There’s a saying about appropriating someone else’s labor—like when a village elder revokes the contract of someone who spent thirty years cultivating barren hills into fruitful orchards, only to immediately reassign the forest to his own brother-in-law.

Or take the case of someone stepping in during a crisis to pull a near-bankrupt enterprise back from the brink, only to be unseated by another who then steals all the credit and renown.

When Wang Zhuo and his group discovered the copper mine, this was their foremost concern: what if they toiled through daydreams, only to have the imminent prize snatched away by someone else? Wouldn't that be infuriating enough to kill them?

Such things happen far too easily. But Wang Zhuo knew that developing this copper mine through legitimate channels was an absolute impossibility. The necessary lobbying work with relevant departments alone could exhaust a person to death, and once the mine went public, if some political heavy-hitter showed their true greedy colors, they could easily condemn everyone involved in the paperwork as corrupt, slap them with a charge of illegal operation, and in one swift move, not only seize the mine but also imprison the responsible parties.

Therefore, to succeed, they needed to latch onto a sufficiently powerful patron; otherwise, they wouldn't even get a sip of the broth, let alone a piece of the meat. And right there, Wang Zhuo had two ready-made deities: Qin Jingzhong and his son, Qin Xue. Naturally, he wouldn't ignore the existing connections just to seek out a new benefactor elsewhere.

Truthfully, Wang Zhuo was inclined to approach Qin Jingzhong first, as the elder possessed a pure heart and had long seen through the petty affairs of the world. However, since Qin Xue had proactively inquired, Wang Zhuo saw no harm in speaking to him first.

After listening to Wang Zhuo’s brief description of the copper mine, Qin Xue remained silent for a long time.

He was calculating how to leverage this situation to maximize his gains.

These gains encompassed both Qin Xue’s political interests and Wang Zhuo’s economic ones. Qin Xue was still in his prime, his mind entirely focused on the political arena, with no immediate plans for his family’s economic growth. In his view, Wang Zhuo’s alignment with him meant that the economic prosperity of Shengshi Dynasty was intrinsically linked to his own political success—the two were mutually reinforcing. Furthermore, Wang Zhuo was young and moldable; the enterprise was new, flowing with fresh blood. Should this company blossom into a major conglomerate, it would provide him with a significant political bargaining chip—a powerful new card, far more valuable than dealing with the variables of his existing assets.

Compared to partners mired in internal factions, family infighting, and the constant threat of defection, backing the rise of the newcomer, Shengshi Dynasty, was the most cost-effective move. Moreover, since Wang Zhuo provided the mine in the first place, the opportunity wouldn't naturally fall to anyone else; the only task was figuring out how to help Wang Zhuo see the project through successfully.

Qin Xue’s extensive calculations were beyond Wang Zhuo’s current level of consideration.

His own thinking was much simpler: to reach Qin Xue’s political position, sheer ability wasn't enough; one absolutely needed influence above. Thus, Shengshi Dynasty’s backing now extended beyond Qin Jingzhong and Qin Xue; it now included some great figures Wang Zhuo hadn't even heard of.

The copper mine was in the Southwest, true, but the truly great figures commanded the power of the entire nation. What was the Southwest to them? A single word from a major player, and cooperation would follow; the matter would be settled.

If the big players wanted a cut, that was fine—protection money was a universal fee, and Wang Zhuo understood the rules. But if they intended to swallow it whole, then the Qin father and son would have to handle it. In contests operating at that echelon, Wang Zhuo knew that daring to refuse would lead to his immediate disappearance from the face of the earth.

After a significant pause, Qin Xue slowly inquired, “You plan to first gain controlling shares in T-Zhongzheng, then secure exploration permits across the three southwestern provinces, and subsequently claim the mining rights based on priority?”

“Something like that,” Wang Zhuo nodded.

“The logic is sound, and it’s not impossible to execute…” Qin Xue said, smiling faintly as he shook his head repeatedly.

Wang Zhuo preempted him: “The border of three provinces, inviting disputes, right? With such a large cake, which province wouldn't want a piece?”

“It seems you’ve thought this through. How do you plan to manage it?” Qin Xue asked.

Wang Zhuo chuckled slyly, “I plan to toss this thorny problem to you.”

Xiao Wanjun let out a suppressed snort beside them, and Qin Xue couldn't help but smile as well, feeling the distance between them shrink considerably because of that single statement.

After a moment of thought, Qin Xue realized that aside from passing it to him, Wang Zhuo truly had no other effective solution. Approaching all three provincial governments simultaneously was unrealistic; it would waste time and deplete resources. Could a provincial leader like himself not understand contemporary bureaucratic maneuvering? Qin Xue was certain the lobbying fees alone would exceed a hundred million yuan, and if a particularly greedy official were involved, the sums could easily warrant death sentences for two provincial governors.

Only one-tenth of the iceberg is visible above the water line. The cases reported annually are numerous, yet they barely scratch the surface; everything submerged is generally glossed over and settled quietly.

Leaving this complex issue to trouble Qin Xue, Wang Zhuo left the study, intending to head home.

Seeing him emerge, Gan Lin hastily handed him the mid-game chess setup and rushed off to the restroom.

Inside the study, Qin Xue and Xiao Wanjun were conversing quietly, looking over a map of the national divisions and the small case for the contact lenses. Wang Zhuo’s sight penetrated the walls, allowing him to decipher their lip movements.

