Chapter 3 Mountain and Sea Live Broadcast
She looked at Uncle Jiang, then glanced at the sweating funeral home director, and threatened expressionlessly, "If you're playing me, I don't mind adding two more real urns here."
Uncle Jiang, his body hunched over, quickly said, "That really is your father inside. He's been in low spirits lately, always saying he doesn't have much time left. Nobody expected that last night, he'd sneak over here alone and, when no one was around, start the incinerator..."
The funeral home director was on the verge of tears: "I have no idea how he got the access code to get in, but the police have checked the surveillance footage, and it was definitely his own doing. It has nothing to do with our funeral home!" Heaven knows why this person could operate their funeral home's timed system! He berated all his employees, but no one admitted to leaking the operating procedures or the password!
He's been in this line of work for almost twenty years, and this is the first time he's encountered something like this! He's afraid the family members will try to extort money from him!
Just as he was nervously watching Zhang Mo, waiting for her to make a move, he heard Zhang Mo say lightly, "It's okay, what are you still standing here for? Go down."
The curator was momentarily stunned, instinctively feeling that the tone of the voice sounded familiar. It was somewhat like the way an emperor in a palace drama dismisses his servants. Fortunately, he didn't intend to delve into it; he was already thankful that the other party hadn't caused any trouble. He offered a "condolences" and quickly made an excuse to leave.
So Zhang Mo's gaze fell on Uncle Jiang once again.
Jiang Bo's withered fingers clutched a snow-white silk handkerchief, his eyes bloodshot as he struggled to control his emotions, looking as if his own father had died.
Hmm...that's not right either...
Zhang Mo gave Uncle Jiang another complicated look. Well, to put it simply, saying he looked like he'd just lost his father wasn't quite accurate; she felt he looked more like he'd just lost his husband...
This made her start to have strange associations with the relationship between the two...
Could it be that she went out and had a one-night stand with men today?
Never mind, it's not important, and she doesn't care.
"Enough with the nonsense, I need his identification," Zhang Mo asked.
Uncle Jiang took out a photo, a snapshot taken at the beach, with a timestamp in the lower right corner from last summer.
He was a very handsome man who looked to be no more than 40 years old. Most importantly, his face was almost exactly the same as Zhang Mo's.
The source of Zhang Mo's overly heroic temperament seemed to have been found all at once.
In Uncle Jiang's eyes, this was much more useful than any paternity test.
However, Zhang Mo disagreed, coldly and meticulously stating, "That doesn't prove that the ashes in the urn are from the person in the photo."
Uncle Jiang was stunned, wringing his hands in bewilderment: "But, this really is your father."
Zhang Mo turned and left, saying, "I'm leaving if I don't have any other evidence."
Uncle Jiang: "Wait, wait! I... I don't have any other evidence, but I do have a will. If anything happens to him, as long as you are willing to come and see him one last time, one of his companies will belong to you alone."
"Oh." Zhang Mo turned back, her eyes displaying an innate coldness. She glanced at the urn indifferently, then looked up expressionlessly. "Finished looking? Hand over the property."
.
An hour later, Zhang Mo arrived at the largest conference room of "Shan Hai Live".
All of Zhang Mo's dead father's assets were a live streaming platform called "Shan Hai Live".
The rented office space is located in an office building in the city center, not far from Zhang Mo's current residence.
This is a very, very small live streaming platform. So small that when Zhang Mo searched for this platform online, the first five results were advertisements for other companies, and she only saw "Shanhai Live" on the sixth result.
Upon arriving at the company headquarters, Zhang Mo surveyed the conference room, and only one word came to mind—
break!
Although it's touted as the largest conference room in the entire company, it can barely seat ten people, and even the stools are the cheapest bright red square plastic stools used in homes!
Not to mention the patches of mold that appeared on the ceiling due to water seepage.
If you didn't know better, you'd think it was some small private room that was temporarily added to a roadside eatery...
It's 2 PM now, and perhaps because of the lunch break, the lights in the offices outside are off, and there's not a soul in sight. A deathly stillness permeates the entire area, as if time itself has forgotten it.
The most outrageous thing is that they didn't even turn on the heating in this cold weather, making it look like a shell company ready to pack up and run away at any moment...
Zhang Mo, an outstanding student in the Computer Science Department of Q University, had been working for major internet companies since her senior year internship. She had never seen such a small workshop before and found it extremely distasteful. She didn't even want to sit down and stood by the window with her arms crossed, looking down.
