Start by Spending One Billion [Entertainment Industry]

The chubby hotel chairman had just approached Sheng Quan and was about to step closer when he noticed a tall man beside her subtly shift his stance, positioning himself protectively in front of her.

From this angle, no matter what the chairman intended to do, the man could easily block and subdue him.

Jiang Lu's movement was subtle, but as someone who had built a large hotel empire, Director Xin was sharp enough to notice. He inwardly marveled at the bodyguard's reflexes and immediately halted, maintaining a safe distance.

"I'm Old Xin—we met at that cocktail party last time."

"When someone lowers their posture, they must be seeking something."

Director Xin embodied these eight words perfectly.

First, he mentioned that one of his subsidiaries rented space in Huaxing Building. Then, he brought up his past collaborations with Mr. Wang, weaving an elaborate logic: "Mr. Wang and I are close, and Mr. Wang is close with you, so naturally, we should be close too."

By the time Director Xin reached the point of declaring, "With our relationship, how could we let you pay for dining at our hotel? It’s on the house!" Sheng Quan couldn’t help but laugh and cut him off.

"Director Xin, just tell me what you need. With the way you’ve approached me, as long as it’s not too difficult, I’ll do my best to help."

Director Xin’s round face immediately lit up with delight. "Then I’ll get straight to the point. I heard you bought thirteen private helicopters for filming—all J500 series?"

Sheng Quan wasn’t surprised. Though she hadn’t publicized the purchase, Director Xin, being well-connected in the industry and familiar with Mr. Wang, would naturally have heard about it.

The helicopters were openly stationed at the filming site, and the hangar was nearly complete. There was no effort to keep it secret, so it made sense he knew.

She nodded. "Yes, thirteen. Are you looking to buy some as well?"

Hearing her confirmation, Director Xin’s smile grew even more ingratiating. "At 70 million per unit? My humble business could never afford that."

He wasn’t being modest.

As everyone knew, for businesspeople, assets and cash were two different things. Most of their wealth was tied up in investments—not something they could liquidate at will.

A billionaire might barely scrape together 100 million in cash.

Take Director Xin, for example. He might manage to buy one, but the cost was simply too steep for him to justify.

And then there was Sheng Quan, who had casually spent 900 million on thirteen helicopters just for a film. The most astonishing part? She was only in her early twenties.

A young tycoon splurging 900 million was an entirely different concept from an older wealthy person doing the same.

No wonder Director Xin was treading so carefully around her.

Besides, he did have a favor to ask.

"A wedding?"

Sheng Quan wasn’t surprised at all. In fact, she murmured to 006, [Here it comes.]

This was exactly why she had been so thrilled when she won thirteen helicopters in the lottery, even knowing they weren’t the most practical assets.

In China, where low-altitude airspace wasn’t fully open, these luxury private helicopters required flight path approvals for every use, making them seem somewhat impractical.

But that very limitation also gave them a unique advantage:

At present, Sheng Quan was the only person in China who owned ten of these high-end private helicopters.

Of course, others in the country owned similar models, but no one had purchased them in bulk like her.

Yet there were always occasions when wealthy individuals needed them—and that’s where connections came into play.

Like now, with Director Xin.

If Sheng Quan had spent the 900 million herself, the networking benefits wouldn’t have justified the cost.

But these helicopters were lottery winnings!

Essentially, she got all these status symbols for free, with the added bonus of building connections. It was a win-win.

Director Xin was practically groveling. "That’s right. She’s our only daughter, and we want her wedding to be extraordinary. So we were hoping to trouble you for this favor."

It wasn’t uncommon these days for grooms to arrive by helicopter, but Director Xin had done his research. Most rental options in China were basic models—cheaper ones costing a few hundred thousand, the pricier ones a few million at most.

For his own wedding, he might have settled for that. But for his daughter? Only the best would do.

"Don’t worry, we’ll pay the rental fee. Of course, I know money means nothing to you, but we still want to show our sincerity. And the meal is definitely on us."

Director Xin was still nervous. Private helicopters were usually personal assets, rarely lent out.

When news broke of Sheng Quan commuting in her newly purchased helicopter, he hadn’t even considered asking her.

But then she bought thirteen more for her film crew.

Though not as flashy as her personal model, he figured if she was willing to use them for filming, she might be open to lending them.

While he fretted, Sheng Quan agreed without hesitation.

"No need for rental fees. Your daughter’s wedding is a joyous occasion—consider the helicopters my wedding gift."

She said yes!

Director Xin was overjoyed. He never expected Sheng Quan to be so generous. These were 900 million yuan worth of helicopters, and she treated the matter so casually.

Though her refusal of payment meant he owed her a favor, it was one he was happy to owe. After all, in all of China, only Sheng Quan had this many luxury helicopters at her disposal.

Once the rental details were settled, Sheng Quan took her leave.

Watching her entourage escort her away, Director Xin couldn’t help but sigh in admiration. No wonder she had achieved so much at such a young age—she truly knew how to handle things with grace.

Humming cheerfully, he returned to the hotel, where one of the receptionists—a distant niece from his hometown—asked curiously,

"Uncle, who was that?"

Director Xin: "Shouldn’t you young people recognize her? Sheng Quan, the chairwoman of Starlight Entertainment."

The name "Starlight Entertainment" might not ring a bell, but "Sheng Quan" was instantly familiar to anyone who spent time online.

