Chapter 7: The Young Lady Has Been Eating Sand for Three Years, Part 6

After all, the original self had once done Gu Yeting a great favor, yet Gu Yeting repaid kindness with enmity. In the original self’s commission, there was no mention of revenge against Gu Yeting—only the daughter was mentioned. Clearly, protecting his daughter was more important to him than seeking retribution.

But that didn’t mean he had no desire for vengeance—only that as long as Qin Yue was shielded, Qin Ye’s task would be complete. Everything else was left to his own discretion. Now that Qin Yue was far away in East Africa, let the protagonist try to drag the plotline over there if he had the ability. But that seemed unlikely. Gu Yeting probably couldn’t even afford a plane ticket now—unless, perhaps, he ended up trafficked there.

Qin Ye’s mood had been decent until now, but after Ye Xiaoxiao’s little dance, his spirits soured considerably.

“Chairman Qin…” The assistant called his name cautiously, as if afraid of incurring his wrath.

Truth be told, ever since the young lady had been sent away, those who served as Chairman Qin’s assistants found their days suddenly much easier. Apart from his one flaw—dotage over his daughter, which wasn’t really a flaw at all—Chairman Qin was an excellent boss. He was gentle with people, never scolded without reason; working under him meant a high salary without having to play the scapegoat.

The only issue was his daughter obsession—frequently changing plans at her request, and even giving up the chance to expand the business further or become the world’s richest man just to celebrate his daughter’s birthday. For the ambitious, such behavior was incomprehensible.

If only Chairman Qin weren’t such a doting father, the Qin Group would never be limited to its current scale.

The assistant tread carefully, and Qin Ye replied with little enthusiasm.

“According to your previous plan, you intended to cooperate with the state on more non-profit public welfare projects. Some board members have chosen to withdraw, but the rest are willing to participate. I have drafted a list of those willing to take part…”

Qin Ye perked up a little, taking the file his assistant handed him and flipping through it.

His initial interest had been in the military industry, but after a mix-up, he inadvertently made a breakthrough in holographic technology, which also led to the creation of a phenomenally popular game. The day’s revenue left the old-guard executives—staunch advocates of traditional industries—utterly dumbfounded.

Qin Ye hadn’t developed the game himself, but since he was the principal investor, most of the profits fell to him.

After reading more, Qin Ye realized that anything with “military” in its name was off-limits to private entrepreneurs. With further study, he found another path—aligning himself with powerful allies. Hence the charitable activities.

Some board members had built the company alongside the original self. Their own abilities weren’t necessarily impressive; much of their current status was due to the original self’s loyalty to old friends.

In the storyline, when the Qin Group collapsed, the original self—who was specifically targeted—suffered the greatest loss. Gu Yeting, devastated by Ye Xiaoxiao’s departure, finally realized he had always loved her, though he’d never understood his own heart. Then, in a collective fit of madness, the ungrateful protagonist blamed everything on Qin Yue. Instead of seeking out Ye Xiaoxiao, he tormented Qin Yue, believing that if she, his former white moonlight, suffered enough, Ye Xiaoxiao would understand his true feelings.

In short, it was the sort of baffling logic Qin Ye could neither comprehend nor condone.

Back then, anyone who tried to help the Qin family would face Gu Yeting’s retaliation. Yet, even so, there were still those willing to lend a hand—and they all suffered for it. Many of these people were the very same board members now willing to join Qin Ye in his non-profit ventures.

The original self was deeply loyal, treating the earliest founders generously. These old-timers reciprocated, placing blind trust in him. If asked, they would admit they’d never have achieved such success on their own. As the Qin Group grew, they’d long since failed to keep up with the times; it was the original self who had lifted them up, so naturally, they would stand by him.

At worst, they would return to the beginning.

Of course, not everyone understood the importance of gratitude and reciprocation; such people gradually drifted away from the original self. All Qin Ye was doing now was filtering out another group.

He hadn’t set out to screen anyone—he simply acted as he pleased.

Qin Ye remained fixated on military technology. The more he read, the more intrigued he became by those so-called world-ending weapons, the technological masterpieces that, in his original world, only the most formidable cultivators could hope to wield with such ease.

But in this world, those effects were achieved by the marvels of human intellect; humans themselves remained weak. This only deepened Qin Ye’s fascination.

It was far better to immerse himself in his interests than be entangled in the protagonist and heroine’s endless tug-of-war.

He ignored their storyline entirely, focusing instead on aligning himself with the authorities of this small world, with excellent results. Officialdom regarded him highly, opening doors and granting privileges, calling him an unselfish, outstanding, and patriotic entrepreneur.

