The last meteor fell to earth.

All the drones returned to base. The deep, dark sky returned to silence. The stadium, which had turned off all lighting for the drone performance, lit up once again.

But the tens of thousands of Haijing citizens present remained stirred for a long time. Everyone was still immersed in the shock and awe of that final, magnificent meteor shower and couldn’t snap out of it for a while.

Online, all the netizens who had watched the drone show via livestream also felt an unparalleled sense of awe.

[That was too beautiful. Too beautiful!!! How was this even designed?!]

[Absolutely incredible! This was my first time seeing a meteor shower—are real ones like this?]

[Of course not. It’s hard to see a real meteor shower on Earth, usually just a few meteors… Haimeng really outdid themselves this time. How did they even pull this off?]

[The earlier patterns were amazing too. My buddy works with drones and says that drone formation programming is extremely complex. Just the pattern design alone takes a ton of time, and there’s always a risk of failure.]

[…Am I the only one who noticed that final segment of code? I seriously suspect the programmer went insane!!]

[Still, that code pattern, even though I didn’t understand it, was really beautiful. There’s a kind of scientific beauty to it.]

[Aaaah I’m going crazy! My bestie invited me to see it live at Haimeng tonight, but I didn’t want to squeeze in with the crowd, and now I regret it so much I could cry.]

[I was there in person, and I can tell you responsibly—it’s a thousand times more stunning live!!!!]

Some people mentioned the confusion and failure at the beginning of the show, but in contrast to the spectacular turnaround that followed, the initial failure now felt more like a setup for a dramatic comeback. The citizens and online viewers didn’t know the details. According to popular science posts online, if the show had truly failed in the beginning, it would’ve been impossible to reprogram everything on the spot. So everyone assumed the plot twist was intentional—and found it even more interesting because of it.

After the shock faded, cheers and applause like ocean waves rose from the entire stadium and around the Haimeng Mall.

The city center was packed with people, as if everyone had just attended an extraordinary carnival. Some spontaneously raised their hands and began clapping. The elevated mood was contagious. More and more people joined in until a wave of applause swept through the crowd.

Media photographers scrambled to climb to higher ground, raising their cameras to record the rare scene in full.

Some sharp-nosed journalists already realized that the person behind this breathtaking show might be the real headline and tried to rush the control platform for interviews.

However, Meng Yucheng and other Meng Group shareholders were all present, and security personnel quickly surrounded the area, professionally stopping the reporters and maintaining order at the control platform.

In front of the platform, Meng Group personnel and the original drone control team stood frozen in place, dead silent.

Especially those from Meng Yuguan’s faction—their expressions were complex and full of mixed emotions, part joy, part embarrassment, and a bit at a loss.

The joy, naturally, came from the fact that the drone show they had assumed was a failure had actually succeeded—far more brilliantly than they had ever expected.

Everyone present was a seasoned businessperson, and by now, they could already foresee the enormous impact this show would have on the Meng Group.

The massive exposure of Haimeng Mall went without saying. Even without the media outlets specially invited by the Meng Group, the organic buzz generated by citizens alone would flood social media—and with overwhelming praise.

It could be said that the mall’s reputation had been successfully established, along with its high-end image positioning. Foot traffic in the short term would only increase, and as long as operations continued smoothly, the success of this project was all but assured.

But the bigger gain was clearly in the drone market.

The tech industry was undeniably the new trend. Meng Siyun’s earlier investments had been solid, but the costs were equally immense—especially in R&D, which was a bottomless pit. A small lag could result in being eliminated from the market and losing everything.

Acquiring the drone company had been a key part of Meng Siyun’s strategy. He had clashed many times with Meng Yuguan’s conservative faction over this.

But just as the drone business was getting started, Meng Siyun was in a car accident. Although shareholders sympathized with him, they were more concerned about the potential impact on business. Meng Yuguan’s faction had repeatedly expressed that the company should never have invested so heavily in such an unfamiliar field.

Yet tonight’s performance was enough to erase all those concerns. Even those shareholders who didn’t understand technology could tell from the industry reports they’d read what this show really meant.

Meng’s drone business would now take off, with orders flooding in.

The biggest feature of this industry was its high investment, but equally high potential profit. The drone business—and Meng Siyun’s entire emerging tech strategy—could very well become the Meng Group’s next explosive growth area.

Naturally, this was something to be happy about.

But Meng Yuguan and his people had just publicly insulted Meng Feixuan and made it abundantly clear that they intended to kick Meng Siyun while he was down. Now it was incredibly awkward.

Everyone in Meng Yuguan’s faction had red ears and fidgeted uneasily.

Meng Siyun had reappeared for the first time since the car accident six months ago—and what a spectacular comeback. After tonight, his position in the company wouldn’t be weakened by his health—it would rise even higher.

They couldn’t take him down. But now, he had more leverage to take them down.

Meng Yuguan’s face turned extremely grim.

Meng Yucheng, on the other hand, only glanced at them out of the corner of his eye. He had no intention of arguing right now. The more important person stood in front of him.

