Chapter 83 The Boss's Self-Recommendation Letter

After the people from PJM left, Mu Xin's life returned to that rhythm of superficial calm with turbulent undercurrents beneath.

He first read the email sent by Dan Miller to understand the progress of the island power plant feasibility report.

Then he looked at the construction photos sent by Robert to confirm the pouring status of the hotel's foundation.

Then he checked the operation data of the Water Plant sent by Tobias to confirm that the water quality indicators were all normal.

Finally, he took a glance at the slowly growing population number on the system panel to confirm how much more money he had made today.

Days went by like this, one by one, like a wound-up machine, with every gear turning in its proper place.

Jessica said he was a workaholic, but he denied it; he just had nothing else to do.

In a tiny, insignificant place like Oxford Town, he had neither family nor friends. Besides making money and spending it, what else could he do?

Go to a bar for a drink? Those white girls were indeed pretty, but after chatting for a couple of sentences, he found their heads were completely empty. Aside from which professor assigned what homework today or which party to go to on the weekend, they couldn't talk about anything else.

Sometimes, Mu Xin would think back to the days before the system, remembering the times when he would play video games late into the night and not wake up until the afternoon the next day.

Back then he was poor, but he was happy. Now that he was rich, he actually had less happiness.

Thinking of this, Mu Xin gently stroked his cheek, which counted as slapping himself.

This kind of thinking was just too fucking pretentious... making himself sound like Boss Ma...

But that did not matter. Happiness was a luxury; he did not lack money, but he lacked time.

Let's just get the one hundred thousand people settled first; there would be plenty of opportunities for happiness later.

That afternoon, Mu Xin was on the third floor of the Morris Building looking at the land selection report for the island power plant when Jessica pushed the door open, holding a yellow envelope in her hand.

"What is this?" Mu Xin did not even lift his head.

"A self-recommendation letter." Jessica placed the envelope on the desk. "It is not an ordinary self-recommendation letter; you will know once you see it."

He picked up the envelope and flipped it over to take a look. The envelope was custom-made, with thick, off-white paper that felt like parchment to the touch, and a gold-stamped emblem printed on the top left corner.

A horse standing in profile; anyone who had ever worked in the luxury hotel industry would recognize it at a glance.

Cheval Blanc.

Mu Xin did not rush to open it, but instead turned the envelope over and over a few times, confirming that this was not some kind of prank.

Cheval Blanc. The top-tier luxury hotel brand under the LVMH Group, known in the industry as the LV Hotel.

There were only six in the world. From the snowy peaks of Courchevel in France to the blue waves of the Indian Ocean at the Noonu Atoll in the Maldives, each one was an independent secret realm.

The Cheval Blanc in Paris had only seventy-two guest rooms, hidden within the Samaritaine department store building on the Right Bank of the Seine, rated by 'Best 50' as the best hotel in Paris and ranked fourth globally.

Mu Xin was not unfamiliar with this brand; when he was researching hotel management companies, Cheval Blanc was on his list.

But he did not even reach out to them. It was not that he did not want to, but that he felt his project was not worthy.

A hotel built in a Midwestern agricultural state, next to a cornfield, in a small town with only twenty thousand people—why would Cheval Blanc manage it?

They would even consider Aman beneath them, let alone this so-called hotel in the Midwestern agricultural state.

There were only six in the world, and the site selection for each was extremely demanding; every single one was in a world-class vacation destination.

And Mu Xin's hotel was in Ohio.

No one would ever put Ohio and Cheval Blanc in the same sentence.

Mu Xin opened the envelope. The letter was not long, just one page, and it began with only one sentence.

"I have seen the blueprints for your hotel."

Mu Xin's eyebrows twitched slightly. He had only sent his blueprints to Four Seasons, Mandarin Oriental, and Aman; he had not sent them to Cheval Blanc.

Where did this person see them? He turned to the next page and continued reading.

"Rick and Marwan are both old acquaintances of mine for many years. They did an amazing thing in the Utah desert, and I did not expect them to want to do something even crazier next to a cornfield in the Midwest."

"When Rick sent me the blueprints to look at, he said I would definitely be interested. He was right."

Rick and Marwan were Rick Joy and Marwan Al-Sayed. They knew this person, and their relationship was not shallow, otherwise, they would not have sent over an unreleased design proposal.

He continued reading.

"I am fifty-two years old this year and have worked at Cheval Blanc for seventeen years."

