Start by Spending One Billion [Entertainment Industry]-Chapter 73

Ever since the night she won a snail noodle factory in a lucky draw while craving a late-night snack, Sheng Quan’s approach to managing it has been straightforward: tweak the recipe and source better ingredients.

After all, a factory reduced to selling itself wasn’t exactly thriving. A quick investigation revealed that the factory had once been successful but faltered due to poor management and stiff competition.

Sheng Quan didn’t expect it to make her a fortune—after all, it was just a prize from a random draw. Though winning a snail noodle factory while craving the dish was absurdly coincidental, the thought of eating noodles produced by her own factory did bring her some satisfaction.

Food safety was non-negotiable, and the flavor could be adjusted to her liking. She didn’t know how hygienic the factory had been before, but under her ownership, cleanliness became the top priority.

If she were buying from someone else, she might overlook it, but since it was her own factory, why not make it both clean and delicious?

After months of adjustments, the factory now produced noodles that perfectly matched Sheng Quan’s taste, and its hygiene standards were among the best in the industry (unsurprising, since the boss ate them too).

Sheng Quan was quite pleased. She even toyed with the idea of investing in instant noodles, hot dry noodles, spicy sour noodles, beef offal noodles, and more if she ever got richer.

Don’t ask why someone with her wealth still loved such simple fare—personal taste was personal taste. Just like how she couldn’t resist junk food despite knowing its downsides.

However, after rebranding as "Xiangxiang Snail," the factory remained obscure due to its hiatus and lack of advertising.

Sheng Quan’s original plan was straightforward: maintain quality, slowly build a loyal customer base, and grow the brand over time.

—And, of course, keep producing flavors she loved.

But just as the factory took its first tentative step forward, the internet decided to strap a rocket to its back and launch it into the stratosphere.

After a phone call, Sheng Quan, who had mostly retired from social media, opened Weibo and found her name trending at number three.

Sheng Quan, who was no stranger to buying promotions: "…"

This time, she hadn’t paid for it.

Grabbing a small stool, she sat down and scrolled through the details.

Fifteen minutes later, she pieced together the story. It started when drone enthusiasts, hired for a project, discovered that Starlight Entertainment hadn’t publicized their "500 drones" contribution. They took screenshots and shared them online, sparking organic promotion.

Then, reporters covering the flood relief efforts interviewed frontline leaders, who openly praised Sheng Quan by name, commending her actions on camera.

Finally, a single photo captured it all—the ruthlessness of the flood, the perilous conditions rescuers faced, and the undeniable impact of those 500 drones.

The public’s pent-up enthusiasm ignited instantly.

Like Sheng Quan in her past life, most people wanted to help during disasters but were tied down by school or work. At most, they could donate and leave a "Stay safe" comment online.

So when someone like Sheng Quan appeared—rushing to the frontlines, donating supplies, mobilizing every transport resource at her disposal—

Asking for nothing in return.

Seeking no fame.

She was the first entrepreneur on-site and the largest donor, yet she remained in the shadows.

How could netizens, limited to sending virtual blessings, not admire her?

If they couldn’t go to the disaster zone, couldn’t they at least support the ethical businesses trying to help?

[Not just Sheng Quan—I checked the list. All Starlight Entertainment’s artists donated, and like their boss, none of them publicized it. Whatever their reasons, I’ve liked and followed every one of them.]

[And don’t forget those tall, sleekly dressed guys and gals in the photo! They’re from Starlight Security—trainers and trainees alike—here to help too!]

[Also, I spotted directors Xu Man and Wan Bao! Are those crew members behind them? Rumor has it the actors wanted to come but were held back. Starlight’s whole team is pitching in!]

[Jiang Zhen’s donation amount… Did he just give away half a year’s salary?]

[Hua Qing, Ming Qi, and Lin Aike too. Starlight’s artists are all gems.]

Final verdict: Quietly saving lives without recognition? Not on our watch!

As for why "Xiangxiang Snail" became the focus…

Not everyone follows celebrities, and Starlight Entertainment was Sheng Quan’s most prominent venture.

Just as people wondered where to direct their support, someone discovered "Xiangxiang Snail."

A pack of snail noodles wasn’t expensive, and "Xiangxiang Snail" was already budget-friendly—plus, buyers could enjoy the noodles themselves.

So, one pack here, one pack there, some even bought by the crate. When one flavor sold out, fans pestered customer service to restock.

Visit frёewebnoѵel.ƈo๓ for the b𝘦st novel reading experience.

Sheng Quan scrolled through the entire saga of "Xiangxiang Snail" being bought out.

[They even have tomato flavor? Sold!]

[You guys are too fast! Tomato’s already gone by the time I got here.]

[Extra spicy and stinky is back in stock! Just grabbed ten bags, hahaha!]

[LOL, I saw the restock notification, but it’s already sold out again.]

[The jumbo pack’s still available! Let me at it!!]

[Got off work and rushed over—already sold out. The store’s announcement is hilarious now.]