Qin Ye possessed a powerful spirit, an eidetic memory, and a keen mind. His only disadvantage was that this was his first contact with such knowledge—he had to start from scratch, so progress was slow.

Fortunately, he had no intention of becoming a scientist or conducting research himself. He was content to listen to the researchers’ ideas, his eyes lighting up with excitement, and, most of all, to throw money—lots of money—at them.

He spent so much that his own cash flow began to tighten. His assistant, face drawn, gently advised him to rein in his generosity.

Qin Ye had inherited the original self’s skills and experience; he wasn’t deaf to advice.

After reviewing the financial statements, Qin Ye fell into thought—clearly, the original self simply wasn’t wealthy enough.

Otherwise, how could the protagonist have so easily turned the tables and brought him down?

He couldn’t keep pouring money from the company into these projects—that would affect other accounts.

He pondered for a while, then began to audit his own assets. To his surprise, they were substantial.

Much of it had been set aside by the original self as a contingency for his daughter. In business, smooth sailing for a lifetime is a fantasy. The original self had suffered heavy losses before—enough to almost ruin him.

It was because of that disaster that he made plans for his daughter’s future.

Unfortunately, in the storyline, the original self fell seriously ill—paralyzed, unable to speak, and with Gu Yeting hounding him relentlessly, he had no chance to tell Qin Yue about these hidden assets.

Qin Ye believed that even if he did go bankrupt as in the plot, he would never collapse from illness, nor would he ever become a burden to Qin Yue.

So, there was no need to keep those assets in reserve.

He invested everything in research.

He kept only the Qin family villa and the car he was used to driving. All future profits he split seventy-thirty: seventy percent to charity, thirty percent to continued research investment.

Those aware of his actions were convinced he’d lost his mind.

Who gives away everything, leaving nothing for themselves? Investing, they could understand—but giving it all to charity? Did he think he was a saint?

Some even came in person to try and talk some sense into him.

Qin Ye handled them with a smile—“Say what you want; I won’t listen.”

Some were genuinely concerned he’d end up penniless or in dire straits. Others, however, were simply delusional, treating the Qin family’s assets as their own.

The original self’s parents were dead, his wife too, but that didn’t mean he had no other relatives—on both his wife’s and his own side, there were plenty. At the first sign of opportunity, they all came swarming out of the woodwork.

At first, the original self tried to help where he could, but after his daughter was born and his wife’s health was damaged, making further children impossible, all sorts of leeches emerged. Some sent women, some even sent sons, all believing that since Qin Yue wasn’t a boy, the Qin family fortune should rightfully be theirs.

If that wasn’t delusional, what was? Even the truly insane wouldn’t dare dream so boldly.

Part of the reason his wife died was due to such malicious gossip, which left her in low spirits.

After her death, their attention turned to Qin Yue. The original self lost his temper once and cut them off; only then did they back off.

But backing off didn’t mean giving up their designs on his money.

In the storyline, when the original self was left with nothing and gravely ill—desperate for help—not one of these “helped” relatives came to his aid. They all avoided him like the plague.

Now, hearing that Qin Ye was liquidating his assets to invest in research, and giving away seventy percent of new profits to charity, these relatives, who had always regarded the Qin family wealth as their own, could no longer sit still.

In their eyes, Qin Yue was a girl; how could the Qin family legacy fall to her? Impossible—they had sons, Qin Ye did not, so the family fortune should be theirs.

Qin Ye never expected that one day a long-lost elder—his grandfather’s brother, whom he ought to call Great-Uncle—would show up at his door.

The old man, hair completely white, arrived in a wheelchair, pushed by his children.

At first, Great-Uncle’s children made small talk, but their patience wore thin quickly, and they cut to the chase.

“It’s not that I want to lecture you, but at your age, why are you still messing around like a youngster?” said one, who looked even older than Qin Ye, in a scolding tone. Perhaps he felt bold with his father present.

Qin Ye merely cast him a cool glance, and the man immediately fell silent, shrinking behind his father’s wheelchair.

The original self was over fifty, nearing sixty, and had suffered much in his youth, his appearance reflecting those hardships. His parents had had him late, so his Great-Uncle’s son was older than he was; Great-Uncle himself was already pushing eighty, in poor health, and barely lucid.

He’d only come today because his children insisted. He said little, but when he saw Qin Ye, he waved and called him “Big Brother,” probably mistaking him for his own elder sibling, long deceased.