"It takes more than guts and courage to make an investment succeed. Your best friend is still too young."
Conrad Goodman adopted a condescending tone, playing the part of the CEO of a publicly traded company. "It’s good for someone so young to have an entrepreneurial mindset, but there has to be a limit to everything. Even if her family is wealthy, she can’t just throw money around blindly."
He smiled at his daughter and asked, "Does she know anything about artificial intelligence? Is she aware of the current state of AI development in the country? If she’s just recklessly throwing money at something she doesn’t understand, that’s just brute force. She might get lucky, but you can’t rely on luck to build success."
"Dad, I’m noticing you’re getting really preachy!"
Estelle frowned and retorted, "Then let me ask you, when the Goodman Group first got into AI, was it because you understood it? You probably still don’t know the first thing about it, do you? You only know business. In essence, Cecilia is no different from you!"
"How is that the same?" Conrad Goodman retorted, unconvinced. "The Goodman Group has a professional team of several hundred people. How can a few recent computer science grads from your university possibly compare?"
Estelle huffed and pouted. "Say what you will. But if Cecilia’s team actually develops industry-leading software, don’t you dare ask me to be your middleman and beg her to work with the Goodman Group."
With that, she put down her chopsticks and stood up. "I’m full. I’m going upstairs to pack my things."
Watching his daughter leave, Conrad Goodman just smiled indulgently and shook his head.
Mrs. Goodman added, "Our daughter has always been a bit headstrong, but she’s never argued with you so fiercely over someone before. It looks like she’s finally made a truly important friend."
Conrad Goodman nodded. "And it seems this friend is having quite a subtle influence on her. It’s good if it can temper her personality a bit. After all, our daughter is growing up. She can’t keep acting like a child."
At that, Mrs. Goodman shot him a look. "And whose fault is that? You’re the one who spoils her."
Conrad Goodman burst out laughing, not denying it at all.
Cecilia had been in high spirits last night and had a few too many drinks. This morning, she woke up with a splitting headache.
She remembered drinking quite a bit on the night she’d hired those male models, yet she’d felt fine the next day. She couldn’t help but wonder if the "Maotai" she’d had last night was counterfeit.
She forced herself out of bed to drink a glass of water, then sat on the living room sofa for a while until she started to feel a little better.
She picked up her phone to check her unread messages. Her younger brother had sent a few photos of their mother trying on a new Dance outfit in front of the mirror.
*Sis, your plan totally worked. Mom bought a bunch of new gear online. She goes to class every day, and she even practices in her room at night when she gets home.*
Cecilia smiled as she looked at the photos of her mother.
Just then, a message from Estelle came through. *Be at your door in half an hour. Hurry up and get ready.*
Cecilia replied with an "OK" emoji and dragged her groggy self into the bathroom to get ready.
Half an hour later, a brand-new Bentley was waiting right on time at the entrance to the villa.
Cecilia got in, greeted Mr. Jennings and Charles, who was in the passenger seat, then turned to Estelle beside her. "I think I might have had some counterfeit stuff last night. My head is splitting!"
"Huh?" Estelle studied her face and nodded. "You do look a little pale. Why don’t you just rest at home today and go to school tomorrow?"
Cecilia shook her head. "Lying down in the dorm is the same thing."
As the car pulled away, Estelle handed a bag to Cecilia. "Here are the shoes. When are you planning to give them to Yannick?"
"Today, probably. It would be weird to keep a pair of men’s sneakers in our dorm room."
Estelle nodded and muttered, "I don’t get why guys are so into sneakers. I’ve never seen Charles wear them. Oh, right, he doesn’t play sports."
"Charles, would you be happy if I got you sneakers?" she asked, suddenly leaning forward to look at him.

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