Start by Spending One Billion [Entertainment Industry]-Chapter 127

"Do you know how many attendees the largest concert in the world has ever had?"

The scene rewinds to when the "Starry Sea" project was still in its planning stages.

During a private discussion with Sheng Quan, Zhang Han, the chief director in charge of the future concert, wore a wry smile that suggested she had "boarded a pirate ship."

Initially, when Starlight Entertainment offered her a hefty sum to lead what they described as a "challenging project," she had been excited by the prospect.

The integration of holographic technology with live performances—an unprecedented experience—was irresistible to someone like her, who had already reached the pinnacle of her field. Even without Starlight’s astronomical compensation, she would have eagerly joined such an ambitious venture.

But wanting to tackle a difficult project was one thing; signing up for what sounded like pure fantasy was entirely another.

At this moment, as she posed her question to Sheng Quan, Zhang Han couldn’t help feeling a twinge of disappointment toward the renowned Chairwoman Sheng.

Her swift acceptance of Starlight’s offer hadn’t been solely due to the staggering paycheck or her thirst for challenge. Another reason was her genuine admiration for Sheng Quan.

As a woman who had single-handedly shifted industry trends and brought Chinese cinema to the global stage, Sheng Quan was someone Zhang Han naturally looked up to.

But when Sheng Quan expressed her desire for the concert to host ten million attendees, the Chairwoman’s lofty image instantly crumbled into that of a "clueless client who makes outrageous demands without understanding the logistics."

Did Chairwoman Sheng even grasp how massive ten million people were?

Did she know that even large-scale concerts with tens of thousands of attendees often descended into chaos, with emergencies like fainting or stampedes?

Most importantly—where could ten million people possibly be seated to actually see the performance? The idea seemed downright impossible.

Zhang Han was internally screaming, but Sheng Quan remained unflustered, even after Zhang Han’s tone turned less than polite. Only when Zhang Han had calmed slightly did the young Starlight chairwoman respond in a measured voice:

"I’m aware that in 1998, Johnson held a free outdoor beach concert with roughly four million attendees."

"I also understand your concerns. The larger the crowd, the higher the risk of incidents. Historically, concerts have seen audience members faint or even die in stampedes. Proposing such a number does seem ludicrous—enough to make people question whether Starlight’s executives have collectively lost their minds."

Zhang Han blinked in surprise. "You know? Then why…?"

Sheng Quan slid a thick file across the table. Despite her youthful, strikingly beautiful appearance, she exuded a composure rare for her age.

"These are newly developed technologies. Combined with existing holographic systems, architectural blueprints, and advanced construction materials, we can rapidly build a venue specifically designed for this ten-million-attendee concert."

"The structure follows a honeycomb design, with the performance at its center. Paired with 3D holographic technology, every attendee will have an optimal view with the naked eye."

"Construction will adhere to the highest safety standards, with surveillance covering every section to ensure rapid staff response in emergencies. Of course, this is a monumental undertaking—but Starlight has been preparing for years. We’re confident in our ability to execute it."

Zhang Han flipped through the dense stack of documents.

Most project proposals weren’t this voluminous—high-level executives rarely had time to sift through excessive details. But this dossier was overwhelming. Spotting preparation timelines dating back over a year, she looked up in astonishment.

"Chairwoman Sheng, you started planning this early?"

She even found records showing that Starlight’s security subsidiary had begun "concert safety drills" a year and a half prior—clearly tailored for this event.

"At that point, holographic tech didn’t even exist yet."

Back then, Starlight hadn’t yet risen to become the entertainment industry’s top player in China.

Sheng Quan smiled faintly. Of course—she never fought battles unprepared.

Every corporate veteran knew that the bigger the project, the higher the risk of mishaps. The only way to ensure smooth execution was exhaustive advance planning.

This concert had begun as a mere idea. When Sheng Quan first conceived it, she had no certainty that Ning Zhou could deliver holographic technology, nor whether the plan was feasible.

Early groundwork meant massive upfront investment—yet she’d greenlit it anyway.

With her signature, every Starlight department had mobilized. Subsidiaries poured their resources into the project.

The hardest-hit was Tianying, where VFX artists, though avoiding all-nighters, saw their hairlines recede steadily. Yet their efforts yielded historic breakthroughs.

At the crossroads where holographic entertainment began eclipsing traditional media, they seized the moment. Tianying, once a minor Starlight subsidiary, now stood as a globally renowned effects studio.

From KAN Tech to Starlight Security, even Polar—every subsidiary had contributed silently to this grand vision.

Among Sheng Quan’s ventures, perhaps only the luosifen snack company had sat this one out.

As Zhang Han pored over the documents, her awe became inexpressible.

"So you’ve been preparing since back then."

No limits on manpower, funding, or time.

