Baiyue Company Goes Public!

Just as the players had expected, they found four wounded straggler mutants in the residential quarters of Sandbar Island. Three were hiding in the sewers, while another had holed up in the hospital morgue. The habits they had developed on Ten Peaks Mountain made them prone to slinking into dark, damp corners. With all hidden threats cleared away, the residents of Sandbar Island finally began trickling back to their homes on the second day after the naval battle. Construction of submarine power cables and freshwater transmission pipelines to Sandbar Island would commence as soon as possible, with completion anticipated between late August and early September. After taking in the technicians and expertise from Shelter 70, Baiyue Company's undersea construction capabilities had advanced by leaps and bounds. From "Crab" underwater engineering armor to "Electric Ray" underwater self-welding drone boats, and on to modular construction solutions for deep-sea environments, both "hardware" and "software" had undergone a dramatic leap. Naturally, this was largely thanks to Baiyue Company's own solid foundation. With Daybreak City and Boulder City—two major industrial zones—serving as staunch backbones, engineering technologies unearthed by the Scientific Expedition from a series of ruins including Vault 100, and, most crucially, a powerful Alliance standing behind them, Shelter 70's technicians alone could never have achieved such astonishing construction speed. Besides Sandbar Island, the Southern Four Islands of the Southern Sea and Coral City, located near the median line, had all been connected to Port French Fries's freshwater supply network and power grid. Although Coral City had only restarted twenty percent of its facilities due to high electricity consumption, it was more than sufficient for the Conch submersible carrier plan. Four days after the naval battle, a twin-engine Viper transport plane touched down on the tarmac of Anle Island, and a group of twenty players stepped out of the cabin. All of them were exceptional pilots who had not only weathered countless trials of actual combat, but had also received "Ace Pilot" certificates issued by Brother Mosquito himself! Soon, they would head aboard the Conch to conduct tests on the Alliance's new submersible carrier aircraft. Not far from the tarmac. Commander Li Minghui of the South Sea Alliance's Anle Island Fleet gazed enviously at the Viper transport, remarking to Fang Chang, who stood beside him: "You folks certainly have a wide variety of aircraft." Fang Chang smiled faintly. "That's a masterpiece of Boulder Arms. It existed even before the Alliance was born." "It looks quite a bit smaller than that 'Overlord.'" "After all, before this, the nobles of Boulder City's Inner City focused only on regional affairs and themselves. The residents there solely served the Inner City aristocracy, and the Viper transport fully satisfied their short-distance 'travel needs.'" Li Minghui raised his eyebrows with interest and looked at Fang Chang. "And now?" Fang Chang continued, "Today's Boulder City has no Inner City. They have their own city hall, castellan, and court. Residents only need to fulfill their duties as Boulder City survivors and Alliance citizens—such as obeying laws that apply to everyone equally." Li Minghui nodded thoughtfully, then asked another question. "What about the other settlements? Are they the same?" Fang Chang smiled faintly. "Of course not. Singularity City, for instance, has a clear class hierarchy and promotion system, though that happens to be what the local survivors desired. Our Manager respects their choice, merely stripping them of the freedom to traffic other people in accordance with the Alliance Constitution. As for the rest, no major changes were made; he even generously provided them with an absolutely impartial AI supervisor." Li Minghui nodded approvingly, voicing his agreement. "Tailoring policies to local conditions. I think he did the right thing... We ought to consider what the survivors themselves think." "I feel the same. After all, in my view, suddenly granting equality to a bunch of folks who misunderstand equality as 'the right to do whatever they please' is foolish and absurd. They feel awkward, we feel uncomfortable, and in the end, it achieves nothing except tarnishing the very concept of equality. The Manager said from the start that we can't bring everyone into the new world; some are destined to live at their own pace." Seeing the flicker in Li Minghui's eyes, Fang Chang felt a slight stir within and said with a smile, "If the survivors of the South Sea Alliance support you to become their president, our Manager will naturally acknowledge you as well." Li Minghui froze for a second, then chuckled with feigned nonchalance. "Come on, I've never even thought of that... Even if they all backed me, they'd still have to ask my opinion. Don't