But why do so many people still make such a choice?

There are two reasons. First, they believe that selling assets to save the market will bring them back to life. Once a person starts gasping for air, they’ll keep gasping until the oxygen in the limited space grows thin, and death becomes inevitable.

The second reason is that they have no choice. Most businesses or families aren’t ruled by a single person’s decisions. The intertwined interests of stakeholders push them down the wrong path.

Even knowing there’s a bottomless abyss ahead, they have no choice but to jump, praying for a chance at rebirth.

Of course, if this were Luo Yao, things wouldn’t have reached this point. She would’ve cut her losses immediately. But other businesses can’t do that.

Time passed quickly, and soon it was noon. Luo Yao stood up and left her office.

An assistant looked puzzled. "President Luo, aren’t you waiting for Young Master Lin to bring you lunch?"

Luo Yao’s expression instantly turned icy, her gaze sharp enough to kill.

"You seem very concerned about A’Ran."

"N-no, I just wanted to know if we should prepare lunch for you."

The assistant was terrified. This was Luo Yao, after all.

If President Luo misunderstood her as having feelings for Lin Ran, her career would be over.

Luo Yao’s knife-like eyes scrutinized the assistant for a full five seconds before she finally withdrew her murderous aura and shook her head. "No need. I’m not hungry."

Had the assistant shown even a hint of affection for Lin Ran, she’d already be gone.

Luo Yao left, leaving the assistant drenched in cold sweat.

Five seconds.

In just five seconds, she’d experienced what it felt like to flash-dance before the King of Hell.

The fear was worse than death itself.

President Luo’s aura was truly terrifying.

Wait—

What did President Luo just say? She wasn’t waiting for Young Master Lin to eat? She wasn’t hungry?

The sky was falling.

When the assistant returned to the office area, she was met with a chorus of wails.

Only two people were smiling: Fan Guzai, who’d won 35,000, and Wang Fang, who’d won 350,000.

"Wang-jie, you’re so generous. About the money…"

Wang Fang smiled. "Oh, the betting pool? Just give it all to me."

Wang Fang didn’t care about the 350,000. Despite being just a special assistant, her monthly salary was nothing to scoff at.

The bookies handed over the money without complaint. They weren’t sore losers—10,000 each was just pocket change.

As long as they did their jobs well, President Luo’s bonuses alone would far exceed that amount.

That was why, despite Luo Yao’s fearsome reputation, so many talented people fought tooth and nail to become her assistants.

Wang Fang suddenly stood up, holding her winnings.

"Since it’s lunchtime, let me announce something. Once this round of work is done, your Wang-jie is treating everyone to a feast at the Pangu Hotel. My treat."

"Woo-hoo!"

"Special Assistant Wang, you’re the best!"

"I was just cursing you in my head, Wang-jie. I take it back—you’re my goddess!"

The praise poured in without restraint. Wang Fang had masterfully turned spending others’ money into building her own goodwill, playing the game of social politics flawlessly.

Luo Yao went straight to the parking lot, where Lin Ran was already waiting.

She got into the car and immediately threw herself into his arms.

"A’Ran, I missed you so much."

She hadn’t spent much time with Lin Ran these past few days, and it felt like she was suffocating.

It was as if she couldn’t breathe unless she clung to him.

And Lin Ran, without Luo Yao in sight, felt restless and disinterested in everything.

"I missed you too, wifey. Let’s go eat."

"Mmm… I want to eat street food with A’Ran."

A tycoon like her, craving street food?

That was… oddly specific.

"Okay."

If Luo Yao asked, Lin Ran would never refuse. He simply wasn’t wired to say no to her.

As the capital of China, Beijing wasn’t exactly overflowing with street vendors, thanks to strict urban management policies.

But there were designated areas where they could still be found.

Naturally, Lin Ran and Luo Yao opted to reserve the entire street.

Before they arrived, their bodyguards had already sprung into action.

It was still early, so the snack street was relatively quiet, with only a few hundred people around.

But when the bodyguards showed up, the crowd erupted in protests.

That is, until each person was handed a stack of cash as compensation. Suddenly, everyone was all smiles.

This proved that the right approach earned respect, while the wrong one only invited complaints.

By the time Lin Ran and Luo Yao arrived, the street had mostly cleared out.

Then, the onlookers caught sight of the couple entering the snack street.

"Holy shit, it’s Lin Ran! Aaaah, my OTP is right there! I don’t want the money—let me in!"

"I want an autograph! A selfie! I want Luo Yao! I want to be a kept man!"

"Lin Ran, Lin Ran, I love you, like mice love rice!"

"Ugh—this 10,000 yuan is such a rip-off. If I could get their autograph, I could sell it for 100,000!"

"Bodyguard bro, here’s another 20,000—just let me in!"

Little Tong frowned. "Do we look like we need money?"

Lately, the "Goddess Luo Conquers Lin" couple had gotten way too popular, making their jobs much harder.

If they hadn’t brought extra manpower today, controlling the crowd would’ve been impossible.

These people took the money and now wanted to backtrack? That wasn’t how things worked.

The couple found a malatang stall—a mobile food cart set up outdoors.

"Yao Yao, are you sure you want this? It’s pretty spicy. What about your stomach…?"

Luo Yao had no intention of explaining that she didn’t actually have stomach issues.

Since the misunderstanding was already in place, there was no point clarifying.

Explaining would mean admitting she’d kept it from her husband—and what if he got upset?

Better to let the misunderstanding continue. Ideally, he’d never find out, and he’d keep cooking for her forever.

As long as she never said it out loud, it wasn’t technically a lie.

"It’s fine. I’ll go easy on the spice."

Well, if his wife said so, then malatang it was.

Luo Yao picked out some simple ingredients with the tongs, while Lin Ran selected what he considered somewhat nutritious options.

When they brought their bowls to the scale, the cashier—who’d known exactly who they were—was already waiting, her eyes gleaming.

"Young Master Lin, that’ll be 100 million."

"How much?!" Lin Ran nearly choked.

Sure, he was rich, but did they think he was stupid?

What kind of malatang costs 100 million for two bowls?

The cashier grinned. "Yep, 100 million. No refunds after you’ve picked. But…"

"If you and President Luo give me your autographs, it’s free."