Such boldness, such decisiveness—now she understood how Starlight had climbed to the apex of China’s entertainment industry in mere years.

Sheng Quan watched her with a smile, exuding quiet confidence that Zhang Han wouldn’t decline the collaboration.

And indeed, Zhang Han couldn’t.

She’d encountered clients who, for profit, pushed unsafe plans despite knowing the risks to audiences.

Capitalists were predictable: if their schemes endangered lives, they’d just pay the fines.

But Sheng Quan—China’s top entertainment mogul, the epitome of wealth—had an almost "naive" streak when it came to audience safety.

She wasn’t Zhang Han’s first safety-conscious employer, but she was the most committed, spending lavishly where others cut corners.

And Zhang Han adored that "naivety."

Before signing, she asked one last question:

"But surely you realize—no one’s ever handled ten million concertgoers before."

Meaning Starlight had no precedent to follow.

"You've invested way too much money just to ensure safety. Even if ticket prices are high, these investments most likely won't be fully recouped. You could pull it off, but even if you do, Starlight would still be operating at a loss."

This was essentially a money-losing venture, and Zhang Han couldn’t understand why Sheng Quan would do such a thing.

"I know."

She saw Sheng Quan smile again—this time, with a hint of ambition flickering in her expression.

"Precisely because no one has done it before, that’s what makes it worth doing."

Sheng Quan was just about to stand up when the tall, ever-unobtrusive yet inexplicably intimidating bodyguard behind her draped a coat over her shoulders.

Before they parted ways, Zhang Han heard her say:

"This way, the whole world will know that Starlight accomplished what no one else could."

"Our Starlight will finally appear before the world."

—At that moment, Zhang Han was simply captivated by the sheer scale of Sheng Quan’s ambition.

From then on, she poured all her energy into the project—designing, preparing, refining.

Truthfully, with the new construction materials, the venue didn’t require much advance preparation. What puzzled Zhang Han more was how Sheng Quan had managed to secure such cutting-edge, nationally controlled materials.

She asked about it later, and Sheng Quan’s reply was that she knew some exceptionally talented researchers, all of whom were willing to give her special access.

As for the government’s stance, she claimed she wasn’t entirely sure—it just seemed like the authorities had always been lenient toward Starlight, granting them considerable autonomy in many areas.

Zhang Han thought about Starlight’s contributions to China: entertainment exports, guide-dog robots, hiring veterans, creating jobs for people with disabilities, Sheng Quan personally showing up at disaster relief sites, not to mention holographic films and games…

—Okay, that leniency made perfect sense.

But there was still something Zhang Han couldn’t wrap her head around.

Earlier, she had asked Sheng Quan where the concert would be held, and the answer was always, "I’m still deciding—give me some time."

After working closely with Sheng Quan, Zhang Han had come to deeply respect her employer, who appeared laid-back but had an uncanny grasp of every detail, big or small.

But!!!

Sheng Quan never mentioned that her so-called "venue selection" actually meant scouting for a private island!!!

And not just any island—the largest privately owned island in the world.

Thinking back to how she’d once urged Sheng Quan to hurry up and pick a location…

Zhang Han: …Help, is this what the world of the ultra-rich is like??

Naturally, she had no idea that Sheng Quan herself was basking in the euphoria of "I’m so lucky."

That’s right—this island… was something she won in a lottery.

Sheng Quan had been hoarding her lottery chances for a long time, mainly because she hadn’t been sure what she wanted.

That changed recently when, while attending an event abroad, she met a real-life princess from the nation of N—yes, an actual princess.

N wasn’t a large country, but as a monarchy, its royal family had accumulated considerable assets over generations. This Princess Lina was a huge fan of Starlight’s works, especially those starring Hua Qing.

So, at that event, the two struck up a conversation, exchanged contacts, and occasionally kept in touch.

It wasn’t until Sheng Quan saw that Princess Lina’s husband, Qiao, was planning to buy an island that she had an epiphany.

Of course!

The venue could be on an island!

So, Sheng Quan reached out to Princess Lina, asking for advice on purchasing an island.

The easygoing princess was more than happy to share everything she knew and even offered to help make connections if Sheng Quan decided to go through with it.

Then, one night after devouring half a watermelon, Sheng Quan took a shower, lit some incense, rubbed her hands together, and started her lottery draw.

Her initial targets had been a few mid-sized islands.

When the system displayed the largest private island currently on the market, Sheng Quan didn’t even dare to dream about it.

Its value was roughly equivalent to selling her, Starlight, and all its subsidiaries—three times over.

And then, Sheng Quan hit the jackpot on her first try.

For a moment, she thought she must be dreaming.

This was the power of a lottery draw after passing the halfway mark in her career—straight-up exhilarating!!!

