The day began with tension.
Gu Ning entered the school gates with her usual precision—quiet power in every step, her uniform crisp, her hair tied back with surgical neatness. But beneath the routine was a ripple of something sharper. She could feel it. The hallways buzzed—not with noise, but with glances, hushed tones, and unspoken questions. Word traveled fast in this school, and she'd just given them something to talk about.
FENIX.
Her app had gone live less than 48 hours ago. Already, three venture interest groups had reached out. One of them tried to buy her out.
She declined them all.
At the far end of the quad, a curated group waited. Class A elites—sons and daughters of legacy wealth and institutional power. Their presence wasn't casual. It was a statement.
At the center of them was Yan Luo, his school blazer tailored within a millimeter of vanity, a perfectly curated smile on his lips. His father owned two satellite channels and a regional news outlet. That made him influential. Dangerous.
Beside him stood Rui Xia, sharp eyes, neat bob cut, and the kind of calculating presence that could slice a person clean. Rui had always been one step behind Gu Ning in the finance track. She hated that. Now, it seemed, she was trying to step ahead.
"Ning," Yan greeted, stepping forward like a CEO greeting a rival. "Impressive work lately. FENIX, was it?"
Gu Ning offered a cool nod. "You know the name. That's good."
Rui Xia's expression was stiffer. "It's causing waves. Inappropriate waves."
"You mean competition?" Gu Ning's tone was dry.
Yan smirked. "Let's be direct. You bypassed school entrepreneurial channels. You held your own pitch night using off-campus sponsors. And now you're attracting private capital."
"All true."
"That's not how we do things."
"It's how I do them."
Rui stepped forward, her arms crossed. "You're provoking structures that have existed for generations. It's reckless."
Gu Ning's expression didn't flicker. "Structures built to benefit a few. I'm interested in the rest."
Yan's smile faded slightly. "You're making enemies faster than friends."
"I'm not here to make either."
The silence that followed was sharp. The others didn't step in—this was a duel for three.
Finally, Rui turned away with a dismissive wave. "We'll see how long you last."
Gu Ning didn't reply. She walked past them without flinching. The air in the quad felt colder after her passage.
---
That afternoon, the campus social boards exploded. Rumors swirled that Gu Ning had turned down ClearSky Youth Ventures—known for grooming student entrepreneurs and absorbing them into family conglomerates. It was also the same fund that had financed Yan Luo's startup two years ago.
She didn't post a denial. She didn't post anything.
Instead, she let her actions speak. She uploaded a short teaser: a thirty-second glimpse of the FENIX platform. Real-time budget simulations. Automated workflow tools. A feature allowing peer-to-peer service exchanges among youth entrepreneurs.
Within hours, their waitlist tripled.
---
By dusk, Gu Ning returned to her small temporary base of operations—the old supply shed behind the gymnasium. She'd converted it into a tech den using salvaged materials and a secondhand solar unit. It wasn't glamorous. But it was hers.
The cracked screen of her second phone—a relic from her first month back in this timeline—flickered to life. Encrypted messages from her darknet relay system filtered in. One of them caught her attention.
> [Observer.0]: You've disrupted three pipelines in 48 hours. Corporate whisperers are already scrambling. They don't like surprises.
> [Gu Ning]: I'm not here to comfort them.
> [Observer.0]: I've seen this before... Chen Holdings sniffing around. Just like before your 'accident'.
Her fingers hovered above the keyboard.
> [Gu Ning]: What are you implying?
> [Observer.0]: Not implying. Remembering. Patterns are data, Ning. Yours included.
She sat back slowly, staring at the screen. The name—Chen Holdings—stabbed through her with too much familiarity. The company that tried to acquire her first startup in her past life. The same group that sent veiled threats when she refused to sell.
And then—the car crash. No proof. No charges.
Just death.
And rebirth.
Her breath slowed.
Observer.0 knew.
Or at least... suspected the truth.
---
That evening, Zhou Han entered unannounced.
She was hunched over circuit sketches and data logs when his shadow filled the doorway. He leaned casually against the wall.
"You should consider getting real locks."
She didn't flinch. "You should consider knocking."
He dropped a brown paper bag on the desk. The scent of roasted duck and chili oil filled the air.
"I figured brains like yours run better on fuel."
She eyed the bag. "If you're trying to bribe me, it won't work."
"I'm not trying to bribe you," Zhou Han said, pulling up a creaky metal stool. "I'm trying to align interests."
Gu Ning raised an eyebrow. "And your interest is...?"
He leaned forward. "You're changing something. Not just a system. A culture. The kind of change my family fears—and the kind I want in on."
For the first time, something flickered behind her eyes.
"Why?"
Zhou Han's voice lowered. "Because I grew up watching my father crush startups like yours just to eliminate the threat of independence. I'm done watching."
The silence that followed was heavy, but it wasn't cold.
Gu Ning nodded once. "Then stop watching. Start building."
---
Just past midnight, Gu Ning returned to her private blockchain relay. The network had barely stabilized, but Observer.0 had installed redundant masks. She trusted no one—except maybe that ghost behind the screen.
> To: Unit_43
> Subject: Project Ember
> Status: Initiate Phase II. Leak to selective independent journalists. Use ghost ID. Track response vectors. Do not trigger mainline traffic.
She pressed send. The message fragmented into a thousand digital strands, vanishing into the shadows of the internet.
Outside, the wind picked up.
Inside, Gu Ning smiled to herself.
They had no idea who they were dealing with.
But soon... they would.
---