Who doesn't know that Young Master Cao cares the most about saving face

After spending some intimate time at home with Tang Xin, the sisters gradually started returning one after another.

Some things don’t need to be spelled out too clearly.

Overexplaining would just come off as pretentious.

So they simply avoided the topic altogether, continuing their cozy little lives as usual.

...

Before they knew it, over a month had passed.

The World Cup had crowned its champion.

To everyone’s surprise… John didn’t win.

This outcome left Cao Cheng stunned for… a whole second.

But then he shrugged it off.

This made perfect sense, really.

With such low odds and so many people betting on him, the chances of the favorite falling short skyrocketed.

There might’ve even been some behind-the-scenes match-fixing by the bookies.

Though the team had over twenty players, plus substitutes bringing it to around thirty, in competitive sports like this, bribing just one or two key players could easily sway the outcome of a match.

Of course,

putting aside the possibility of match-fixing,

when the whole world was chanting about John’s inevitable victory, the entire team—players and coaches alike—would’ve been affected psychologically.

And these mental shifts could cut both ways.

Take the infamous Pele, for example, football’s most notorious jinx.

Every time he predicted a World Cup outcome, the opposite happened.

This was largely due to the same phenomenon.

Actually,

it’s not just football.

Even in the stock market, going into too much detail can alter the eventual outcome.

...

Naturally, this upset result invited a wave of mockery from online trolls directed at Young Master Cao.

Among these haters were not just pure anti-fans but also plenty of sore losers who’d bet and lost money.

Did Cao Cheng have any patience for their tantrums?

Not a chance.

Young Master Cao fired back immediately: “Just because I said John would win, you took it as gospel? Use your brains, idiots! How much did you lose? Serves you right! Not like I care—I only lost a tiny bit, consider it my donation to the sports lottery. Hahahaha…”

“……”

“……”

The barrage of sarcasm left the trolls speechless.

What followed was an even fiercer storm of curses.

But soon enough, accounts were banned, comments deleted, and some even got arrested, landing a few days in jail.

Cao Cheng chimed in again: “Insults are illegal, you bunch of legally illiterate morons. Hahahaha…”

This was just rubbing salt in the wound.

Still,

it was wildly entertaining.

Spectators flocked to the drama.

On closer inspection, those who got arrested were the ones who crossed the line with their insults.

Calling Young Master Cao a dog? He wouldn’t even bother reporting it.

But if the “your mom” jokes got too excessive? That’s where the line was drawn.

...

...

Time flew by.

Days passed uneventfully, emotions simmered, and every now and then, he’d borrow some luck from the sisters for a round of prize draws.

Plenty of good stuff came his way.

Before they knew it, two years had slipped by.

Cao Cheng had mostly faded from the spotlight, occasionally dropping a post but nowhere near as active as before.

Even his fans had matured…

Who had the time or energy to obsess over an idol 24/7?

Especially when said idol barely showed up, only posting sporadically. Yet this loose, low-maintenance fan-idol dynamic somehow became one of the longest-lasting in the industry.

The global political climate grew tense.

But it wasn’t too bad…

At least for Young Master Cao, who’d prepared in advance, the impact was minimal.

Whether the country was at war or not, some businesses would keep running regardless…

After all, a functioning wartime economy was a measure of a nation’s war potential.

Well…

No need to dwell on that.

Not exactly Young Master Cao’s department.

...

Another year passed.

Then, a piece of news sent shockwaves across the globe.

The space elevator project was officially launched.

This wasn’t an announcement from any government but from a private company.

Normally, such claims from a random firm would’ve been dismissed as clickbait or marketing fluff.

But this wasn’t just any company.

Its name? Miracle Aerospace!

Yep.

Young Master Cao’s brainchild.

And it wasn’t just Miracle’s solo announcement—several nations soon followed up with joint cooperation statements.

After all, a space elevator couldn’t exactly be built within domestic borders.

It’d have to be in international waters or another country entirely.

...

“Holy crap, am I seeing this right? A space elevator? Like, the sci-fi kind?”

“This has to be fake. Is current tech even capable of this?”

“I thought it was unrealistic in movies, and now they’re trying it IRL? No way.”

“Can someone confirm if this is legit? Is Miracle Aerospace part of the Miracle Group?”

“Did some digging—the company’s registered in Zhonghai, and the address matches Miracle Eco-Park…”

“No freaking way. They’re actually serious?”

This was the reputation Young Master Cao had built.

Since his debut, if nothing else, his word carried weight.

Rarely did he make promises he didn’t keep.

Plus,

many had unwavering faith in the Miracle Group.

That’s the power of credibility.

...

Online, short videos, influencers, and content creators jumped on the hype train.

Everyone started explaining what a space elevator was.

Of course,

most were just bandwagoning, regurgitating sci-fi movie tropes without real substance—just hyping up the “this is insane” factor for views.

Truthfully,

that’s the essence of short-form content.

The actual subject, product, or quality hardly matters. What counts is whether a creator understands how to manipulate audience emotions—master that, and fame is just a step away.

Maybe even a single breakthrough, like piercing a thin veil.

Amid the sea of clout-chasers, a few legitimately knowledgeable creators stood out.

“I just finished reading Miracle’s official announcement and technical details. Gotta say, this isn’t some vague PR fluff—it’s incredibly thorough…”

“Miracle Group has developed a cable material with sufficient tensile strength, exceeding 100 GPa…”

“The proposed location is along the equator, in international waters…”

“Budget estimates are outlined too, roughly 10 trillion yuan…”

“Timeline projects 15 years for construction…”

“Most optimistic estimate: completion by 2045, followed by a 5-year trial phase, with full operational deployment before 2050…”

“I also found accompanying research papers published by Miracle Group…”

The more analytical breakdowns convinced many who didn’t fully grasp the tech but trusted the brand.

After all, Miracle Group’s track record in cutting-edge tech—be it gaming headsets, biotech, or cosmetics—was globally top-tier.

If Miracle claimed something was possible,

few other companies could realistically challenge it.

Besides,

Miracle Group wasn’t publicly traded. They had no need for empty hype.

If they couldn’t pull off a space elevator, why announce it at all?

Staying quiet would’ve spared them any backlash.

So,

if they went public with this, they must’ve had confidence in its feasibility.

Otherwise, it’d be a massive self-own.

And everyone knows how much Young Master Cao values his pride.