“Mr. Xie, hello.” Meng Yucheng stepped forward and sincerely shook hands with Xie Ran: “I apologize for our earlier neglect. I hope you’ll forgive us.”

In truth, neither he nor his wife had been outright rude before—there had just been a clear distance due to the status gap, and certainly no warmth.

But now, Xie Ran’s image in Meng Yucheng’s mind had completely changed.

Meng Yucheng didn’t understand tech, but he understood markets—and the value of talent.

The drone show just displayed to all of Haijing’s citizens may have been labeled as Meng’s, but in truth, the core technology didn’t belong to Meng Group.

It belonged to Xie Ran.

In other words, if Meng’s drone business wanted to truly succeed, the most important condition was that Xie Ran was willing to contribute.

And if word got out about what had just happened at the control platform, drone companies—and tech firms all across the country—would fight to recruit Xie Ran.

Earlier, he and his wife had thought Xie Ran, a low-born internet celebrity, might not be a great match for Meng Siyun and even worried the shareholders might object.

Now, Meng Yucheng realized how wrong he’d been.

Based on what Xie Ran had just demonstrated, not even an old-money family or a rising tech tycoon would dare treat him with anything less than the utmost respect.

Meng Yucheng even began to wonder—maybe Meng Siyun had only fallen for Xie Ran because of his tech skills? Maybe he’d taken advantage of him?

Xie Ran himself showed no change in demeanor—he was still calm and businesslike. He briefly shook hands back: “No worries.”

“I wonder if Mr. Xie would be interested in taking a position at one of our subsidiaries—the one Siyun is managing,” Meng Yucheng said. Afraid Xie Ran might get poached, he dropped all pretenses and extended a direct inVittation: “You can name your own salary and title.”

That offer was nothing short of shocking. Several Meng Group shareholders visibly changed expression—but no one dared voice a single word of objection.

The engineering team, which had been dazed for most of the night, finally snapped out of it. The chief engineer immediately grew excited and shouted: “Yes, yes, come join us! Be our boss!”

Everyone else: “…” Have some dignity, will you?

But Xie Ran remained unmoved and replied calmly: “No, I have a job.”

That one line changed the atmosphere again. Just moments ago, they’d thought Meng Yucheng’s offer was too generous—but now that Xie Ran had refused, everyone grew even more anxious.

With his skills, Xie Ran was definitely not someone who would go unnoticed. If he wasn’t joining Meng Group, was he going to another company? If so, wouldn’t tonight’s show be helping the competition?

Meng Yuguan noticed this too—and was secretly delighted.

If Xie Ran didn’t accept Meng Yucheng’s offer, it meant he wasn’t an ally of Meng Siyun. Which meant Siyun’s comeback might not be as solid as it seemed.

In fact, if Xie Ran joined a rival company, they could use it against Siyun.

Thinking this, Meng Yuguan’s arrogance returned. He sneered and asked: “So, Mr. Xie, where are you employed?”

Everyone turned to Xie Ran, wary.

“Big Face Cat Live,” Xie Ran said casually, and even promoted himself smoothly: “Want my stream room number?”

Meng Yuguan: “…?”

Everyone else also had a giant question mark over their heads.

He’d just rejected Meng Yucheng’s absurdly generous offer… for livestreaming?

Someone belatedly recalled—oh right, Xie Ran was a streamer. He’d been invited tonight just to promote the event.

But seriously, with skills like that, why was he livestreaming?

And if he had such amazing skills, why was he livestreaming in the first place?!

Everyone seemed to reach this realization at the same time—and were collectively left speechless.

Meng Yucheng’s emotions were complex. But for the sake of the company’s future and Siyun’s rise, he wanted to keep trying.

Just then, Xie Ran looked at Meng Feixuan. His gaze lowered slightly, and his voice softened: “But I share my technology with him.”

He meant it quite literally—Meng Feixuan already had this knowledge in his database. With his abilities, he could handle these issues easily. It was shared knowledge between them.

Though Meng Feixuan’s operations were limited by his physical body, Xie Ran would naturally stay by his side. That was a given.

But to everyone else, the meaning was different. They all knew how valuable that technology was, and Xie Ran just casually said he shared it with Meng Siyun—without even setting conditions.

Meng Yucheng felt both relieved and stunned. Was Xie Ran being too good to Siyun?

Was Siyun some kind of witch doctor?!

On the other side, Meng Yuguan and his son Meng Sien looked grim. If Xie Ran was sharing technology with Meng Siyun, that was an even bigger threat than joining his company directly.

Meng Yuguan’s thoughts spun rapidly as he searched for a countermeasure. But then—

Xie Ran looked at him slowly and said: “Don’t forget what you just said.”

Meng Yuguan stiffened and pretended to be confused: “…Wh-what?”

Xie Ran didn’t bother arguing. He simply gave a slight chuckle and tapped the play button on the computer.

A recording played loud and clear: “If you can pull this off… I’ll raise both hands to support Siyun taking the CEO position.”

It was unmistakably Meng Yuguan’s voice.

Meng Yuguan: !!

His faction: !!!

He even recorded it?! So shameless!

Everyone else: Pfft.