"That’s Sheng Quan?! Oh my god, I’ve seen videos of her casually dropping 100 million!" The niece sighed in regret. "I caught a glimpse when they came out, but she was surrounded by so many people I couldn’t even see her face. What a shame."

"You wanted to see her face? Every single person around her is a bodyguard." Director Xin couldn’t help but feel a twinge of envy. "Haven’t you noticed how their anniversary events strictly ban outsiders? What’s there to hide at an anniversary celebration? It’s all for Chairwoman Sheng’s safety."

After all, this was someone who had just spent 900 million on private helicopters.

Director Xin hadn’t arranged for personal bodyguards, only keeping two assistants and a driver—after all, China’s overall environment was quite safe, and he usually felt secure during his travels.

But then he thought about the tall, imposing bodyguards he’d just seen accompanying Sheng Quan—each with an exceptional physique, a coldly dignified presence, and an intimidating aura even when silent…

Though Director Xin was already in his fifties, he had to admit: the sight was undeniably impressive.

Come to think of it, he’d heard she owned a security company. While most of its services were reserved for artists under Starlight Entertainment, it was rumored they also took external assignments.

Putting aside the fact that he owed Sheng Quan a favor, she was simply someone worth befriending.

Having made up his mind, Director Xin immediately instructed his assistant:

"Find the contact details for the security company Sheng Quan runs. Have them recommend one—no, two bodyguards for me."

"And about that celebrity endorsement we discussed yesterday? Only hire artists from Starlight Entertainment. Also, reserve a luxury suite in all our hotels exclusively for Sheng Quan."

She likely wouldn’t stay at his hotels, but what if she did?

As the saying went: she might not use it, but he couldn’t afford not to prepare.

Director Xin was just the beginning. As news spread that Sheng Quan had purchased thirteen private helicopters for film production, she noticed a growing number of people gravitating toward her.

The Huaxing Building and Starlight Estate were at least real estate investments, and funding student research projects could be written off as buying goodwill.

But spending 900 million to buy over a dozen luxury helicopters when China’s low-altitude airspace wasn’t even fully open? That was pure, unadulterated extravagance.

Yet it wasn’t just these newcomers who saw Sheng Quan as wealthy. The production team of Interstellar War had now moved to military bases for filming.

At the six-month mark of shooting, the budget had been hemorrhaging money—painful, yet unstoppable.

Fortunately, progress was smooth, and they arrived at the military zone as scheduled.

Flying thirteen helicopters near the base naturally required special permission. When the application reached the officers, the contents left them stunned.

"Thirteen J500-series helicopters? All privately owned?"

"Correct. Every single one."

The officer couldn’t help doing the math—thirteen units, each costing over 70 million…

"Damn. That’s some serious money."

Another officer chimed in, "You’re just realizing she’s loaded? Look at how much she’s donated to our forces. The logistics team grins like fools every time her name comes up."

In terms of goodwill, Sheng Quan’s reputation among the military was sky-high.

She had wealth, but she was also generous toward them—especially with her company’s initiative to hire veterans, which won over the officers’ hearts.

Even the soldiers involved in filming found the experience novel and enjoyable.

Under regulations, troops could participate in shoots as long as it didn’t interfere with training, confidentiality, or operations.

Making a movie? Everyone was curious. Though most scenes followed standard drill procedures, the finer details were handled by the actors.

Still, they got a glimpse of the props:

Life-sized robotic transport dogs, sleek and futuristic-looking cannons, VR-like 3D holographic maps—even if some were just for show, they looked undeniably cool.

Xu He, one of the soldiers involved, found the ten-day shoot fascinating. His squad leader mentioned they’d get to watch the film once it released, and he couldn’t wait.

His favorite part? Watching those black helicopters crisscross the sky—massive, sleek, and radiating sheer dominance.

While military films often featured choppers roaring into action, his unit had no helicopters of its own. Only a few veterans had seen them deployed.

"Helicopters usually show up for disaster relief. Our brigade doesn’t have an aviation unit, so of course we don’t have any," one veteran explained.

After chatting about the day’s shoot and speculating whether the movie would be good, life returned to routine.

Xu He heard the crew had moved to another location afterward, and the novelty of "that movie shot here" gradually faded in the barracks.

Then, ​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‍about two months later, in the predawn gloom, emergency alarms blared. Xu He bolted awake, dressed, and scrambled out.

Floods in Lücheng. Landslides. Collapsed roads. Civilians trapped. Their unit was being deployed for disaster relief.

This was Xu He’s first emergency rescue mission since enlisting. Nervous but swift, he boarded the rumbling transport.

Maybe because the film’s helicopters had left such an impression, his first thought was: If we had that many choppers now, we could save people faster.

He quietly asked the veteran, "Will there be helicopters for this operation?"

"Definitely, but usually no more than five per division. Might take time to mobilize more. Hopefully, they can scramble extra—the more, the better."

The troops arrived in Lücheng at top speed. As they disembarked, a soldier nearby suddenly perked up. "Hear that? Choppers?"

The familiar thrum of rotors grew louder. Xu He looked up—and gaped.

"Aren’t those Interstellar War’s helicopters?!"

Others craned their necks. "Looks like them. Count them… yep, all thirteen."

Flying in tight formation at low altitude, the massive black choppers seemed to fill the sky.

Thirteen in total, blades churning, they arrowed straight toward the disaster zone.