Just then, I saw a group of brave police officers leading a group of criminals wearing black hoods out of the building, and they squatted in three neat rows next to the police car.
Zhang Morui commented: "A place blessed with outstanding people and beautiful scenery."
In fact, because she lived nearby, Zhang Mo had actually heard the legends about this office building. She heard that the whole building was full of people committing telecommunications fraud or swindling elderly people out of health products, and that it was hard to find a single legitimate company.
However, based on the data she just collected, "Shanhai Live" is indeed a legitimate company, just not very profitable.
Just then, I heard someone push open the door behind me. The red wooden door had probably been used for a long time; the hardware was rusted and made a loud creaking sound.
Zhang Mo looked in the direction of the sound without saying a word, and Uncle Jiang walked in carrying two black folders.
Jiang Bo, the president's assistant, was still immersed in grief over his boss's death. He looked listless and slowly walked to the table to put down the folder.
Zhang Mo walked over and waved her hand at him: "Pen."
Uncle Jiang blew his nose heavily, composed himself, and finally pushed two folders in front of Zhang Mo: "Sign these two documents, and the company and all its employees will belong to you."
"Oh." Zhang Mo quickly scanned the first folder. There were no problems, and since Wang Heng owned 100% of the company, there was no one else to inform.
She had asked an acquaintance to appraise the value on her way here, and the value written on it was about the same as her estimate, over ten million.
That old bastard didn't spend a single penny on her upbringing back then, and now he's made his money back in one go. He deserves it.
Zhang Mo signed the document readily, each stroke as sharp as if cutting into Wang Heng's bones.
The second document was about employees, mainly targeting the streamers who had long-term contracts with the company. It listed the streamers' names, genders, ID numbers, special skills, and hobbies in great detail in a table format, forming a thick stack. Aside from the obviously invalid 9999-year contract terms, there was nothing particularly special about it.
Zhang Mo glanced at them and estimated there were over a hundred people.
She was somewhat surprised that such a small and run-down platform could have so many long-term contracted streamers, and she wondered how they were all tricked into signing the contracts.
However, this is not something she should be concerned about right now.
She doesn't care about these people; she plans to sell the platform along with their contracts.
With 300,000 registered users and a group of contracted live streamers, a price of 6 million should be enough to quickly close the deal, based on current market rates.
Then we'll divide it into three parts: one to donate to an orphanage, one to squander, and the remaining amount to go abroad for another medical checkup...
If the test still can't find anything, then she can finally give up.
Having made up her mind, Zhang Mo hurriedly signed the second document as well.
With both contracts signed and the matter settled, the company that originally belonged to her deadbeat father now completely belonged to Zhang Mo.
Thinking of this, Uncle Jiang couldn't help but feel very sad. Suddenly, he handed a round company seal to Zhang Mo: "This is... the company's official seal."
Zhang Mo subconsciously took the official seal, held it in his hand and weighed it. It didn't feel like wood; instead, it felt as heavy as a block of iron.
The fact that the official seal had been handed over meant that Wang Heng, whose body was barely cold, was now a thing of the past. Jiang Bo couldn't help but feel a deep sadness, and with a fragility beyond his years, tears streamed down his face: "From now on, the food, clothing, shelter, and transportation of these hundred demon employees on our live streaming platform will all depend on you."
"...What ethnic group?" After a brief silence, Zhang Mo looked at him with a puzzled expression, her first thought being, "Is this one among the fifty-six ethnic groups?"
Then came a shower of tears, like pearls falling onto a jade plate. She watched as each tear that fell from Uncle Jiang's eyes turned into a pearl. Each one was round and full, shimmering with a soft luster, clearly not an ordinary pearl.
Zhang Mo: "...?"
The most outrageous thing is that after shedding tears, the originally pale and emaciated old man suddenly turned into a fair-skinned, slender, and handsome young man with blond hair and blue eyes.
Zhang Mo: "???!"
Now sporting the stunningly handsome face of an 18-year-old, Uncle Jiang said, "Ah, don't you know your father isn't human?"
Zhang Mo wondered if she was still dreaming, until a sharp pain suddenly shot through her right index finger!
Then she saw an even more fantastical scene.
The round, red, wooden official seal suddenly seemed to grow a mouth, splitting open a crack and revealing two small, snow-white fangs that bit her finger...
Zhang Mo disregarded all notions of respecting the elderly and caring for the young, grabbed the official seal with her left hand, and smashed it over Uncle Jiang's head—
"What kind of monster is this?!"
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