As soon as Chen Buhui finished speaking, the room erupted in applause. Official procedures were fair, unlike some small websites that engaged in shady backdoor deals. In reality, the slots had already been pre-determined.
Of course, what surprised everyone even more was the official approach. The expert panel wasn’t just about voting—it was more about future support for the Sci-Tech City project. In other words, the higher the votes a company received, the more experts would be assigned to support them. Those who didn’t receive votes had no choice but to accept it, as the majority ruled.
As long as a project was approved, it meant the majority of experts endorsed it, leaving little room for dissent. The officials’ strategy was truly impressive.
Moreover, the various research institutions under the government had no right to refuse.
At this point, it was clear that the Sci-Tech City project wasn’t just some simple money-making venture. The authorities were clearly aiming to elevate it to an unprecedented level.
Some companies already regretted their decisions. While they had recognized the project’s importance, they had still underestimated just how crucial it was. Had they known earlier, they would have formed alliances with more companies to bid together.
Under the watchful eyes of the crowd, the results were soon announced.
Third place: South China Chamber Alliance—18 votes.
Second place: Luo Corporation—28 votes.
First place: Modu Chamber (including the Samsung Group)—29 votes.As expected, the top three spots went to these three.
Although the Modu Chamber took first place, more people were stunned by Luo Corporation’s vote count.
The biggest difference between Luo Corporation and the other bidders was that while the others had formed alliances, Luo Corporation had gone solo.
The Modu Chamber had the backing of three major families, with branches likely contributing from various fields.
Luo Corporation, on the other hand, was just one entity. Yet, it had still made it into the top three—truly terrifying.
And they were only one vote short. Did that one vote matter?
As long as they made the cut, the final decision rested with the officials, and the winner was still anyone’s guess.
Some were overjoyed, while others were disheartened.
Luo Yao wasn’t surprised by the result. She was determined to win this bidding project.
Once she secured it, she could practically retire.
After completing this project, she could settle down with Lin Ran and enjoy life.
"Congratulations to the three winning bidders. For those who didn’t make it, don’t be discouraged. As a token of appreciation for your support, we will open a door of opportunity for you. If you encounter any difficulties in the future, within the capabilities of the Chinese Academy of Sciences, we will assist where we can."
This was the officials’ way of compensating the losers.
The unsuccessful bidders felt slightly better.
"I hereby announce that the three companies must supplement their proposals within three days and demonstrate their capabilities and commitment. We will conduct a final vote, and the official results will be announced via the government account in five days."
"To ensure the smooth execution of the project upon successful bidding, we require a financial verification. Please consolidate all funds into your designated bidding account within three days. If the bid fails, the funds will be returned to you in five days. If successful, the funds will remain in the account for project use."
Chen Buhui added a few more rules before declaring the event concluded.
To be honest, this wasn’t Lin Ran’s first time participating in a bidding process. He had accompanied his mother to similar events as a child.
But this kind of aggressive bidding was new to him.
Moreover, the process was very different from ordinary bidding procedures—highly unusual.
They even had to prepare at least 10% of the project’s funds upfront.
This was a multi-trillion-dollar project. Ten percent meant hundreds of billions.
Even a conglomerate with a market value of five trillion wouldn’t have that much liquid capital.
But the terrifying part was that Luo Yao could actually produce it.
At this moment, Lin Ran gained a new understanding of Luo Yao’s wealth.
No wonder the black card with a ten-billion limit she gave him was just "pocket money." He had once thought it was an exaggeration, assuming she was just spoiling him out of love.
Now—it really was just pocket money.
"Yao Yao, I’ve never asked before because I didn’t want you to think I’m with you for your money. But I’m genuinely curious—how much do you actually have?"
Luo Yao: "Do you really want to know, Ah Ran?"
Lin Ran nodded.
"I love money. My dream used to be counting cash until my hands cramped. But then I realized that once money reaches a certain point, it really just becomes numbers."
Luo Yao: "Actually, it’s not that much. The funds for this bid are all Luo Corporation can spare without affecting operations. If we lose this money, all we’ll have left is the cold, hard numbers in my personal account."
"Personal account? Cold numbers?"
"Right. Just our private assets—nothing much. A measly few hundred billion, a few dozen luxury mansions, villas, estates, and a few hundred high-end cars. That’s it. If that happens, we’ll just have to live like paupers again."
Lin Ran swallowed hard.
"Do you have some kind of misunderstanding about what ‘poor’ means?"
Though Lin Ran wasn’t entirely familiar with the cash flow of major conglomerates, his instincts told him one thing.
In this world, apart from the government, Luo Yao was the only one who could pull out this kind of money.
Even many countries couldn’t match it.
It was absolutely insane.
"Is that so? But since Ah Ran likes money, I’ll keep earning it. I’ll make sure you have the most money in the world."
Lin Ran: "Yao Yao, don’t overwork yourself. The wealth you’ve accumulated already surpasses many nations. No private enterprise in the world can match this. The only reason the government hasn’t come knocking is thanks to China’s benevolence."
"They already have. Don’t worry, our money is clean. Spend it however you like."
Lin Ran: "Alright then. So, does this mean I can buy whatever I want?"
Luo Yao nodded.
Lin Ran suddenly found the world absurd.
Here he was, busting his ass trying to build a business.
Build what?
What was the point of "entrepreneurship" at this stage?
Maybe he should just hand Nuanyao Group over to Old Wu and spend the rest of his days lazing around, loving Luo Yao.
Without Luo Yao’s money, Lin Ran would be penniless.
His funds were tied up in libraries, schools, Suran Group, and Nuanyao Group—none of which had turned a profit yet.
He had originally planned to use his year-end dividends to buy Luo Yao a birthday gift.
But compared to Luo Yao’s wealth, his earnings were like ants at the feet of a giant.
"Of course. What would Ah Ran like to buy the most?"
What did he want to buy the most?
Lin Ran thought, "No, no."
He still had to keep working.
It didn’t matter how much he earned—whatever he gave Luo Yao would be a token of his heart. Wasn’t that his original intention?
Stay true to the mission, forge ahead.
"What I want to buy depends on what you want the most."
"Besides, the things I truly want can’t be bought with money."