Upon seeing Director Wang investing in factories, establishing cooperative healthcare, and donating to education across various African nations, netizens' reactions polarized sharply.

One side vehemently opposed Wang Zhuo's "squandering" behavior, arguing that there were still countless impoverished people domestically, numerous cases requiring open-heart surgery or liver donation to save mothers, and many poor students who couldn't even access lunch programs needing aid. To be so wealthy and yet choose to show off in Africa, seeking acclaim, was absolute excess; behavior that invited scorn, criticism, and fiery backlash.

The other side supported Wang Zhuo, believing that the government's strategic maneuvers in Africa clearly indicated they were "playing a very long game." Otherwise, why would they annually forgive so much debt and loan money to their African brothers? While ordinary folks might not grasp the specific reasons behind these actions, the steady rise of China's international standing was an undeniable fact, intrinsically linked to the strategic efforts of the top leadership in their complex maneuvering. Therefore, rashly criticizing the decisions made above was incorrect; they should uphold these measures, confident that such actions were ultimately for the good of the nation.

This perspective gained widespread acceptance. While Wang Zhuo's supporters were fewer than those backing Chun Ge, they were generally more rational. Even the more nationalistic among them felt that Wang Zhuo's success was due to extraordinary fortune, meaning that even if the authorities were foolish, Director Wang wouldn't commit real blunders.

In summary, there were all sorts of stances. Some people openly declared online, "Whether Director Wang donates money to the darkies has nothing to do with me. I never used his ridiculously overpriced enhancement drugs anyway. If he wants to earn American money to treat Africans, that's his freedom; it's nobody's business!"

However, a select few perceived the truth: Wang Zhuo was genuinely preparing to "play a very long game" on the fertile ground of Africa... When had the Little Tyrant of Jiangzhou ever taken on thankless tasks? For him to stir up such a fuss in Africa while seemingly earning little profit indicated a much grander objective!

"I think he’s just chasing fame now. He has so much money, only this pursuit remains."

A certain classmate's words carried a faint tinge of envy, stemming from the vast gap between their lives. Director Wang was the world's richest man, treating charity like a game, while he himself agonized over the cafeteria cook accidentally shaking the spoon too hard, causing two nutrient-rich chicken pieces to fall off the plate.

"I don't like hearing you say that," another classmate immediately retorted, "If he were after mere fame, why wouldn't he go to white countries? Surely, he'd have plenty of beautiful foreign women lining up to throw themselves at him there, which would be far more rewarding than dealing with those darkies?"

"What's wrong with the darkies? Aren't there beautiful women among them?" Brother Chicken Pieces scoffed, "How do you know he hasn't just grown tired of white chicks and is currently interested in black ones?"

While the two were bickering in their own way, the intercom in the study room suddenly crackled to life, summoning all students currently studying to the large lecture hall on that floor.

"What the heck is going on?" Brother Chicken Pieces muttered in surprise. "What kind of meeting is this, so sudden and vague? They didn't even say which department!"

The one arguing with him shrugged. "Who cares? Let's go see. Hurry up, or we won't get a seat."

Half an hour later, the large lecture hall was packed. A school leader entered, accompanied by several lecturers, carrying thick stacks of materials but not distributing them.

"That must be Principal Ma. He spoke during the opening ceremony, I think."

"Why is Old Ma showing up in person?"

"Heavens, I hope he doesn't drone on too long; I still need to prep for finals!"

A flurry of whispers erupted beneath the stage. Vice Principal Ma raised his hand, signaled for quiet, and then chuckled heartily. "Quite a good turnout! Everyone quiet down for a moment, I have something to announce."

Old Ma's speech this time was concise, centered on one main point: Shengshi Dynasty was recruiting "people of ambition" from all colleges specializing in medical and health fields to take a temporary leave of absence and travel to underdeveloped countries or regions to participate in support activities. The activity was unpaid, but the participants would be compensated: a minimum annual salary of 300,000, with automatic transfer to the Dynasty Group upon contract completion, and completion of the remainder of their studies would also be paid.

Holy crap! A huge commotion immediately swept through the audience. Three hundred thousand annual salary! Remaining studies completed with pay! Employment at the Dynasty Group after graduation! These three pieces of good news instantly stunned everyone, and the classroom erupted into an uproar.

Those with sharp minds were already calculating how to use connections to secure placement in relatively better cities within China. As for Brother Chicken Pieces, who had been arguing about Wang Zhuo just moments before, he was only in his sophomore year, and his tuition had been paid for by selling the family home. If he could secure such a job, his first year's salary alone would be enough for his parents to buy a decent mid-range apartment back home!

"Principal Ma, exactly where would we be working?" someone below the stage shouted, raising their hand.

"Yes, yes! I specialize in mental hygiene—do you need people in this field?!"