"I built the one in Paris from a pile of ruins, which took sixteen years."

"Some say this is too inefficient, but I do not think so; it is just that some things cannot be rushed."

"A good hotel is like good wine; it needs time to mature. But your project has shown me another possibility—not something nurtured by time, but something smashed out by determination."

"I heard you only took one month to get the ODNR approval, and another week to get the planning permits for two counties. This is very crazy, and I like crazy people."

"I left LVMH not because I lacked the ability, but because I did not want to wait anymore."

"The global expansion strategy does not suit me. I only want to do projects that move me, and your project has moved me."

There was no signature at the end of the letter, only a handwritten phone number and a simple sketch of a horse.

Mu Xin put down the letter and leaned back in his chair.

"What do you think?" he asked Jessica.

Jessica sat across from him. "This person is real. Joy confirmed his identity and said he is one of the core figures at Cheval Blanc."

"The Paris property was handled single-handedly by him; everything from the renovation to the opening was in his hands."

"Seventeen years." Mu Xin repeated the number. "A hotel built in seventeen years."

"Much slower than your construction schedule." Jessica chuckled. "So, why do you guess he is interested in your project?"

"Because of the contrast, I suppose." Mu Xin put down the letter and stretched.

"A person who spent seventeen years polishing a city hotel, seeing a project that aims to build a lakeside hotel from scratch in eleven months—his first reaction is not disdain, but curiosity."

Mu Xin stood up and walked to the window, his mind constantly thinking.

Every Cheval Blanc hotel is like a piece of uncut jade polished for a lifetime; its luster is restrained, but one look tells you it is priceless.

And his own hotel, from receiving the approvals to breaking ground, only took one month.

From breaking ground to opening, the budget was only eleven months.

This timeframe, in the eyes of someone from Cheval Blanc, is probably as absurd as hearing someone say they want to produce a bottle of Romanée-Conti within three months.

Mu Xin turned around, walked back to the desk, and picked up the letter to read it again.

Rick Joy was willing to send him the unreleased design proposal not because they were close, but because Rick felt this project was worth seeing.

And after this person saw it, not only did he not mock it, but he took the initiative to write a letter, even saying he was moved.

This shows that in the eyes of those who truly know the industry, what Mu Xin is doing is not a joke.

"Help me check this person's recent movements. Why did he leave LVMH? When did he leave? Is there any unspeakable reason?"

Jessica had already checked. She pulled a printed document from a folder and handed it to Mu Xin.

"He left at the beginning of this year." Jessica's voice was professional. "After the head of LVMH's hotel division, Stephane Rinderknech, resigned at the beginning of the year, the position has remained vacant."

"It is said that the group is undergoing a major personnel reshuffle internally; even some of Bernard Arnault's confidants have been laid off, and the entire system is contracting and adjusting."

"Against this backdrop, some highly capable executives who do not adapt to the group's standardized operations are being marginalized and then choosing to leave on their own."

"This person is one of them. It is not because he lacks ability, but because what he wants to do is inconsistent with the group's direction."

"His position at Cheval Blanc was not low before; after the Paris property opened, he held a higher-level position within the group, but he chose to leave during the changes at the beginning of this year."

Mu Xin nodded.

"What do you think?" Jessica asked.

"I will first figure out what he really wants." Mu Xin turned around. "If he really wants to come, with his resume, our hotel's grade will directly jump up a level."

"Cheval Blanc-level management, paired with the designs of Rick Joy and Marwan, would be first-class anywhere, and in Ohio, it would be a dimensionality-reducing strike."

"But what if he has other motives?" Jessica's brow furrowed slightly.

"I do not know." Mu Xin shook his head. "That is why I need to meet him first."

"Help me make a call. Just say I want to have a chat with him; he can decide the time and place."

"Are you sure? This person is nearly thirty years older than you. If you sit across from him, you might be eaten down to the bones." Jessica said as tactfully as possible.

"That is perfect." Mu Xin smiled. "I need someone who can eat my bones; I do not need those who only know how to nod and bow."

Jessica nodded, picked up her phone, and walked out.

Mu Xin sat back in his chair and picked up the letter to read it again.

He felt that they might essentially be the same kind of person—the type who, once they have made up their mind, never look back.

His phone lit up; it was a message from Jessica: "He said he can come to Oxford Town the day after tomorrow."

Mu Xin looked at the message and replied with two letters: "OK."