Chapter 113 Ballmer flies to China overnight, attempting to acquire [the property] at a high price.

The hoarse roar, like a broken erhu, failed to stop the door from closing.

The night in Yanjing was completely locked inside the conference room.

Meanwhile, at Donghai City International Airport, heat waves rolled across the tarmac.

A Gulfstream business jet, bearing the Microsoft logo on its fuselage, had just taxied to a stop.

The roar of the engines had not yet completely died down when the cabin door was pushed open impatiently.

A gust of sticky, sweltering sea breeze flooded into the cabin.

Ballmer had barely poked half his body out when the heat wave hit him, momentarily cutting off his breath.

He felt as if he had plunged headfirst into a steamer filled with boiling water.

"Fuck! What hellish weather!"

Ballmer's fat chest heaved violently as he loosened his silk tie.

A dense layer of sweat beads instantly covered his shiny bald head.

The sweat gathered into streams, running down his forehead wrinkles.

It flowed into his eyes, causing a stinging, needle-like soreness in the corners.

He pulled a white handkerchief from his trouser pocket.

He wiped his forehead haphazardly, and the fabric instantly became soaked and discolored.

The few blonde assistants following him didn't dare to breathe a word.

They knew their boss was currently a live volcano ready to erupt at any moment.

Microsoft's stock had evaporated over ten billion US dollars in the first hour of trading.

It was all because of the fanless metal laptop that Xinghai had released.

"Is the car ready?" Ballmer stepped down the boarding stairs.

His weight of several hundred jin made the metal steps clang loudly.

"Boss, the Maybach is already waiting below, and the air conditioning has been turned to the maximum." The assistant swallowed hard and replied tremblingly.

"Go straight to the Xinghai Technology park."

Ballmer squeezed into the back seat, leaving a deep depression in the leather upholstery.

"Tell the driver that running red lights is fine. Microsoft can afford the fines."

Half an hour later, at the base of the Xinghai Technology building.

Three black sedans slammed on their brakes, the tires leaving the smell of burning rubber on the asphalt.

Ballmer pushed open the car door.

A large, dark patch of sweat had already soaked through the back of his suit, sticking tightly to his skin.

The air conditioning from the lobby hit him in the face.

Chu Xuan was standing at the turnstile.

Today, he was wearing a short-sleeved shirt with a green background and large red flowers.

He was clutching a crumpled tissue in his hand, wiping the greasy sweat from his forehead.

When Chu Xuan saw this mountain of flesh squeezing through the door, his eyelids twitched.

He recognized this face; it was plastered all over the Wall Street Journal every day.

"Yo, isn't this President Ballmer?"

Chu Xuan stuffed the used tissue into his pocket and walked up to him.

"Flying all this way, why didn't you even give us a heads-up?"

Ballmer was in no mood to hear the interpreter translate these pleasantries.

He reached out and pushed Chu Xuan, who was blocking his path, aside.

His fan-sized palm nearly sent Chu Xuan stumbling.

"Take me to see Lu Jingming. Immediately."

Ballmer's voice was hoarse, his heavy breathing spraying onto Chu Xuan's face.

In the top-floor office.

The solid wood door was pushed open from the outside.

Ballmer walked in, gasping every few steps, like a rhinoceros that had been sprinting for several kilometers.

The office was kept cool with air conditioning.

Lu Jingming was sitting in the boss's chair.

He had his legs crossed casually, resting on the edge of the dark desk.

He was still wearing that washed-out black T-shirt, the collar a bit loose.

Shen Qingqiu was standing by the coffee machine nearby.

She wore a white shirt and gold-rimmed glasses.

Her high heels clicked on the carpet as she turned around, holding two cups of freshly brewed black coffee.

"Mr. Lu."

Ballmer couldn't wait for anyone to invite him to sit.

He walked straight to the sofa in the reception area and flopped into it.

The sofa let out a "creak" of overwhelmed agony.

Lu Jingming didn't move.

He slowly and leisurely took his legs off the desk.

With a flick of his wrist.

He pulled that one-dollar green plastic lighter from his washed-out jeans pocket.

He pressed his thumb onto the flint wheel. "Click."

A deep blue flame flared up, illuminating half of his face.

His sharp canine tooth glinted with a cold, white light.

"President Ballmer, your ability to handle jet lag is quite impressive."

Lu Jingming casually extinguished the flame.

He spun the plastic lighter between his fingers twice.

"Done mocking me on Twitter from Seattle?"

The flesh on Ballmer's face twitched twice.

He clenched his molars until they ached.

Twitter? Now the entire internet was treating his tweet as a joke.

He took a few deep, ragged breaths, forcibly suppressing his skyrocketing blood pressure.

Ballmer pulled a gold-embossed checkbook from his suit's inner pocket.

He pulled out the fountain pen stuck in his chest pocket.

With a few "swish-swish" strokes, he signed a long string of numbers on it.

He tore off the check, pressed his finger against the edge, and slid it across the smooth glass coffee table toward Lu Jingming.

"I don't have time to beat around the bush. Microsoft wants to take over Xinghai's computer business."

Shen Qingqiu walked over with the coffee.

She glanced down at the check on the coffee table.

The number of zeros on it was dizzying.

She placed the two cups of coffee on the table separately.

The porcelain base clinked against the glass surface with a crisp "ding."

Shen Qingqiu pushed up her gold-rimmed glasses and retreated to Lu Jingming's side.

Lu Jingming didn't even look at the check.

He tapped his knuckles on the table twice.

"Take over? How exactly?"

Ballmer took out his handkerchief and wiped the cold sweat from his bald head again.

He leaned forward, regaining some of the posture of a multinational giant.

"The number on this check is ten billion US dollars."

Chu Xuan had just reached the doorway.

Hearing this number, his legs went weak, and he gripped the doorframe tightly.

Ten billion? In US dollars?

He swallowed hard, his throat aching.

Ballmer stared intently into Lu Jingming's eyes.

"The conditions are very simple. Microsoft will buy out the global exclusive rights to Xinghai OS on the PC side."

His breathing grew heavier, and his eyes were filled with a businessman's greed.

"And, Xinghai must hand over the core underlying code for the ARM instruction set translation."

The office fell silent.

Only the "whooshing" sound of the air conditioning vent could be heard.

Buying out exclusive rights meant Xinghai couldn't make computers itself anymore.

Handing over the core code was equivalent to cutting open the carotid artery in one's neck and draining the most valuable blood for Microsoft.

This wasn't business negotiation; this was coming to strip the bone and suck the marrow.

A cold smile curled on Shen Qingqiu's lips.

The way she looked at Ballmer was like looking at a ridiculous actor who had walked onto the wrong set.

Lu Jingming leaned back in his chair.

He extended two fingers and pinched the corner of the check.

He lifted it up and dangled it in mid-air.

The paper made a light rustling sound.

"Ten billion US dollars. President Ballmer, you're quite generous."

Lu Jingming's voice was languid, laced with undisguised mockery.

"You think you can buy my core code with this?"

Ballmer thought there was a chance.

His thick lips parted, revealing teeth stained yellow by tobacco.

He pressed his thick arms against his knees.

Ballmer interlaced his fingers, wiping the sweat from his palms onto the solid wood desk.

"Mr. Lu, ten billion US dollars. It's enough for you to buy half the real estate in Donghai City."

He leaned forward, bringing with him the condescending pressure of capital.

"As long as you nod, Xinghai will still be the greatest company in China. We will make a fortune together."