"If the minimum annual salary is 300,000, what's the maximum?"

Old Ma chuckled, pressing his palms down, and announced loudly, "Quiet down! One at a time!"

The facts soon proved that there was no such thing as a free lunch, although for most students, this was indeed quite a generous offering. But to partake, they needed to first consider whether they could handle the heat.

The 300,000 tier involved going to countries like Tanzania and Ethiopia in Africa to work in community medicine—giving shots, handing out cold medicine—in relatively backward environments.

The 500,000 tier was for providing medical care to AIDS patients.

The 800,000 tier involved not only treating AIDS patients but also working in areas of armed conflict...

Instantly, about eighty percent of the students backed away. But the remaining twenty percent was more than enough. Among them, the majority valued not the three-year contract itself, but the shining prospect of working for the Dynasty Group after the contract expired!

"Three years, 2.4 million—my goodness," Brother Chicken Pieces' eyes glittered with currency symbols, nearly drooling.

"Classmate, be careful you don't earn it only to die before you can spend it," his companion pointed to the pamphlet just handed out and sneered. "I already see that three million in accident compensation waving at your parents."

"Damn it," Brother Chicken Pieces rolled his eyes and grumbled, "I have rural residency. If I get hit by a car while crossing the street and it's ruled entirely my fault, the compensation is only a little over 200,000. This three million is enough to kill me ten times over—I think it’s worth it!"

"If you think it's worth it, then it is," the other replied with a dry laugh. "I have local urban residency; accidental death compensation is over 800,000. I can't compare to you. If I were to apply, I’d apply for the 300,000 tier." Just as Wang Zhuo had predicted, almost all applicants for the 800,000 positions were university students from remote rural areas; he felt this might be another manifestation of fighting with nothing left to lose.

This was why children from poor backgrounds were more likely to achieve success—because their starting point was low, they wouldn't forgo any opportunity for advancement, and they fought with all their might!

Nationwide, over 10,000 people applied in medical specialties, and nursing saw as many as 30,000 applicants. However, only a quarter of these would be hired, and the number who would actually sign agreements with the Dynasty Group and travel to Africa would be further reduced.

No one anticipated that this simple initiative launched by Wang Zhuo would turn into the first large-scale migration from China to Africa in history. From this day forward, waves of Chinese young men and women, departing under the guise of charitable outreach, took root, bloomed, and bore fruit on the African continent, becoming a long-lasting subject of research for future historians. Tens of thousands were employed annually by the Dynasty Group, crossing oceans to this fertile African land. In many regions, these individuals gradually accumulated, forming Chinese communities. They were emissaries of health and peace, fundamentally different from the white gold-seekers who brought subjugation and war, thus earning deep support and adoration from the local populace.

The bells of Christmas rang out melodiously in St. Peter's Basilica in Rome, the capital of Italy. This day was once dedicated to the sun god until Christianity became the state religion of Italy and the practice was prohibited.

On this day of worldwide celebration, Wang Zhuo shared a warm lunch with the Holy Father at noon. Although he himself was not religious, he still afforded the old man great respect by accepting his blessing.

Receiving such an honor would surely make countless Catholics envious of Wang Zhuo, but for him, it was far less significant than the arrival of Irene, who descended like the evening mist.

The international superstar appearing on the Auspicious Cloud attracted countless gazes, though everyone was aware of her relationship with Wang Zhuo, so there was little surprise.

The Auspicious Cloud was permanent; the beauties around him were transient.

The Anqi sisters had returned home half a month prior, and Qu Jingyou had gone back to the U.S. to handle affairs. Yang Ru, responsible for the Western European market, remained, while Fu Xinran and Xu Chu had recently become regular passengers on the aircraft.

But since it was Christmas, they had all gone to St. Peter's Basilica to listen to the choir, partly not wanting to miss this rare opportunity, and partly to leave private space for Wang Zhuo and Irene.

As one of the mistresses of the Auspicious Cloud, Irene Top was stepping onto the world-famous aircraft for the first time. Fortunately, having recently starred in a science fiction film, she adapted easily to the technologically advanced facilities onboard.

After several months apart, the girl had grown a bit taller. Because Wang Zhuo had helped her transition from girl to woman, her figure, nourished by rain and dew, had developed further towards the voluptuous and alluring. Dressed in a sexy evening gown and wearing full makeup, she hardly resembled an underage girl; she looked more like a mature woman.

Her golden hair cascaded in soft waves, layered distinctly and light. Her deep azure eyes resembled a vast ocean, radiating affectionate tenderness with every glance. Nestled in her lover's embrace, she had endless parting sentiments to share; his lingering, passionate kisses made her spirit swoon.

As they whispered intimately, Wang Zhuo's phone vibrated. He casually picked it up, his brow gradually knitting into a tight knot.