The man’s voice was steady and composed, cool and detached as he conversed with the person on the other end of the phone.
Chi Yu, held in his hand, could hear their conversation crystal clear. They were discussing business matters—it seemed a project the man wanted had been outbid by another company.
It wasn’t that Chi Yu was deliberately eavesdropping; she now resided inside the man’s phone and couldn’t block it out even if she wanted to.
The moment the man picked up his phone, the screen unlocked via facial recognition. In that instant, a massive flood of information came rushing toward Chi Yu like floodgates opening to release torrential waters.
When Chi Yu had first transmigrated here, she had been a solitary, feeble strand of data, trapped and immobile on the man’s lock screen.
Now it was different. After automatically merging with the other data in the man’s phone, she understood the various private information in his device even better than the man himself.
She even knew about the man’s secret stash of money… Wait? Ones, tens, hundreds, thousands, ten thousands, hundred thousands, millions, ten millions, hundred millions, billions, ten billions, hundred billions???
This man was actually this rich?!
Even in death, her fondness for money was hard to resist. Chi Yu almost couldn’t control herself, her eyes practically turning into gold coins.
Even though she knew it was just a string of virtual data, she couldn’t help but move forward and nuzzle against that glittering, golden presence.
Chi Yu happily gave the money an intimate little rub.
After the man picked up the phone, Chi Yu discovered that her vision had changed as well.
She was now the phone; its front and rear cameras were equivalent to her eyes.
Previously, she could only see the ceiling and the phone’s owner because the phone had been placed face-up on the desk, with the rear camera covered by the desk surface. She could only observe the outside world through the front-facing camera—the same principle as taking a photo.
Now that the man had picked up the phone, she could peek through the rear camera.
Although her vision couldn’t rotate and she could only see what was directly opposite, Chi Yu still gleaned a lot of information from it.
Her current location was indeed in an office, and within a high-rise building at that.
Through the bright floor-to-ceiling windows, she could clearly see other prosperous, towering commercial buildings outside.
The architectural styles of these commercial buildings were all exceptionally familiar to Chi Yu—they seemed no different from the world she had lived in before her death!
Chi Yu’s heart skipped a beat. She even ignored the man on the phone, her gaze fixed intently on those buildings. Her vision gradually sharpened, and then, on one of the buildings, she actually spotted an exceptionally familiar penguin logo.
It was actually Tencent!
What did this mean? She might still exist in this world!
In her shock, Chi Yu completely failed to notice that the Tencent building was several kilometers away from her current position. With normal human eyesight, one couldn’t see that far, yet she could see that penguin logo with perfect clarity.
After ending the call with his subordinate, Shen Yanzhi noticed his phone had somehow opened the camera app and had even zoomed in several times.
He didn’t pay it much mind, assuming he had accidentally triggered it while taking the call, and casually exited the camera.
Chi Yu’s vision suddenly went dark. Only then did she realize she had somehow opened the camera.
She wasn’t sure what form she currently took in his eyes.
Looking at the man now so close before her, Chi Yu felt somewhat nervous. She quietly hid behind a small app icon, afraid the man might discover her.
However, the man didn’t seem to notice anything unusual about his phone. After exiting the camera, he placed the phone back on the desk and lowered his head to handle official business again.
Chi Yu waited quietly for a while. When the phone screen automatically locked, that familiar sense of confinement returned once more.
Chi Yu now understood—she had been locked in the screensaver by the man again.
She tried discreetly and discovered she couldn’t unlock the screensaver password herself.
Confined in darkness again, perhaps because she now understood her situation, the earlier panic and unease in Chi Yu’s heart had faded.
The Tencent logo she had just seen gave Chi Yu tremendous hope.
She had just absorbed a lot of information in her head, including the current time, which was exactly the same as the year and month she had lived in before, though the days didn’t quite match up.
Only three days had passed since her drowning. She had gone to see the ocean with Chen Jiazhi on the 3rd, and now it was already the 6th.
Chi Yu wasn’t sure if this was a parallel world or if she had been reborn three days after drowning at sea.
Chi Yu hoped it was the latter.
She sprawled out inside the phone to rest, occasionally stealing a glance at the man through the front camera.
The man was pleasing to the eye—aloof and noble. With such outstanding looks, Chi Yu was quite certain she had never seen him before.
She didn’t know what had triggered her transmigration into his phone.
Moreover, he seemed completely unaware.
Chi Yu silently resolved in her heart that until she figured all this out, she must hide herself well and never let anyone know of her existence, including this phone’s owner.
Although she’d never heard of phone data dissection, what if?
Having died once, Chi Yu cherished her life even more.
The man seemed exceptionally busy.
During his office hours, several waves of people came and went from the office—all his subordinates coming to report on work or get him to sign documents.
“President Shen, this is the project plan for the South City development area…”
“President Shen, this document requires your signature for confirmation…”
Chi Yu rolled over in the screensaver.
So he really was a CEO, no wonder he was so rich.
Shen Yanzhi’s work continued busily until noon.
His phone vibrated several times with WeChat messages from someone, but Shen Yanzhi didn’t open his phone to look.
The WeChat message content was set to not display, so Chi Yu could only see the notifications but couldn’t know the content.
Finally, the man finished processing the last document and capped his pen.
Seeing this action, Chi Yu immediately perked up.
Unexpectedly, the man merely lifted his gaze calmly, picked up the landline handset beside him, and called his subordinate internally: “Assistant Chen, come to the office. Bring the Huai City project bidding proposal.”
Chi Yu: …
Half a minute later, Assistant Chen walked in. “President Shen.”
He placed a document in front of Shen Yanzhi.
Shen Yanzhi lowered his head to review the document. After seeing the amount listed, he closed it and spoke calmly: “Qin Nan just called. When bidding for the Huai City project, they only outbid us by ten thousand yuan.”
The Huai City project was one Shen Yanzhi had received advance notice about and had been preparing for all along.
The east district of Huai City had been designated by the government as a development zone. Because it hadn’t been officially announced yet, very few people knew this news.
After learning that a plot of land there would be up for bidding, Shen Yanzhi’s team researched for half a month, revised multiple times, and finally produced a bidding proposal that satisfied Shen Yanzhi. Led by Qin Nan, they went to Huai City to participate in the bidding.
Shen Yanzhi had identified the competing bidders early on and was confident about this project.
Then Qin Nan called to tell him the bidding had failed.
Qin Nan’s exact words were: “People from Su Sheng Group actually showed up too, and it was Second Young Master Su himself—who never involves himself in business—who came personally. Their bid was only ten thousand higher than ours.”
Qin Nan was practically spitting blood.
This was a blind bid with only one chance.
Whoever’s price was highest would win the development rights for this land.
A land bidding worth hundreds of millions, and they lost by a mere ten thousand yuan?
In all his years of work, Qin Nan wasn’t unfamiliar with losing, but never once had he lost in such an infuriating way.
For a project worth hundreds of millions, a difference of several million might still be normal.
In previous bidding wars, win or lose, the normal difference was basically within this range.
Ten thousand yuan?
It was highly likely there was a mole inside the company who had leaked the bidding information.
This was also why Shen Yanzhi had called Assistant Chen in.
Shen Yanzhi said: “I’m entrusting this matter to you to investigate.”
Just as Assistant Chen was leaving, the phone Shen Yanzhi had placed on the desk rang.