[HAHAHA I saw it too! After being bombarded with "Do you have any left?" the customer service changed the notice to: "Seriously, we’re out! Not a single pack left!" Priceless.]

Sheng Quan couldn’t help but grin, almost typing out a reply: "Hahaha too bad I missed it, would’ve loved to help clear the shelves!"

Then it hit her.

Oh, right. She wasn’t just a meme-loving netizen anymore.

She was the one whose shelves had been cleared.

The current manager of Xiangxiang Snail, promoted from the factory’s original staff, was a man in his late forties—steady, principled, and meticulous.

That was exactly why Sheng Quan chose him. A food factory didn’t need a slick operator, just someone who followed the rules.

Her original plan was to separate the sales division from the factory once Xiangxiang Snail gained traction.

But for now, it was still flying under the radar.

Then, the honest and diligent general manager, who always followed instructions and worked steadfastly, found himself both bewildered and delighted by the situation. He had no choice but to turn to the headquarters for guidance.

He said in confusion, "I told them we really had no stock left and advised them to consume rationally, but they seemed even more eager to buy. They kept urging us to ramp up production."

Sheng Quan: "..."

Not surprising at all.

This was just how netizens behaved. In such cases, the more a manufacturer emphasized the lack of stock and urged people not to impulse-buy, the more determined they became to purchase.

This straightforward general manager certainly hadn’t intended to promote the product deliberately, but things had a way of working out unexpectedly—sometimes, the most unplanned efforts bore the sweetest fruit. His response had only fueled the enthusiasm of the online crowd.

Though they weren’t actively pushing for publicity, who would turn down easy money?

After half a minute of consideration, Sheng Quan said, "Increase production to match the sales demand, but make sure employees get proper rest. Overtime pay should follow regulations. Since everyone will be working hard this month, double the performance bonuses at the end of the month."

"Got it!"

Sheng Quan added, "Also, display a notice in the store: to give back to the public, Xiangxianglu will donate 20 cents for every pack of snail noodles sold, to support flood relief efforts, until the disaster is over."

"Twenty cents?" The general manager’s tone turned cautious. "Chairwoman, I have no objections to donations, but isn’t 20 cents too much?"

Xiangxianglu Luosi Rice Noodles was already priced affordably, and production costs had risen significantly due to higher-quality ingredients and equipment. Now that they finally had a surge in sales and a glimpse of profitability, donating 20 cents per pack would mean losing a substantial chunk of revenue.

"It will indeed cut into profits, but we won’t operate at a loss. Don’t think of 20 cents as too much—compared to the reputation we’ll build during this time, it’s a small price."

In fact, the goodwill might even reflect positively on Starlight Entertainment or their other ventures.

After finishing the call with Xiangxianglu’s general manager, Sheng Quan dialed Starlight Entertainment and instructed their HR department to start recruiting management personnel for sales operations.

She had high hopes for Xiangxianglu's future. Mainly because she had tasted the product herself—and based on Sheng Quan's extensive experience with luosi fen (snail noodles) across two lifetimes, she knew it was only a matter of time before her luosi fen factory took off.

Now, thanks to this unexpected event, even time was no longer a factor.

The phrase she had applied to the general manager could be reused here: Sometimes, the most unplanned efforts bore the sweetest fruit.

She had orchestrated countless promotions before, and the most successful ones had only gone viral online.

But this time, without lifting a finger—no paid trending searches, no marketing push, just quietly working in Lücheng—the buzz had skyrocketed faster than ever.

Take the Starlight Manor event, for example. It had been covered extensively, creating the illusion of widespread popularity, but in reality, most of the hype was limited to young netizens and stayed confined to the internet.

This time, however, was different. The Chinese people had a unique trait: while they might not pay much attention to news from other provinces under normal circumstances, when a province faced a natural disaster like floods, the entire nation’s focus would converge there.

Regardless of age, gender, or profession, those with means donated money or supplies, while others followed the updates closely.

Events during such times often gained unprecedented attention almost instantly.

And this incident was practically stacked with viral elements.

Helicopter and drone rescues captured the attention of younger audiences.

Thirty truckloads of relief supplies and a young entrepreneur leading her entire crew to assist in disaster relief drew the interest of middle-aged and older demographics.

Drone enthusiasts were urgently recruited to operate 500 drones in Lücheng, with an entire university drone club "deploying" to the scene—this resonated with college students and drone hobbyists.

The ​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌‍Starlight Security personnel accompanying Sheng Quan were all ex-military, earning public goodwill and leaving an impression on military circles previously unfamiliar with the company.

Her actions during the disaster had also won the government’s appreciation and support. While there hadn’t been any official recognition yet—flood relief was still ongoing—she was likely to receive some form of commendation once things settled.

At the very least, judging by the interviews with frontline disaster relief officials, Sheng Quan could tell they were deliberately mentioning her name.

She couldn’t help but feel a sense of emotion. Now, she finally had a moment to reflect. Though the floods were still ongoing, the most chaotic and overwhelming phase had passed.

Relief supplies from across the country had either arrived or were on their way. Having survived the initial crisis, the dire shortage of resources had finally eased.

