Truth be told, Zhou Xi almost wanted to assign Su Wei some household retainers. But retainers weren’t like bodyguards—their bond with the master meant shared fate: rising and falling together. In ancient times, they’d follow their lord even into rebellion, braving blades or fire without hesitation.

Yet Su Wei’s current status, experience, and credentials simply couldn’t command that loyalty. In this modern era where retainers had nearly vanished, finding suitable ones was near impossible. Zhou Xi dropped the idea. After dinner, she took Su Wei to buy a car. With bodyguards now, leisure outings were fine—but work? Inconvenient. A car for the guards to drive made sense.

In her past life, Su Wei knew cars well. Even if she’d never ridden in a Bugatti Veyron or Rolls-Royce, she recognized the names. Familiar brands like Volkswagen or BMW existed here too—but the automobile’s inventor wasn’t Karl Friedrich Benz. It was Jie Jun of Grand Zhou. And the world’s most prestigious automaker? Grand Zhou’s Yasheng.

Exclusive to the imperial family since inception, Yasheng remained a global luxury icon. Even its cheapest model cost 800,000 Zhou yuan.

At the Yasheng flagship store: no nonsense, no arrogant displays or dramatic confrontations. Su Wei instantly spotted a sleek sports car. Not Zhou Xi’s level, but damn cool. The vibrant orange paint? Eye-catching. Flashy colors were the whole point of a sports car—why else buy one?

“How soon can I take delivery?”

Su Wei, now wealthy beyond measure, hadn’t asked prices in ages. The seasoned salesperson smiled calmly.

“Order today, seven days for delivery—we handle tinting, discreet dash cam install, registration. Need it faster? Temporary permit lets you pick up tomorrow.”

“No rush.” Su Wei waved a hand, about to swipe her card—when Zhou Xi chimed in, “How about a business sedan too? Like the Supreme?”

“Supreme?”

Su Wei followed her gaze. A sedan stood distant on display—reminiscent of the Phantom from her past life, though not particularly handsome. *Typical for business sedans*, she thought. If others knew her mind, they’d choke. This was a car many dreamed of riding in *at their own weddings*—and she found it lacking.

Spotting dual-purchase potential, the salesperson lit up, launching into praise: “Our Yasheng Supreme is this year’s—”

“Skip the pitch. We’ll take both.”

“Excellent! This way, please.”

Led to a private lounge, tea and coffee served, the salesperson dashed off. Minutes later, he returned slightly flustered, contracts in hand.

“The Solar Crown: 3.2 million Zhou yuan. The Supreme: 4 million. After manager approval, we deduct 200,000—you pay 7 million total. Plus, lifetime Yasheng membership: complimentary maintenance for life, six years full-coverage insurance, window tint included. License plates? We’ll apply per your request.”

Su Wei nodded, skimmed the contracts, pen ready—when Zhou Xi added softly, “For plates, Weiwei, I’ll gift you two special ones.”

“Sure.”

With two dividends totaling ~80 million Zhou yuan, 7 million was trivial. She swiped, left. Mu Xun and Jing Yu would collect the cars later. But parking? No way she’d leave them under the dorm like Zhou Xi’s—on public display.

“I’ll gift you a house,” Zhou Xi said unexpectedly. “You’re not a Grand Zhou citizen, haven’t worked six years here—you can’t buy property. So I’ll give you one.”

“Nah,” Su Wei hesitated. “Your places are too huge—I’d get lost. Just register it under your name for now.”

“Fine.”

They hurried to a hillside villa complex in Zhaoge, snapping up a 12-million-Zhou-yuan villa. Maybe it was a Huaxia mindset: no home, no true belonging. She might never live there; Grand Zhou’s market wouldn’t skyrocket its value. But if bankruptcy ever came? Sell it. Survival secured.

Cars and house bought, the day wound down. Zhou Xi and Su Wei returned to campus; the bodyguards headed home. En route, Zhou Xi casually asked:

“Interested in charity?”

“Charity?”

Su Wei wasn’t opposed. In her past life, she’d donate 50 or 100 online. Now with means, giving back felt right.

“Charity does good *and* builds credibility. Fastest path to peer acceptance. Wins government goodwill. Even offsets taxes.”

“I’ll consider it.”

She was leaning in—but wary. True charity wasn’t just building a school in a poor village. Construction cost? Maybe a few hundred thousand. But then: teacher salaries, maintenance, student meals… endless upkeep. News stories surfaced often—“Hope Primary Schools” turned pigsties by villagers.

Did they not want education? Of course they did. But after building it… no teachers came. however noble the profession, teachers still need to eat.

After ten minutes of silence, Su Wei spoke slowly:

“I’ll establish a charitable foundation.”