Sheng Quan had long suspected that Jiang Lu was quite an impressive retired soldier, but she hadn’t expected him to be even more remarkable than she imagined.
"Division-level officer…"
She nearly snapped the stick of her candied hawthorn in shock.
This was someone with an official military rank—even after retirement, his pension would be more than comfortable. Yet, a high-ranking officer like this was actually willing to work as a security consultant for her.
Jiang Lu explained, "Retired officers are allowed to choose their own careers post-retirement. It’s within regulations."
"I know it’s allowed, but don’t officers at this level usually receive a substantial pension?" Sheng Quan couldn’t imagine a division-level retiree joining her company just for the money.
Even if he was the restless type, most would just find some light work nearby. Why would someone his age travel all the way to Shanghai?
She immediately grasped the underlying reason and looked at Jiang Lu with certainty. "You must have put in a good word for me."
A rare hint of embarrassment flickered across Jiang Lu’s stern face as he lowered his gaze slightly.
"I only told the truth."
"The division commander became interested after hearing the company recruits retired and disabled veterans. He’s always cared deeply about such matters." Jiang Lu paused, then added, "Or perhaps your salary and benefits were too generous, which made him suspicious."
Sheng Quan understood instantly.
Indeed, her plan to start a security company wasn’t spur-of-the-moment. She’d done her research.
The quality of domestic security services had always been inconsistent. Given the industry’s reputation, most employers hired bodyguards either for show or as enforcers. While bodyguards earned more than average jobs, the pay wasn’t astronomically high—especially after the company’s cut.
Running a security firm involved significant upfront costs: leasing space, renovations, building training facilities, and ongoing programs. To turn a profit, the company couldn’t pay bodyguards excessively.
Naturally, their services were limited—you got what you paid for.
As for the well-known security firms, their fees were exorbitant. If Sheng Quan were just ordinarily wealthy, she might have considered hiring from them. But she wasn’t ordinary.
With 006 still diligently making money for her, Sheng Quan—now fully embracing her role as a wealthy elite—felt her safety was better entrusted to her own people.
She was simply being proactive. But from the division commander’s perspective:
A newly established security company, not even operational yet, offering such high salaries—what were they up to?!
Though the commander might have intended to infiltrate and investigate, Sheng Quan had nothing to hide. In fact, she welcomed such "undercover inspections" with open arms.
Come one, come all—she’d keep every one of them.
Her company had just launched, and already a division-level retired officer was joining as a consultant. Even novels wouldn’t dare write something this unrealistic.
Munching on her candied hawthorn, Sheng Quan mused that between transmigrating into a book, her tycoon system, and now a high-ranking military consultant, her life was practically a Mary Sue fantasy. She might as well write a novel herself.
Then again, her daily routine—wandering around, binge-watching dramas, reading novels, studying, and suffering through CEO courses—was so mundane it would put readers to sleep.
In any case, Sheng Quan wholeheartedly supported the commander’s decision to join as a consultant.
"If he trained you, his benefits need an upgrade. Full room and board, a private courtyard-style suite at the base, company-covered furnishings, annual health checkups, paid leave—all negotiable."
As expected, the commander’s decision to come to Shanghai was 60% for Jiang Lu’s sake and 40% to personally assess Sheng Quan.
He disliked flying, so he took the train. The moment he stepped off, he spotted Jiang Lu at the arrival gate.
The tall man stood there, no longer subconsciously hiding his presence. Though he still restrained his aura, the sharpness in his eyes had softened noticeably.
Jiang Lu’s striking features—chiseled and handsome—combined with his height and solid build made his clothes fit tautly over well-defined muscles. When he wasn’t deliberately concealing himself, passersby couldn’t help but glance his way.
The commander’s heart warmed at the sight. Before he could react, Jiang Lu strode over with his long legs. Despite his seemingly unhurried pace, he covered ground faster than most.
"You must be tired. The hotel is ready."
Effortlessly taking the commander’s luggage, Jiang Lu offered a rare, relaxed smile.