forget, I'm just one in a million in the South Sea Alliance. They can forget about pushing me to the front without my consent—not a chance!" Fang Chang gave a noncommittal smile and said nothing more, merely turning his gaze toward the distant submersible carrier. "I hope everything goes smoothly. It would be great if this war could end a little sooner." A person's true thoughts were veiled by flesh and bone, and the wasteland was full of scoundrels who did evil deeds with a clear conscience. Fang Chang was no fresh-faced student who hadn't stepped out into society, like Ye Shi, who would spend half a day turning someone's words over in his head to figure out whether they were good or bad. He didn't care what this fellow said, and presumably, neither would the Manager. Yet both of them would be watching—watching what he actually did. Li Minghui also looked toward the submersible carrier. After a long while, he sighed softly and echoed insincerely, "Yeah..." If only it could end sooner. Though ending later might be even better... ... Wasteland Online Forum. Before testing of the new equipment had even concluded, half of the ace pilots were already online. "This new bird is fucking insane!" "Truth be told, absolutely. It highlights steady, accurate, and ruthless. Of course, I'm not talking about the plane—I'm talking about the autocannon." "If only we could take out insurance on it." "+1." The thread quickly racked up dozens of replies, leaving the onlookers tingling with curiosity. Finally, unable to hold back, someone asked below: "Big bosses, any pictures or videos? No other intention, just curious what the plane actually looks like." "Mainly never seen it before, pure curiosity." Seeing someone ask, an insider quickly popped up to reply: "Didn't take a camera up." "Classified." "Holy shit! Even this is classified?! Can secrets even be leaked on a forum?" "What's the rush? There'll be a promo video released the day we launch the landing operation, and you'll see it naturally. (Funny face)" "+1." "@#%&!" "..." Irena: "Is it just my imagination, or do I remember there being only twenty pilots? (Funny face)" Ye Shi: "Good grief, how many armchair pilots does that make?" ... Days slipped by, and early August swiftly turned to the end of the month. Using a methodical offensive strategy, the joint forces dispatched by the Slime Mold Community to Haiya Province had pushed the front line from north of Laishan City to its southern outskirts. Although no survivors were found, soil purification in the area had already reached seventy percent. In addition, purification efforts across Weifu Wasteland continued apace. Drawn by the Alliance's order, more and more survivors from southern Jinchuan Province settled near the Weifu Military Base, and the population of the Weifu City settlement officially breached the fifty thousand mark, forging toward one hundred thousand. While progress on the northern front was astonishing, the southern front was by no means lagging behind. Alliance missile launchers and radar had been successfully deployed on Sandbar Island, and the Conch submersible carrier was quietly completed, entering secret service in the Alliance Navy. All the chess pieces were in place; now they only awaited a suitable opportunity. According to news released by the Survivor Daily, the Alliance and its allies in the Southern Sea were planning a decisive battle against the Zhalas authorities, and time and space were rapidly running out for the latter... Apart from progress on the front lines, two major events had recently occurred in the Alliance. The first was the official signing of a ceasefire agreement between the Alliance and the Xilan Empire. The Empire was to pay the Alliance a total of 500 million silver coins in reparations, immediately cease its suspension of transport to Port Golden Gallon, and restore normal shipping and trade along the Yongliu River. However, considering the Empire lacked sufficient silver coin foreign exchange reserves, the reparations would be secured by foreign trade tariffs, collected on its behalf by an Alliance-commissioned agency, which would deduct the indemnity installments proportionally and disburse the remainder to the Empire. The collected portions mainly covered goods traveling from Port Golden Gallon to Bolo Province, with tariffs on different goods to be jointly discussed and finalized in separate agreements. In other words, the Empire's emperor wouldn't need to take this reparation money out of his treasury, and could even collect money from the Alliance. Furthermore, considering that the variety of goods traded at Port Golden Gallon was far broader than before, they might well end up making even more. Thus, upon hearing this "improved proposal," Duke Garava agreed without hesitation. As for the ownership of Port Golden Gallon, the Alliance was never going to let the Empire take it back to make a mess of things, and Duke Garava obviously