Chapter 73 A Pour of Cold Water

Mu Xin leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping lightly on the desktop.

Seven hundred million.

The Water Plant cost twenty-eight million, the Water Plant renovation twenty-eight million, the hotel one hundred twenty million, the power plant acquisition eighteen million, infrastructure donations twenty million, and the power grid upgrade three to five hundred million.

A project worth nearly a billion dollars.

This was his biggest account to date, so large that Victoria couldn't even be bothered to ask him, "Where is the money coming from?"

Dan said from the side, breaking the silence: "Mr. Mu, there is another issue that might be more troublesome than the money."

"Speak."

"Ohio's power grid is a core region of the PJM Interconnection system. PJM is the largest regional transmission organization in the United States, covering thirteen states from the Midwest to the Mid-Atlantic."

"Any newly built transmission lines or substations with a voltage exceeding one hundred kilovolts must go through the PJM Regional Transmission Expansion Planning process."

He paused, seemingly organizing his words: "This process includes needs assessment, alternative solutions comparison, environmental review, public hearings, and PJM Board approval."

"Finally, it must also go through the final approval of the State Public Utilities Commission."

"The entire process takes at least two years at the fastest."

Mu Xin was stunned for a moment. Two years.

The hotel had less than a year, but the power grid would take two.

"Two years is the ideal scenario," Dan added. "If we encounter lawsuits from environmental groups or opposition from residents along the route, it might not even be settled in five years."

"Power grid projects in Ohio often get stuck at the final approval stage."

Mu Xin saw Dan Miller and his team out.

Victoria stayed behind to organize the documents, and Jessica brought in a few cups of coffee. The three of them sat around the conference table, and the sky outside the window had already darkened.

"Two years." Mu Xin picked up his coffee and took a sip, frowning. "I can't wait that long."

"Then use the State Government's fast track," Jessica said. "Your hotel project has already gone through it, so you should be familiar with the process."

"The power grid project is different from the hotel," Victoria shook her head. "The hotel involves building a structure in a state park."

"The power grid requires laying lines and building substations across the entire state. It involves far more landowners, local governments, and environmental agencies than the hotel."

"The fast track isn't a cure-all; its eligibility criteria are very strict."

"Then we'll do it in phases," Mu Xin put down his coffee cup. "First, satisfy the needs of the hotel and Oxford Town for the next five years, and leave the large-scale expansion for later. Take it one step at a time; no rush."

Victoria opened her notebook and calculated for a moment. "For just the minimum expansion to a scale of about one hundred megawatts, roughly how much money will it take?"

"Seventy-five million to one hundred million dollars," Victoria looked up. "And that doesn't include external approval and coordination costs."

"Let's do it," Mu Xin said.

Jessica and Victoria exchanged glances, neither speaking.

They were already used to Mu Xin; from the Water Plant to the hotel to the power plant, it was like this every time.

What they didn't know was that Mu Xin was looking at the sky outside the window, which had turned completely dark, thinking about one thing.

Not the power grid, not the hotel, not the power plant, but Governor DeWine.

Governor DeWine would be leaving office next year.

He needed to push the Oxford Town power grid project to a point where it couldn't be called off before Governor DeWine left office.

Once a new Governor took office, all projects under review would be re-evaluated. A power grid expansion project by a Chinese international student would not be a high priority in the eyes of the new Governor.

But if the project had already started, the money had been poured in, and the equipment and materials had been ordered, then it would be different.

Even if the new Governor wanted to stop it, they would have to consider the sunk costs and contractual obligations already incurred, as well as the cost of offending that soon-to-be-retired old fox, Governor DeWine.

This was Mu Xin's plan.

First, use Governor DeWine's connections to clear the approval process, then use the fastest speed to pour in the money and get the construction started.

Once the rice is cooked, even if the sky falls, the meal is already done.

He put down his coffee cup and glanced at the system panel.

[Current population of Oxford Town: 10,147]

[US dollars distributed today: 10,147,000]

The population was slowly returning, there were more people on the construction site every day, and the progress was faster every day.

As long as the power grid didn't fail, the hotel would open on time. As long as the hotel was open, Oxford Town's summer vacation would no longer be a ghost town.

As for the blueprint for a power grid for five hundred thousand people, that seven hundred million dollar pie, he didn't need to start chewing on it just yet.

But one day he would have to; it was only a matter of time.

...

Dan Miller's assessment report was like a bucket of cold water, waking Mu Xin from the illusion that everything was under control.

He could throw money at the hotel to speed up the schedule, throw money at the Water Plant for renovations, and throw money at the power plant for acquisitions.

But the power grid was different; it wasn't just a building or a pipeline, but a massive web covering the entire region.

Every node of this web was in someone else's hands, every line had to pass through someone else's land, and every approval step could be delayed indefinitely.

And the core of all this was Governor DeWine.

Governor DeWine had helped him secure the power plant acquisition, but that was because he had provided a sufficiently heavy bargaining chip: the future of Governor DeWine's three children.

Now, the scale of the power grid expansion was much larger than the power plant acquisition, and it involved far more departments.

The State Public Utilities Commission, the PJM Interconnection system, the planning departments of Butler County and Preble County, landowners along the route, and environmental groups—every link could become a stumbling block.

Governor DeWine could help him knock on doors, but he couldn't walk the path for him.

Mu Xin needed a new bargaining chip, a new one that would make Governor DeWine feel that this deal was profitable.

He locked himself in his office and thought for the entire afternoon, drinking four cups of coffee, the whiteboard filled and erased, erased and written on again.

What did Governor DeWine lack?

Money? He didn't lack that.

He had been Governor for eight years. Although his official salary wasn't high, people at his level didn't lack money.

Besides, he was already seventy-nine years old; no matter how much money he was given, he couldn't spend it all.

Power? It was almost gone.

He was leaving office next year, and when that time came, he would even have to hand over the keys to the Governor's mansion.

A retired Governor still had influence, but it was a soft, intangible thing, not power.

Fame? He had had that.

Three terms as a U.S. Senator, two terms as Governor, his name carved on the walls of the Ohio State Legislature building.

But he wanted more. Not more, but longer.

He wanted his name to be remembered—not by history books, but by ordinary people.

Mu Xin wrote one word on the whiteboard: Legacy.

What Governor DeWine cared about wasn't money or power, but how the people of this state would evaluate him after he left office.

He had served for eight years with mediocre achievements; no major scandals, but no major highlights either.

In the history of Ohio, he would likely only be seen as a transitional Governor, sandwiched between a more dazzling predecessor and a more ambitious successor.

But what if there were a college named after him? What if there were a public policy research center named after him?

What if, after he left office, he could see batches of young people studying, researching, and discussing public affairs under his name every year?

Then his name wouldn't just be carved on a wall, but would live in the eyes of everyone who passed by that building.

Mu Xin picked up his pen and wrote four words on the whiteboard: DeWine College.

He stared at these words for a long time, then took out his phone and sent a message to Jessica:

"Help me schedule a meeting with Governor DeWine for tomorrow morning, the sooner the better."