Mornings in the Old District always smelled like dust and ghosts. The kind of place that forgot what progress looked like. Lin Feng stepped out of a low-profile sedan—not the usual sleek luxury type that screamed for attention—and pulled in the cold air with a calm breath.
The message from Xu Shanyue hadn't been a taunt. It was a door creaking open.
A whispered challenge: "Let's see if your influence has roots… or if it's just noise."
The streets were cracked. Boards covered windows like eyelids afraid to open. This place once had a pulse. Now it felt like the aftermath of someone important dying.
Beside him, Guo Yuwei tightened her coat around herself, shoulders hunched.
"My grandfather used to take me to a noodle shop just down that alley," she said, voice softer than usual. "Said they made broth with patience, not shortcuts."
Lin Feng smiled faintly. "Sounds like we should bring it back."
He didn't need a flashy move this time. What he needed was something better—something honest.
He tapped into the Heavenly Group and dropped a question:
"If you had to revive a place without destroying its soul, where would you start?"
Replies poured in. Most of them were predictable—invest, redevelop, modernize. Only one stood out:
[Hua Qingyu]:"Start by listening. Then fix what matters, not what looks expensive."
He liked that. So he made the call.
By the end of the day, three projects were quietly funded—one old orphanage, a decaying temple, and that noodle shop Yuwei remembered. No fanfare. No press. Just quiet restoration and anonymous donations under the shopkeepers' own names.
Let the city talk if it wanted. He wasn't there for applause.
Somewhere uptown, Xu Shanyue sat in a velvet booth with a crystal glass half full. Across the screen of her tablet, Lin Feng's quiet restoration plan was being shared in closed circles.
She tilted her head slightly.
"He didn't try to conquer it," she said aloud. "He earned it."
Luo Zixuan, sipping his drink beside her, rolled his eyes. "It's just another stunt."
But Shanyue's lips curled.
"No. It's a move. And a smart one."
Back in the Old District, Lin Feng was about to leave when an old man flagged him down. He held a photograph—yellowed at the edges. In it, a row of children grinned over steaming bowls, a faded noodle shop sign behind them.
"That shop was the heart of this place once," the old man said, voice a little rough with emotion. "You're giving it a chance again."
Lin Feng stared at the photo for a while, then nodded. "We'll make sure it beats again."
[System]: Host, was that a human tear I almost processed? If I had a heart, it'd be feeling things.