didn't expect to reclaim it through mere words alone, so he proposed shelving disputes and maintaining the status quo. Namely, the Alliance would not turn Port Golden Gallon into its seventh or eighth settlement, while the Empire would neither demand it back nor waive the right to demand it back in the future. Yet the Alliance had never intended to absorb Port Golden Gallon into its own territory to begin with—doing so aligned neither with the Alliance's interests nor its tenets—so Alliance Foreign Minister Cheng Yan agreed. Once the ceasefire agreement took effect, Port Golden Gallon would officially release all prisoners of war. In addition, the Empire received compensation totaling 150 million dinars. This compensation was not part of the ceasefire agreement, however, but derived from another agreement—the pension bill recently passed at the Slime Mold Community conference. This compensation came mainly from the Slime Mold Community, funded by military expenditures contributed jointly by its member parties to compensate soldiers who "fought for the destiny of mankind and were killed or disabled as a result." Recipients could decide how to use the compensation based on their circumstances, but they had to guarantee that at least thirty percent of the funds would be spent directly or indirectly on the individuals. Business was business: no matter how lowly the rights and status of the Rat Clan were in Bolo Province, they were recognized by the Slime Mold Community as people possessing "unity of natural and social personhood," and they hailed from a province less affected by slime mold, so they were entitled to full compensation. As for why the compensation was in dinars rather than silver coins—which had the most currency swap agreements—it was primarily at the insistence of Duke Garava. Though Chu Guang found it curious, he figured the Empire was, after all, a good friend of the Wilantes, so he didn't press the matter and readily agreed. What he didn't realize was that Duke Garava hadn't been thinking along those lines at all; the duke was simply terrified that if the Slime Mold Community provided silver coins, the Alliance would intercept and withhold the money. Had Chu Guang known, he surely would have burst into laughter at such an adorable thought. Additionally, the vault of the Port Golden Gallon Bank, holding wealth predominantly amassed from slave trafficking, would not be returned to the Empire. Instead, it would belong to the local residents of Port Golden Gallon to fund local development, under the administration of the reorganized Port Golden Gallon Bank. Having already consulted His Majesty on this point, Duke Garava raised no objections, merely proposing a supplementary clause to establish mutual embassies, which Alliance Foreign Minister Cheng Yan cheerfully accepted. In short, with the formal signing of the ceasefire agreement, the Alliance's military operations in Port Golden Gallon officially drew to a close. While Port Golden Gallon still faced problems today—such as low laborer wages, rampant smuggling, and rising crime driven by an influx of migrants—it was incomparably better than the old settlement where people either ate dirt or cannibalized one another. Problems had to be solved one by one, and issues born of development required developmental solutions. The local survivors couldn't expect players to solve every single problem, not to mention that the Alliance players had already left them with fine tools and methods. Such as a representative council selected from the citizenry, as well as courts and police departments with separated enforcement and judicial powers. As for the second event, it was the founding of the Dawn City Stock Exchange and the public listing of Baiyue Company. After more than a month of audits and investigations, the Alliance Bank and the Department of Economy approved Baiyue Company's listing plan. For this listing, economics experts from Camp 101 designed the regulatory and trading systems, while an IPO consulting firm from Ideal City provided listing guidance for Baiyue Company. According to the listing plan approved by Baiyue Company's board of directors, the initial public offering consisted of 50 million shares at an issuance price of 10 silver coins per share, representing 8 percent of total equity, with a pledge to allocate no less than 10 percent of annual profits for dividends. All proceeds raised would go toward expanding Baiyue Company's core business, striving to make the company bigger and stronger. Based on the issuance price, Baiyue Company's total valuation reached an astonishing 6.25 billion! This figure exceeded the Alliance's entire fiscal expenditure from the previous year! Yet anyone with knowledge of Baiyue Company's growth understood that this valuation was still an understatement. Just taking its business in Port Golden Gallon, Baiyue Province, calculating by a most conservative price-to-earnings