"You brat! Leaving without a word and not even sending updates!"
The commander punched Jiang Lu’s chest playfully, grumbling even as his face betrayed his delight.
"Good, you look well. I’ve always told you—young men shouldn’t act so world-weary. You’re barely thirty, with looks like yours. You should dress sharp and live boldly, just like now."
Jiang Lu endured the commander’s fussing over his old injuries—questions already asked over the phone but now needing visual confirmation.
He stood silently, luggage in hand, letting the older man inspect him from all angles.
Only after the commander was satisfied did they head to the car.
Spotting the luxury vehicle, the commander raised an eyebrow. "Did Miss Sheng lend you this?"
"Yes. She holds you in high regard. Since you’re tired today, she’ll host dinner tomorrow to discuss terms in person."
Jiang Lu kept his eyes on the road as he drove. "Rest assured, Miss Sheng is very law-abiding."
The commander chuckled. "You knew what I was thinking yet still talked me into coming. Seems Miss Sheng isn’t just lawful—she’s someone you trust deeply."
Jiang Lu didn’t deny it, though both knew another reason: the commander’s wife had passed, his children lived afar, and his granddaughter—raised by him—had just left for college.
Such things needed no saying, just as the commander wouldn’t ask how Jiang Lu had fared during his darkest days.
At the hotel, Jiang Lu escorted the commander to his room, habitually checking the surroundings, testing the water and appliances before preparing to leave.
"I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning."
The commander waved him off. "Go on, get out of here."
At the door, Jiang Lu hesitated, turning back as if searching for words.
Amused, the commander teased, "Relax, I’ll play nice with our employer tomorrow. Won’t scare her off."
Jiang Lu replied earnestly, "Miss Sheng is formidable. She wouldn’t be scared."
The commander blinked. "Then what did you want to say?"
A pause.
Two seconds later, the tall man spoke softly:
"Goodnight. Sweet dreams."
The division commander was taken aback as Jiang Lu swiftly closed the door and vanished from sight.
Were it not for the faint swaying of the "Do Not Disturb" sign on the door, he might have dismissed it as age-induced hearing loss.
Jiang Lu! That kid actually wished him good night?
And sweet dreams?!
It was no different from a ferocious beast known for its terrifying roar suddenly meowing like a kitten.
Thanks to Jiang Lu's unexpected behavior, the division commander lay in bed half-convinced he had imagined it.
Before sleep took him, his mind replayed their last meeting:
The once proud and sharp-edged young man, backpack slung over his shoulder, turned to look back with eyes dulled by despair. With visible effort, he forced a pale smile—
"Once I'm better, I'll come see you again."
It sounded less like a promise and more like hollow comfort.
The kind that might never be fulfilled.
Yet now, that day had arrived.
As the division commander settled into the plush bedding, his final thought was:
Fine. For Jiang Lu's sake, if the company's legitimate, a few years of hard work wouldn't hurt.
Unaware that the division commander had already decided to give his all, Sheng Quan was reviewing the international promotion plan for "The Cultivator."
Realistically, no series—no matter how exceptional—could instantly dominate domestic and foreign markets upon release.
To achieve the level of success Sheng Quan envisioned, extensive preparatory marketing was essential.
While promotion typically came later, ambitious productions often drafted strategies years in advance, laying groundwork early. Relying solely on "luck" or "coincidence" was no way for investors to turn profits.
Marking up the documents, Sheng Quan could tangibly measure her progress from all those business courses.
Not that she planned to stop—if workaholic Gu Zhao still found time for classes, she certainly wouldn't slack off. The mere thought of her future commercial empire reignited her drive.
The sound of footsteps interrupted her focus. She glanced up to see Jiang Lu returning from his errand.
"Welcome back, Jiang Lu. Smooth trip? How's the old man's spirits?"
"Very smooth," Jiang Lu replied. "He's looking forward to meeting you."
"Excellent."
The prospect of a retired division commander joining as consultant thrilled Sheng Quan.
This wasn't just about prestige—Jiang Lu's recommendation guaranteed exceptional mentorship.
