu: "That’s fine. Anything else? Send me a list."

Seeing this, Hou Chengjin’s heart skipped a beat. ’Wait, is this President Lin for real? Does he actually want to spend some money?’

’That can’t be right, can it?’

’This is only our first time meeting.’

Some dark thoughts even surfaced—’He’s not trying to poach our talent, is he? Or is he trying to pick out a concubine?’

The latter wasn’t a problem, as long as the price was right. But the former was something to be wary of.

After all, as the saying goes, when someone is overly attentive for no reason, they’re up to no good.

Still, sending a list of streamers wasn’t a big deal. In the world of fame and fortune, this is how they made a living. He just had to be a little careful.

He quickly sent over a spreadsheet.

Lin Chu glanced at it, feeling a little envious. Orange Media had over a hundred streamers across various platforms and fields. It seemed their operation was truly quite large.

They covered basically every category: looks, singing and dancing, gaming, outdoors, fishing, travel, food, single and divorced men and women, comedy, and even two disabled streamers.

Hm?

’This...’

Lin Chu thought for a moment, then copied a link and entered the stream.

The streamer’s name was: Hardworking Ah Liang.

It was a man whose right arm was amputated at the shoulder. He looked to be in his twenties and was using his left hand to hold a calligraphy brush, focused on writing. He was copying the *Lantingji Xu*, and his semi-cursive script was quite beautiful.

The stream had some viewers, but not many—a hundred or so people, and almost no gifts.

Clicking on his personal page, the bio read: "Former assembly line worker. Lost my arm in an accident. Livestreaming to make a living and work hard. I occasionally sell some products."

After a moment’s thought, Lin Chu tipped 100 Carnivals, which was 300,000 yuan, just to test the waters.

Instantly, the rebate notification popped up in front of him: 600,000 credited to his account.

When "Ah Liang" suddenly saw Carnivals soaring across his screen, he was completely stunned. One hundred of them. His brain just short-circuited.

What was happening?

’This can’t be fake donations from the company, can it?’

"Thank you..." 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝚠𝕖𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝕖𝚕.𝚌𝗼𝗺

He had just said two words when he noticed the top donor had already left.

...

This development was quickly reported by the company’s operations team to Hou Chengjin. After taking a look, he too was stunned.

What was going on?

Why would this President Lin choose such a niche streamer and tip a disabled person 300,000 yuan?

And he left right after donating?

’Wait...’

’What does he mean by this?’

’With so many streamers in the company, how did he make his decision? Why did he choose this one?’

Hou Chengjin wracked his brain but couldn’t come up with any logical explanation.

But damn, this guy was a true whale. He had tossed out 300,000 without even blinking.

Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he sent a message to Lin Chu: "President Lin (laughing-crying emoji), wait, what was that all about? I don’t quite understand."

But Lin Chu didn’t reply.

By then, he was already clutching two long legs, having thrown himself back into battle.

While doing something utterly degenerate, he had just done something rather classy.

Lin Chu found it a bit bizarre himself, but it didn’t matter. He was just having fun.

...

...