Chapter 110: Fate Ultimately Favours Those Who Strive Harder

The man was about thirty-five or thirty-six, dressed in a suit and wearing glasses. He possessed a peculiar mix of corporate polish and academic stuffiness, making it impossible to tell exactly where he came from.

He spotted the manuscript in Si Chongtian’s hand immediately—it couldn't be helped; when "Little Doggy" got excited, he tended to wave his papers around like a flag, making it hard to miss.

The bespectacled man snatched the manuscript away. Pushing up his glasses, he wore a look of critical scrutiny, as if searching for a flaw in an egg. "Let me see just what kind of level this so-called young calligraphy master really has!"

Oh no.

Shi Tiexin’s heart skipped a beat. Everyone working in the factory area wore work uniforms; this man’s suit clearly marked him as office personnel. While Shi didn’t recognize him, the way he had yanked the paper from Si Chongtian suggested he possessed a non-trivial level of martial cultivation.

Such strength meant he was likely middle or upper management. If he reported Shi for doing non-work-related activities while on duty, it would be troublesome. Even if Little Doggy could eventually smooth things over, it would be an unnecessary complication and might leave a poor impression.

Shi Tiexin opened his mouth to explain: "Sir, actually..."

"Stop, stop, stop! Quiet, don't talk!" The man interrupted immediately. Without looking up, he adjusted his glasses again and studied the practice sheet from top to bottom. A moment later, he looked up at Shi. "Did you write this?"

Great. It seemed trouble was inevitable.

But since it had come to this, there was no choice. Shi puffed out his chest. "Yes, it was me."

The man scrutinized him for a long time, then suddenly beckoned. "Come with me. You—whoever you are—take his place here!"

It seemed this man didn't recognize the young master Si.

Shi had no choice but to follow. The two walked out of the factory side door, one after the other, into the shroud of night. On the dim factory road, the man led Shi a few steps before suddenly pulling him aside and whispering, "I'll ask again: did you really write this?"

*Huh? What's going on? He doesn't act like he's going to report me.*

"Yes, it was me."

"You write quite well, little brother! Your foundation in linguistics is impressive; your regular script has real strength and structure!" The man patted Shi on the shoulder. "Not bad, really not bad. It’s too early to call you a master, but your level is certainly high. Tell me, would you be interested in a side job?"

*What? He wants to offer me a side job?!*

"What kind of job?"

"Writing business cards."

"Business cards?"

*What? I don't quite understand what that entails.*

"Yes, business cards." The man explained, "Brother, to be honest, the Municipal Government has declared this the Year of Culture, and the Star Industry United Group is responding by having its subsidiaries develop their own corporate culture. Culture requires something special. I’m planning on a retro approach—bringing back physical paper business cards. But printed cards don't feel like 'culture,' so, little brother—"

He slapped Shi on the shoulder again. "Help me write these cards. The quality must match this practice sheet. I’ll give you one point for every ten cards. How about it? Interested?"

*Interested? Of course I am! It’s like being handed a pillow just as I’m getting sleepy. I was just wondering how to use my skills to make money, and here comes the opportunity!*

But there was one question: "How many do you need?"

"Four hundred for the first batch." The man looked around as if they were closing a massive deal, then lowered his voice. "Don't think that's too few; it's just the beginning! If the results are good, I’ll apply for a project with the company to have them issued across the board. Think about the volume of business transactions—how many cards would that be? And if it becomes a standard corporate culture project, the scale would be even greater."

"What do you say, little brother? Can you do it, or should I find someone else?"

*Damn it, what else is there to say?*

Shi nodded. "I'm in!"

But why did it all feel so illicit?

"Good. Work hard, little brother. I’ll provide the paper, ink, and materials. If this goes well, we can... 'discuss' the price later." He rubbed his thumb against his fingers. "You understand, right?"

*I understand. We’re going to collude to inflate the price and embezzle public funds. Let’s do it!*

*If it’s for Liu Qigang’s factory, I’ll drain it dry!*

The deal was struck.

The man left his contact information and walked away, looking quite satisfied. When Shi Tiexin returned to the Second Factory, his expression still held a trace of disbelief.

He looked at Si Chongtian and asked hesitantly, "I just picked up a side job, and it’s perfect for me. Tell me, did you arrange this? I don't believe in coincidences like this."

"There are no coincidences, but I certainly didn't arrange this!"

"Then why..."

"Big Brother Tie, all I can say is that fate always favors the diligent, and opportunities are always given to those who are prepared." Si Chongtian waved the manuscript, grinning brightly. "Look at your calligraphy—such excellent work is the 'reason' itself!"

Shi Tiexin stood stunned for a long time before finally letting it sink in.

He realized that while he was indeed the "Iron Overlord" from the orphanage, he was something more now. He had never encountered such good fortune before because he had never possessed such skill before. Today might have been a chance encounter, but it was backed by the necessity of having the talent to match. As his strength grew, his opportunities would multiply, and his life would become richer and more exciting.

"Yes, ability is the greatest factor."

Shi Tiexin suddenly smiled.

A second later, his expression turned incredibly strange.

He had suddenly realized an excellent, highly profitable way to make money that he had previously overlooked.

He stepped forward, staring blankly at his manuscript, a lightbulb flickering on in his mind.

Calligraphy?

Calligraphy...

Calligraphy!

Yes, that was it! The writing itself was the best way to make money!

At 12:30 AM, after eating, showering, and saying goodbye to Little Doggy, Shi Tiexin returned to the orphanage clutching a pile of blank cards and special stationery. He locked the doors and windows, acting as cautiously as a spy.

He clicked on his desk lamp, and his dark face appeared within the only cone of light in the pitch-black room.

Staring down at the paper on his desk, he muttered to himself: "I wonder, is there good money in... piracy?"