Moreover, the division commander's involvement signaled smooth sailing for her veteran recruitment initiative, possibly even garnering military support.
Her study fatigue evaporated as she cheerfully dismissed Jiang Lu:
"Get some rest. Good night, sweet dreams."
Jiang Lu's stern features softened slightly as he responded with habitual professionalism:
"Good night. Pleasant dreams."
Their first meeting with the division commander went suspiciously well—almost too well.
Sheng Quan had expected rigorous scrutiny, but after reviewing the contracts, operational plans, and especially the disabled veterans' employment details, the old officer asked no further questions.
She suspected he'd already vetted her through other channels.
Not that it mattered.
Thanks to 006's groundwork, Sheng Quan's backstory as an heir to generational wealth (with 006 as the first-gen) was airtight. Her profile as a diaspora returnee raised no flags, and the carefully selected offshore jurisdiction housing her "inheritance" ensured every financial transaction appeared legitimate—even under governmental audit.
Her composure visibly impressed the division commander, Qin Guofu, who warmed up considerably over lunch.
Most of his conversation revolved around Jiang Lu's military exploits—omitting classified details, but leaving no aspect of the man's excellence unpraised.
"With his service record and honors, he could've walked into any public security leadership role post-discharge. But the stubborn kid chose to leave."
"Don't let his current demeanor fool you, Miss Sheng. Jiang Lu was the elite among elites. Even now, I wouldn't stand a chance against him."
Sheng Quan recognized the paternal concern—he feared she might underestimate Jiang Lu.
Smiling, she refilled Qin's teacup. "You misunderstand. Jiang Lu radiates capability. Though you've solved my mystery—I always suspected he was extraordinary."
Qin brightened. "Exactly! True talent never fades. It becomes part of you."
"No wonder he was my first choice for consultant," Sheng Quan agreed.
Their mutual praise left Jiang Lu rigid with discomfort, his ears burning as he silently drained cup after cup.
Post-lunch, they toured the nearly completed corporate office and training facility.
The sleek, upscale office served client-facing operations, while the sprawling remote training compound—leased rather than owned—optimized privacy for intensive drills.
A newly hired staff member enthusiastically outlined their curriculum:
"Our program includes combat techniques, risk assessment, defensive strategies, foreign language electives, security protocols, legal applications..."
Qin Guofu nodded approvingly at each module.
Between the pension scheme and multifaceted skill development, even those aging out of fieldwork could transition seamlessly into other careers.
"Solid structure. Just specify your recruitment criteria—my network can deliver however many qualified veterans you need."
The rigorous training requirements didn't faze him. If anything, they validated the venture's seriousness.
No legitimate enterprise handed out money for nothing—and he wouldn't have endorsed such a scheme anyway.
If the joy at the dinner table had merely been from pleasant conversation, then Qin Guofu was now genuinely happy from the bottom of his heart.
The reemployment of veterans was indeed a pressing issue. These were good men and women, especially someone like Jiang Lu, whose physical prowess was exceptional. In the military, they only needed to focus on honing their strength, but in the safe confines of civilian life, such skills often went unused.
As a seasoned officer of the older generation, once Qin Guofu realized that Sheng Quan was truly serious about building this company, his admiration for the young woman soared instantly.
Bodyguard work could be done by anyone with a strong physique, yet Sheng Quan specifically sought out veterans—even those with disabilities. Regardless of anything else, her sincerity touched Qin Guofu deeply.
His way of expressing gratitude was straightforward: "I’ll make sure to praise you young folks to my old comrades."
Qin Guofu could already imagine how overjoyed his friends still serving in the military would be when he shared this news with them.
Even Sheng Quan, who had weathered her fair share of storms, couldn’t help but feel a thrill of excitement.
The old friends of a division commander—what kind of people would they be?
So, was this really not some kind of Mary Sue novel?
—And then, in a very Mary Sue fashion, Sheng Quan spent the next few months in relative calm and uneventfulness.
Until The Cultivator hit the theaters.