More accurately, it was a comprehensive analysis of the mouth and vocal cords. Aided by his clairvoyance, Wang Zhuo could read others’ conversations with one hundred percent accuracy, whereas lip-reading sometimes required context to fully decipher a sentence, often leading to errors or omissions.

This was a superior form of lip-reading, one that Wang Zhuo alone mastered in the entire world.

Fortunately, Gan Lin had left Wang Zhuo in a commanding position. Qin Siqing was so focused on the board that she didn't notice Wang Zhuo’s distracted state, allowing him to absorb every word of their conversation.

Wang Zhuo’s inattention quickly led him to make two terrible moves; the situation rapidly deteriorated, and under Qin Siqing’s relentless pressure, Wang Zhuo had no choice but to resign.

“Rookie moves,” Qin Siqing commented with a grin.

By then, Qin Xue and Xiao Wanjun had stopped talking and were both occupied with their respective computers, researching data. Wang Zhuo withdrew his focus, smiled, and said, “I was letting you have that round earlier. Dare for another game?”

“Bring it on,” Qin Siqing huffed, rapidly setting up the pieces.

Gan Lin had returned by then and stood by, watching them play.

When Wang Zhuo was in high school, he played street chess well enough that he rarely lost money. Qin Siqing’s skill level still lagged behind his considerably. He soon managed to capture her rook and knight, and the game immediately became one-sided.

Only then did Qin Siqing recognize the gulf in ability. She conceded gracefully but stubbornly refused to admit defeat, clearly planning to practice hard before challenging him again.

“It’s getting late, we should be going,” Wang Zhuo announced, standing up with an irritatingly smug smile.

Qin Siqing let out a soft huff. “See if you’re still so smug next time.”

After bidding farewell to Qin Xue and Xiao Wanjun in the study, Wang Zhuo and Gan Lin stepped outside. Qin Siqing escorted them to the gate of the compound. Once they had walked a few meters away, she called out, “Brother Wang Zhuo, I have something to tell you.”

The two turned back. Wang Zhuo walked back to Qin Siqing’s side and, seeing her beckoning repeatedly, bent down to let her whisper in his ear.

“I actually know what ‘dunking and blowing up’ means, haha!”

Qin Siqing giggled and ran off, waving playfully at Gan Lin. Wang Zhuo was left standing there, unsure whether to laugh or cry. So, the girl had been deliberately pulling everyone’s leg during dinner, even managing to prank the stern Qin Xue!

Looking at the silly face she made while waving at Gan Lin, Wang Zhuo instantly understood her implication: she was hinting that they had also engaged in that activity.

Girls these days are incredibly bold, he thought wryly, walking back toward the car. He mentally calculated Qin Siqing’s age; she wasn’t even from the post-2000s generation, so why was she so fearlessly forward? What were the poor ‘90s kids supposed to do?

Midway to the car, Gan Lin recalled Qin Siqing’s “slip of the tongue” at the dinner table and couldn't help but laugh. “Xiao Yue is hilarious. Saying something like that in front of her father—she’s so innocent.”

If she’s innocent, then I’m an imbecile, Wang Zhuo grumbled internally.

“It’s all your fault. You’re always teaching me vulgar things, which is why I was so embarrassed today,” Gan Lin continued, sounding slightly aggrieved. “Secretary Xiao definitely understood what I meant. Don’t you think I was mortified?”

“He didn’t seem to connect it to that,” Wang Zhuo said aloud, though his mind insisted that everyone understood; she just hadn’t noticed.

As they chatted, their car happened to pass an open-air basketball court beside a quiet, tree-lined lane where several dark cars were parked.

A few groups were playing on the court, with only a handful of spectators. An idea sparked in Wang Zhuo’s mind; he slowed the steering wheel and drifted gently toward the tree-lined lane.

“What are you doing?” Gan Lin asked, momentarily startled, before immediately shaking her head with a laugh. “Bad Wang Zhuo, I need to get home, I don't have time for you to play that thing with me.”

“Uh—” Wang Zhuo nearly crashed the car into a roadside tree, managing a wry smile. “I just wanted to see if I could dunk, I wasn't planning anything else.”

Seeing his innocent expression, Gan Lin burst out laughing. She had thought the rogue intended to hide in that deserted spot for some ‘dunking and blowing up’ session; it was all a misunderstanding.

They got out of the car and walked hand-in-hand toward the court. A slightly rocking Honda Accord by the roadside remained motionless, a detail Gan Lin noticed, causing her to lean into Wang Zhuo with a playful smirk.

It’s been a long time since we played outside… Wang Zhuo felt a surge of excitement and teased quietly, “Sweetheart, if I make the dunk, how will you reward me?”

“How about another day? Mom will worry if I’m back too late,” Gan Lin’s tone lacked real firmness.

“Don’t worry, it won’t take long,” Wang Zhuo chuckled wickedly. “We can reward each other while driving—two things at once.”

…

In the NBA, a “slam dunk explosion” means shattering the backboard with a violent dunk. Wang Zhuo succeeded in his dunk, but there was no shattered backboard.

His request for an in-car reward was skillfully deflected by Gan Lin using both soft persuasion and firm resistance. It had to be admitted that the request was excessive; even Wang Zhuo felt it bordered on perverse. In truth, he had only used that extreme demand to achieve a much less extreme goal.

And so, in the small grove outside the court, Coach Wang, who failed to demolish the backboard, finally achieved his other desire.