A few seconds later, her room echoed with muffled screams of "Ahhhh!!!"—accompanied by the silent cheers of her unseen system, 006!!!

The nearby bodyguards nearly rushed in, but thankfully, Jiang Lu stopped them.

Having been by Sheng Quan’s side for so long, Jiang Lu could tell just from her screams what kind of mood she was in.

—Either she’d stumbled upon her favorite ship becoming canon, read an amazing scene in a novel, or heard some earth-shattering gossip.

In any case, it definitely wasn’t an emergency.

Later, Sheng Quan had to admit: Brother Jiang, you’re the best!

If the bodyguards had barged in and seen her rolling around on the bed like an idiot, hugging a pillow and grinning like a fool, she would’ve died of embarrassment.

Of course, in that moment, Sheng Quan wasn’t thinking about any of that.

When she realized the world’s largest private island now belonged to her, she knew this wasn’t just about putting Starlight on the global stage anymore.

This was about her stepping into the spotlight herself.

That night, after the initial screaming session with 006, the system started announcing her career progress.

[Host’s current career progress: 52%]

[Host’s current career progress: 53%]

[Host’s current…]

By the end of the night, her progress had climbed to 58%.

The high from this incident kept Sheng Quan in an elated mood for days. Even when her favorite ship ended in tragedy, it didn’t dampen her spirits. She calmly reached out to the production team, screenwriters, and director to ask if a sequel could be made.

Naturally, she’d finance it—her only request was that her beloved couple get a happy ending this time.

Upon ​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌‍hearing the sum Sheng Quan was willing to invest, the writers and directors instantly agreed, laughing, "Of course! Your ship was always meant to be sweet—we were already planning a sequel, hahahaha!"

The thought of her ship sailing smoothly in the next installment lifted Sheng Quan’s mood even higher.

She decided it was time to visit her island.

Oh, and could she plant a red flag on it? She’d never owned an island before, so she wasn’t sure about the rules. Better make a call and ask.

Meanwhile, in distant N, Qiao had just returned home when he saw his wife, Princess Lina, hanging up the phone with a dazed expression.

"What’s wrong, Lina? Who was that?"

Princess Lina: "It was my friend Sheng, from China. She called to ask me about island-related matters."

Qiao perked up at this—he’d recently purchased a mid-sized island, a point of pride for him since acquiring islands, especially large, stable ones, was notoriously difficult and exorbitantly expensive.

The price of islands? Now that was truly outrageous.

Ordinary millionaires typically wouldn’t have the means to afford something like this.

The fact that he bought this private island speaks volumes about his financial prowess.

To be honest, Qiao had always coveted the world’s largest private island, Kala Island. But one glance at its price tag told him it was utterly out of his reach in this lifetime.

Still, it comforted him that if he couldn’t afford it, neither could anyone else.

The thought alone kept Qiao in good spirits.

As for Sheng Quan, he vaguely recalled her as a young woman who seemed to get along quite well with Lina. He’d also looked into her professional background.

Though she was a rising star in the business world, compared to the long-established, generational wealth of other elite families, her achievements were merely decent—nothing extraordinary.

That’s why he felt at ease speaking casually about her.

"I remember she inquired before. So, what’s the update? Hasn’t she made up her mind yet? I’ve compiled some materials—let me dig them up. I can send those to your friend, or you could invite her to our island for a gathering. Maybe she’d get a better feel for island life."

"No, she’s already made the purchase. She was asking whether she could raise her country’s flag on the island after buying it."

"She even invited us to visit her island."

Qiao was taken aback. "She bought it already? That fast? Is it a small island? Small ones aren’t bad, but security can be shaky. If she’s inviting you, you might want to check out the surroundings first before committing."

Truthfully, he wasn’t keen on putting his work aside to visit some tiny island. But thinking of his partner, he added,

"If you really like her, I’ll go with you. But let’s not stay too long, alright? I’ve been swamped lately—don’t have much time for leisure."

"So, does her island have a name? Or hasn’t she named it yet?"

Princess Lina was still processing the shock. Ever since Sheng Quan mentioned the island’s name over the phone, she’d been utterly stunned.

A few seconds passed before she replied, "Sheng didn’t buy a small island."

Qiao gave an acknowledging hum. "A mid-sized one? She’s got some real resources, then."

Princess Lina: "She bought Kala Island."

Qiao: "..."

Qiao: "???"

"Kala Island?!!!!"

He shot to his feet in disbelief.

Then, after a few seconds, he slowly sank back into his seat.

In those brief moments, countless thoughts raced through Qiao’s mind. When he finally spoke again, his tone was noticeably less confident:

"Ahem... so, when did she say... we could visit?"

"I think my schedule just cleared up. I could spare quite a bit of time for a nice, long trip."