Chapter 152 Official Announcement of Car Manufacturing! Executives from Domestic and International Automakers Break Out in a Cold Sweat

The faint blue flame trembled under the cold draft.

Its weak light flickered against the glass.

Chu Xuan's mouth hung open, the muscles in his cheeks twitching uncontrollably.

The crumpled tissue in his hand, now damp and smelling stale, dropped onto the wool carpet with a "plop."

He didn't even have the presence of mind to bend down and pick it up.

His eyes were fixed intently on Lu Jingming.

"M-make… cars?"

Chu Xuan felt a lump in his throat and coughed twice.

He slapped his thigh in agitation. "Mr. Lu, that's a money pit on four wheels! You could throw hundreds of billions of dollars into it and not even hear a splash!"

Lu Jingming released his thumb.

The plastic casing clicked shut, and the flame vanished.

"I have too much money and nowhere to spend it. I'm happy just to hear it make a sound."

The plastic flip-flop on his foot dangled in mid-air.

He turned his head to look at the corner.

"Weiliang, log in. Post a notice."

Xia Weiliang was barefoot.

Her toes were scratching at a peeling spot on the edge of her swivel chair.

She was chewing on a piece of crispy noodle snack, making a loud "crunch" sound.

She wiped the corner of her mouth with the back of her greasy hand.

"Post what? Writing a long post would require making up words on the spot, and my brain is fully occupied with low-level computing power scheduling."

She rolled her eyes dramatically and pushed off the floor with her soles to slide toward the keyboard.

"Just two words. 'Car manufacturing.'"

Lu Jingming said, one hand in his pocket, not even glancing her way.

Xia Weiliang tapped her fingers on the grease-stained keyboard.

She added a period and hit the Enter key.

Eleven o'clock at night.

The official verified account of Xinghai Technology updated.

There were no images, no flashy performance previews.

Just a crisp, clean "Car manufacturing." posted for all to see.

One minute later.

Old Zhou sat in the security booth outside the main gate, wrapped in a musty military overcoat.

He pulled out his old phone, wanting to refresh the page to check tomorrow's weather forecast.

The gray circle on the screen spun frantically.

It spun for a full five minutes.

The screen went white, and a string of network error code popped up.

The Weibo server had been smoked by those two words.

Programmers in Yanjing sprang up from their folding beds, running barefoot to the server room to plug in network cables and expand capacity.

This news was like a viper with legs.

It slithered along the submarine fiber optic cables, creeping directly into the beds of global car company CEOs.

Tokyo, Japan.

On the top floor of the Toyota headquarters building, raindrops pelted against the glass curtain wall.

Akio Toyoda was wearing a loose bathrobe.

He held a white porcelain cup, gently sipping some sake.

The aroma of warm rice wine wafted behind the Japanese sliding door.

"Bang."

The sliding door was rudely yanked open.

The wooden rail emitted a harsh, grating sound.

The head of the Greater China Region held up a tablet, stepping onto the tatami mats without even taking off his shoes.

His suit jacket was soaked dark on the back, dripping water.

"Chairman! Xinghai… Xinghai is going to manufacture cars!"

His breathing was wheezing like a bellows.

Akio Toyoda's wrist trembled.

His fingertips slipped from the rim of the cup.

The white porcelain cup fell onto the wooden floor and shattered, shards flying everywhere.

The sake splashed onto his white socks, feeling ice-cold.

Red bloodshot lines rapidly crawled into the whites of his eyes, and he gritted his teeth until they ached.

"Say that again?"

On the other side of the globe.

Stuttgart, Germany, Mercedes-Benz headquarters.

The smell of cigars in the conference room made people's eyes sting.

Several blond executives had been dragged out of bed by phone calls, their shirt buttons done up incorrectly.

On the projector screen was a screenshot of that two-word Weibo post from Xinghai.

"What right do they have?"

A pot-bellied executive slammed his hand onto the oak table.

It made the coffee cups jump, and brown liquid splashed out.

"Cars rely on internal combustion engines! On a century of accumulated chassis tuning data!"

His spit sprayed onto the back of the leather chair opposite him.

"Do those Chinese people think manufacturing four wheels is the same as making mobile phones, just sticking a shell together with glue?"

Another tall, thin executive wiped the cold sweat from his neck.

His fingernails were digging deep into the leather armrest.

"But… they have the Pandora underlying system in their hands."

The tall, thin man swallowed dryly. "And the fully automated robotic arm production line from Foxconn with a 100% yield rate."

"If they really manage to put that terrifying computing power into cars, this…"

The pot-bellied executive fell silent.

His mouth hung half-open, his throat feeling as if it were stuffed with sand, unable to make a sound for a long time.

The arrogance of traditional car companies.

In the face of Xinghai's unreasonable, dimension-crushing technology, it was as flimsy as a piece of waste paper soaked in rain.

They cursed with disdain.

But the shirts on their backs were already soaked as if dipped in ice water, clinging tightly to their spines.

Cutting back to Toyota's Tokyo office.

Akio Toyoda stood up.

His feet stepped over the broken porcelain shards, making a crunching, cracking sound.

He stared fixedly at the head of the Greater China Region.

"Contact the PR department in the country immediately. Issue a press release for me."

The corner of Toyoda's eye twitched violently.

"Tell the market that the mechanical quality of fuel-powered cars can absolutely not be replaced by a pile of broken code!"

The head of the Greater China Region's legs were trembling.

He hurriedly raised the tablet in his hand.

The tablet was currently running a video conference with the regional executives.

On the screen, the president of Toyota's China region was pulling at his tight tie.

The sheen of oil on his forehead reflected the harsh light from the ceiling lamp.

He was shouting into the microphone, trying to bolster his own courage.

"Cars are a matter of life and death!"

The voice of the China region president cracked, his breathing sounding frighteningly loud.

"That Lu Jingming is just a phone-making bumpkin crossing over!"

He slammed the table hard, venting the panic he couldn't suppress in his heart.

"His first car will definitely fall apart on the highway! We just have to wait and watch him go to jail!"

Donghai City.

In the top-floor office of Xinghai Technology, autumn rain tapped against the explosion-proof glass.

Lu Jingming had just dug a can of cold cola out of the small refrigerator in the corner.

His fingertip hooked the aluminum ring, and with a "click," he pulled it open.

White cold mist drifted out from the can's opening.

Accompanied by the click-clack of high heels on the wool carpet, Shen Qingqiu walked over.

The cuffs of her white shirt were rolled up to her elbows, revealing her cold, pale forearms.

She carried a faint, cool fragrance, mixed with the lingering scent of black coffee.

In her hand, she held an intercepted surveillance briefing from the Intelligence Department.

The pages rustled loudly as they were pinched by her slender fingers.

"The reaction from the joint-venture car companies is faster than expected."

Shen Qingqiu adjusted the gold-rimmed glasses on the bridge of her nose.

A cold, actuary-like glint flashed behind the lenses.

She slapped the briefing onto the glass coffee table, making a dull thudding sound.

"The Greater China Region executives of Toyota issued a press release overnight."

Shen Qingqiu stared at Lu Jingming, the tips of her high heels moving slightly by half an inch.

The heels pressed into the pile of the carpet.

"They say that the first car you build will definitely fall apart on the highway."

She raised an eyebrow slightly, her tone hinting at the demeanor of a spectator.

"Lu Jingming, this mud has been slung right at your door. How are you going to respond?"