ratio of 20, it was worth well over 6 billion silver coins; an issue price of 40 silver coins would have been conservative. The reason it was issued at a relatively low price was, to an extent, to share the dividends of development with the Alliance's residents. After all, without Alliance workers toiling away in factories to generate value, the Alliance could never have become an economic miracle on the wasteland, let alone incubating pioneer settlements like Port French Fries with surplus resources. The best way to repay these people was simply to hand them money. Of these 50 million shares, 30 million non-tradable shares were subscribed in part by Alliance social insurances (pensions, unemployment insurance, etc.) and in part bought by public-sector insurances (railway insurance, property insurance, etc.), with low- and middle-income residents who paid social insurance and utilized public services the most being the primary beneficiaries. As for the remaining 20 million shares, they were issued as tradable shares to the Alliance's middle- and high-income residents. Anyone holding an Alliance identity card and providing proof of domestic bank deposits or transaction records could open an account at the stock exchange, with individual subscriptions capped at 100,000 shares, while buying and selling on the secondary market remained unrestricted. Players could likewise trade Baiyue Company stock, though for now only through the Silver Exchange, where trading volumes were unrestricted; just like other ongoing equity transactions, only large-scale transfers were subject to scrutiny. This was done partly because the Silver Exchange's trading mechanism was relatively mature, and partly because players' mission revenues were already an order of magnitude higher than an average NPC's; there was no need to compete with NPCs for that modest dividend when they could just play among themselves behind closed doors. Besides, given NPC savings, it would be difficult for them to provide liquidity for players looking to cash out. The Silver Exchange, however, had no such issue: a crowd of "mysterious clients" was eagerly waiting there, ready at any moment to shell out real-world currency to buy. To accommodate most people's schedules, the issuance date was specifically set on a day off. Moreover, banks across all Alliance settlements opened windows to handle account registrations, yet on the day itself, massive lines still snaked outside the Dawn City Stock Exchange, nearly paralyzing traffic on adjacent streets. Although most Dawn City residents' impression of Baiyue Company remained stuck on the seafood market in the northern outskirts and they knew little of its specific operations, the headline in the Goblin Observer ignited a fire in everyone's hearts: [Subscribing to Baiyue Company stock is supporting the Alliance's overseas expansion!] The moment people saw those words, they became pumped with adrenaline. Supporting the Alliance's overseas expansion—wasn't that offering loyalty to the Manager? Although the Manager had never said as much, nothing could stop young men from filling in the blanks themselves. Naturally, the most critical factor was that they had money in their pockets. Ever since Boulder City joined the Alliance, the Alliance had absorbed not only Boulder City's technology, but also Awakened Boer and the Workers' Association. Merchants had their Merchant Guild, workers had their own organization, and under the mutual check and balance of these two forces, the median hourly wage in most factories had risen from 5 silver coins before Boulder City joined to 8 today. At an issuance price of 10 silver coins, as long as one wasn't a drunkard squandering all income on alcohol, even someone washing dishes in a tavern could afford 100 shares. Most of those opening accounts hadn't even thought about making money from this thing; they were driven purely by the simple desire to contribute their strength to the Manager. A thousand silver coins could buy five assault rifles. A single Boulder City had boosted their hourly wage by sixty percent. If donating five guns could help the Alliance liberate a few more "Boulder Cities," losing all one thousand silver coins wouldn't matter in the least! "...Are these people crazy?!" Watching the sea of people packing the stock exchange, Niyang, who had slipped out from Embassy Street to join the spectacle, widened his eyes in astonishment, looking as if he had just seen a sea monster in the Bolo Sea. A security guard maintaining order glanced at him, thought his face didn't look local, and said politely, "Hello, sir. Equity trading requires an original Alliance identity card... May I take a look at yours?" Previously, many wastelander scavengers had tried sneaking into the queue, only to cause scenes—throwing tantrums, rolling on the ground, or picking fights—when they found out they couldn't register. His superior had therefore instructed