Wang Fengxi, the group president, has been building the bridge for 23 years.
On the eve of the completion of the Qingchuan Bay Cross-sea Bridge, she fell down on the last drawing. The bridge stretched out from both sides at the same time, just short of being able to grasp it.
When she opened her eyes again, she became Wang Xifeng.
Ning Guofu, the associate minister, had just finished his official duties. He suffered a miscarriage and died in a coma for three days. Manfu's eyes were fixed on the space she had vacated, and her aunt came to collect the cards with a smile.
She held up her hands and said, "I just want to take a rest."
She doesn't want housekeeping rights. In her previous life, she had managed a group of 30,000 people. What she wants in this life is a world-wide account that no one can settle.
There are rooms in the sea of consciousness: chemical industry, metallurgy, civil engineering, accounting, and finance. The warehouse is full of knowledge, but the materials are zero. The recipes are written on paper, the oil must be boiled by oneself, the kiln must be built by oneself, and the accounts must be kept by oneself. She started with two wastes: a basin of lard base and a basket of plant ashes.
A piece of soap can wash out the capital's wealth; a workshop can clear up the dead accounts of two governments. Later, silk and satin shops, banks, banknotes, and Fengji's trade names were transferred from north to south, all the way to becoming the first empress merchant in the world.
In the government's accounts, the hole of seven thousand taels is just an appetizer; in the capital's accounts, those who received kickbacks and empty wages are collected one by one; the world's accounts have just turned to the first page.
In the Grand View Garden, some people joined in, some invested, and some watched the show in the audience.
The agency's calculations were too clever, but Qingqing's life was calculated instead - that was Wang Xifeng in the original work, not Wang Fengxi.
In this life, she still likes to calculate. Calculating with others does not count fate, nor does it count cruelty.
Many years later, a bridge never seen before was built in Dagan. On the day they closed, she stood in the center of the bridge and thought of the hand she had not held in her previous life.
This time, the bridge closed.