Sheng Quan sat on her small stool, resting her head on a piece of wood for a quick nap.

"People really do get spoiled by comfort," she mused. "After just two days of nonstop work—with even a four-hour nap in between—I’m already exhausted. Back when I was a corporate drone, I could pull month-long high-intensity shifts fueled by nothing but coffee."

Still, she didn’t mind the fatigue. Some tasks could be delegated, but this was something she preferred handling personally, even if it meant pushing herself.

There was no time to trek back to a tent for proper sleep, so Chairwoman Sheng made do with the wooden plank.

Jiang Lu took off his jacket and draped it over the wood. Sheng Quan thanked him with a smile before promptly dozing off.

He didn’t rest himself. Instead, he positioned himself to block the light and wind for her.

Rescue workers passing by made a conscious effort to move quietly. Unlike the fragmented glimpses online, these people had witnessed firsthand how tirelessly Sheng Quan had worked to support disaster relief efforts.

If nothing else, the large pots of hot soup and mobile shower trucks—set up before other supplies could arrive—had made a tangible difference in their lives.

Had they had the time to go online, these disaster relief personnel would have shared their genuine impressions, ensuring that more people knew:

Sheng Quan deserved every bit of praise.

Whether it was sheer exhaustion or the hushed movements around her, Sheng Quan slept soundly for a full half-hour.

When she woke up, she was refreshed.

Stretching, she checked the time. "Let’s go see if that batch of medical equipment has arrived yet."

This batch of medical equipment wasn’t purchased by her. After splurging extensively from her personal savings, she currently couldn’t afford such expensive medical devices.

But then, the prize pool opened.

Sheng Quan happily drew many high-value medical-related items, including even a large mobile medical treatment vehicle.

This vehicle was likely the most expensive prize in the pool. Though it appeared to be just a truck, its interior was equipped with a perfectly functional medical environment for field conditions—in other words, it came loaded with numerous expensive medical devices.

It had to be said, ever since the system lifted various restrictions, the satisfaction factor had truly doubled.

Sheng Quan planned to incorporate this incredibly expensive medical vehicle into filming after the disaster relief efforts concluded, letting the audience experience the same awe she felt when she first saw it.

When she went to collect it, the medical staff were indeed stunned.

"This equipment must’ve cost a fortune—is this newly purchased?"

"Is this a mobile treatment unit? Let me take a look… Oh my… Director, come quick!"

They already knew Sheng Quan had contributed a significant amount of medicine, continuously purchasing and transporting more to the site. But they never expected her to also acquire such advanced medical equipment.

The way everyone looked at Sheng Quan was filled with admiration.

Just how much money had this cost?!

Sheng Quan: Bet you didn’t see that coming—honestly, neither did I.

She had assumed the prize pool might offer medicine or other relief supplies. The interval between draws hadn’t been long, so logically, she shouldn’t have been able to win so many expensive devices.

All credit went to 006.

Once the disaster relief efforts ended, these medical vehicles and equipment could be placed in the "medical room" in her villa.

Yes, her villa had a medical room—it just hadn’t been stocked with medical equipment yet, as she planned to buy them later when her finances were a bit more… flexible.

Now, problem solved.

Not only did it serve a purpose during the disaster, but it also saved her the trouble of buying them herself later.

A well-rested Chairwoman Sheng was in excellent spirits.

As she predicted, once the time lag caused by the flood passed, resources gradually arrived, and the disaster relief efforts entered a well-organized phase. Most trapped individuals had already been rescued, and the drone squadron was successfully disbanded.

At the farewell, the drone enthusiasts were practically reluctant to part ways.

Perhaps before this, flying drones had just been a hobby for them—one that sometimes drew skepticism from those around them.

But from now on, they could confidently say, "I’ve used drones to save lives too."

By the time disaster relief was mostly wrapped up, the film crew’s large props—which had only been active in the military rest area—began their exit.

When they first arrived at night, during the busiest hours, almost every corner was occupied with moving relief supplies or large vehicles coming in, so they naturally went unnoticed by the public.

Afterward, they remained hidden in the rear, working diligently. Under those circumstances, even if someone spotted them, no one had the time to film or post about it online.

But now, with the disaster relief nearly over, everyone had time to spare.

A clearly recorded video surfaced online, revealing their presence in the logistics area.

When those sleek, towering, futuristic-designed mechanical vehicles and robotic dogs traversing the sandy terrain appeared before everyone, people were utterly baffled.

Their sci-fi, cutting-edge aesthetics immediately sparked wild imaginations.

The first reaction was: "Is this real or fake??"

If fake, they looked way too real.

If real…

Weren’t we just in a heartwarming disaster relief segment? How did this suddenly turn into sci-fi?

A staff member eventually clarified: "Don’t misunderstand—these are props provided by the Interstellar War film crew, used to assist in rescue operations."

Netizens: "???"

They stared at the mechanical arms, then the robotic dogs, and finally the rescue robots.

And you’re telling us… these things are props??