him to politely escort anyone unqualified out of line so as not to waste everyone's time. He didn't suspect this fellow had forgotten his ID; he suspected this fellow didn't have one at all. To his surprise, the man darted a furtive glance left and right as if confirming something, then puffed out his chest, grandly produced an ID card from his robes, and handed it over, saying with utmost courtesy, "Of course. Here is my identification, an authentic, genuine identity card... cough, I mean, it could never be fake. Would you like to enter my ID number into the system to verify it, sir?" The guard was momentarily taken aback—partly by how compliant and cooperative the man was, and partly because he actually possessed one. Ever since the founding of the Slime Mold Community, the threshold for obtaining an identity card had risen from three months to a full year, requiring tax records, proof of employment, and a slew of complex procedures. Otherwise, even those admitted through the Refugee Home could only obtain residency status as "monitored individuals." Was he from that batch of refugees from the Battle of Sunset? Giving him an odd look, the guard nodded and handed the card back. "No need for that; a quick look is plenty. The clerks inside will verify its authenticity later. Also... thank you for your cooperation, and have a pleasant day." "And have a pleasant day to you as well." Niyang offered a polite bow—even more courteous than when greeting Duke Garava—his face beaming with a radiant smile. From the very first day he arrived in Dawn City, he had looked into how to get an Alliance identity card. Back then, the requirements weren't nearly as steep as they were now; one only needed to be physically in Dawn City and hold a job for at least 120 hours a month. He had found a tavern run by wastelanders, paid the proprietor a sum of money, and easily resolved the issue. Although Duke Garava had a foul temper, as long as one buttered him up properly, he was remarkably generous. Naturally, the Alliance had no shortage of clever minds, especially with the Moon Clan girls from Port French Fries assisting them, so the loophole of "paying to work" had long been plugged and the criteria significantly tightened. However, laws were not retroactive, meaning it did not affect the "Dawn City Resident" status already in his grasp. Back then, he had applied for the ID purely out of admiration for that noble lord, never imagining that his decision would yield such a tremendous windfall today. Granted, Baiyue Company had given his emperor a sound thrashing, but what did that matter? He loathed the thousand pillars of the City of a Thousand Pillars to his bones; he wished Baiyue Company would take another step forward and smash every single pillar there to pieces. Even if they only smashed the Rat Clan's pillar! The residents of Dawn City didn't care if they lost money. How fortuitous—he felt exactly the same way, perhaps even more radical: far too few rats had died on Ten Peaks Mountain! Of course. Having diligently read every issue of the Survivor Daily, he knew full well that this was actually a benefit bestowed by the Manager upon the people. Losing money was practically impossible; it was practically free money. The line crept forward slowly. After waiting in line for a full two hours, Niyang finally caught sight of the doors to the stock exchange, his heart pounding with excitement as the queue advanced. Although he had his ID checked three times by three different security guards over those two hours, his spirits weren't dampened in the slightest, nor did he feel discriminated against. Compared to the humiliations he had suffered in White Elephant City and at Duke Garava's hands, this slight inconvenience was utterly negligible. In fact, they ought to check even more strictly to keep other rats from sneaking in and dirtying the cream he had worked so hard to taste even a smidgen of with their filthy paws. The line finally reached its end. The cool air conditioning inside the hall dissipated some of the heat stifling his chest. Guided by the staff, he swiftly received his queue number and application forms, hurrying eagerly to the counter the moment his number was called. The clerk assisting him was a beautiful Alliance girl. Her face was as delicate as a pebble on a beach, her eyes bright and enchanting, shimmering as if reflecting water. Compared to her, Duke Garava's wife and mistresses looked like cows in a shack! He admitted he might be looking through rose-tinted glasses, and Alliance cosmetics did have the magic touch of turning plainness into beauty, but he swore he was not lying. In the Alliance, even ordinary people shone with such brilliance! Feeling somewhat uncomfortable under his burning gaze, the young woman coughed lightly and said in a businesslike tone, "Please present your identification." "Niyang, Alliance citizen." Niyang promptly produced the well-worn card from his hand, beaming at her with an eager smile. She had to face at least a thousand such smiles a day, yet she still returned a professional smile, verified his credentials, and took the completed form from his hands. With that solicitous, almost fervent demeanor, he was probably a wastelander who had joined the Alliance not long ago, she thought to herself. With that thought, she glanced down at the form. Yet upon seeing the number written there, a glimmer of shock surfaced in her eyes, and her glossy lips parted in involuntary surprise. "...Ninety thousand shares?!" That was practically the ceiling for an individual purchase! How had this fellow earned so much money? It wasn't that she was snobbish—she treated all customers equally—it was just that the contrast this customer presented was too jarring, like a beggar pulling a thick stack of banknotes from his pocket. It was hard not to wonder where his money had come from. Noticing the astonishment in the beauty's eyes, Niyang smiled modestly, though he couldn't hide the pride in his gaze. "I've made a little bit of money through my trade—completely legal business, feel free to investigate however you like... But once you've finished checking, please grant me this opportunity. I am an Alliance citizen too, and I want to put this money toward investing in a greater cause." Reigning in the surprise on her face, the female clerk looked at him and said, "As part of my duties, I must clarify upfront that Baiyue Company does not run some 'great cause.' It is merely a for-profit enterprise, fundamentally different from aid institutions like the Refugee Home. "We need you to clearly recognize that this is an investment. It is neither a donation nor a gamble. Furthermore, every investment carries risk; you must take responsibility for your choices and swear that you fully understand what you are doing." "How many fingers do I need to hold up?" Niyang chuckled, raising his right hand above his head. "No need," she said, pulling two contracts from a drawer. "You must carefully read this Equity Subscription Agreement and Risk Disclosure Statement, and sign at the bottom." Taking the documents and pen, Niyang signed his name on both agreements without even glancing at them, then gently set the pen down. "I know very well this isn't some great cause, and I know the esteemed Manager doesn't lack this pocket change of mine. But I still hope they can move faster—just a little faster... Please understand the tiny wish of a rat. My strength is too minuscule, so minuscule that my master doesn't even bother looking at me, convinced I'm so weak I don't even have the standing to betray him... And indeed I don't, nor do I have that qualification; my business could never survive without his backing." Looking at the bewildered clerk, Niyang gave a slight imperial court bow. "Have a pleasant day, beautiful lady. In Bolo Province, girls your age are mere commodities... Of course, as livestock, so am I." Watching the fellow turn and walk out the door after finishing the paperwork, the girl behind the counter blinked in utter bewilderment and whispered to an older colleague beside her: He was her senior at work, someone she trusted deeply. "Is Bolo Province really that bad?" Even as she spoke, her hands didn't idle; she tapped her tablet to call the next number. Her colleague shook his head, tossed back a noncommittal quip, and turned to his next task. "Who knows how much of what comes out of a wastelander's mouth is true? Maybe he was just trying to hit on you. From the look of him, he's from Port French Fries—I heard people over there dream day and night of landing a partner from Dawn City... Sigh, and Port French Fries is already far enough as it is." As for Bolo Province, it was simply far too distant—so distant that he had zero interest in learning about it, having only tried its regional dishes at a restaurant once out of sheer curiosity. Yet those "pastes" were really nothing special; he couldn't even tell the difference between one mush and another, paling in comparison to the dazzling array of delicacies in the Alliance. Perhaps Baiyue Company truly had changed people's lives over there—teaching them to eat with utensils, to eat at tables, to the point where those people dared to hope for even more. But that was their business. He was merely a lowly clerk in Dawn City; he didn't care about such things. By comparison, what mattered to him was the esteemed Mr. Manager and the interests of the Alliance—at the very least, that was the only way to justify his wage of 8 silver coins an hour. Praise the Manager! His loyalty to that noble gentleman was eternal; that gentleman could have easily pocketed all the wealth for himself, leaving the folks in line to watch on in envy. He heard survivors in Golden Gallon earned only a tenth of his hourly wage, and before that, it had been even less. He truly wondered how they had managed to survive.