Chapter 288
Chapter 288
Three days later, the Miracle Logistics Officer meeting.
Oscar's holographic image looked deathly pale. He tremblingly opened a light screen displaying Rupert's new schedule.
Regenerated by Athena based on Diana's rehabilitation orders and daily rhythm.
"Everyone... this is Mr. Russell's preliminary arrangement for the next three months."
Isabella and Julian's projections simultaneously turned toward the schedule.
9:00 AM - 11:00 AM: Accompaniment Time (Location: Glass Conservatory. Activities: Reading, painting, or sitting quietly. All non-Level-1 emergency communications must be blocked during this period).
12:00 PM: Lunch (Menu must be confirmed by Ms. York one day in advance, ingredients sourced exclusively from Gaia's organic farm).
3:00 PM - 4:00 PM: Walk (Route planned in real-time based on daily weather data, ensuring wind speed below Level 2, humidity around 60%).
8:00 PM: Music Appreciation (Repertoire: Bach's Cello Suite No. 1. Performer: Rupert Russell).
...
Rupert's schedule was packed, but the subject of every item had become Diana.
As for the Russell Group, only at the very bottom of the schedule, a small notation: Group affairs, handled for thirty minutes after 10 PM daily.
Isabella whistled, breaking the deathly silence.
"So my job has evolved from 'making the Vionne librarian lose his underwear' to 'ensuring no butterfly wingbeats create breezes that might affect Ms. York's mood during their afternoon walks'?"
Julian spoke. "I've had Engineering install micro-climate regulation systems along both sides of Gaia's walking path. Air flow velocity in designated areas can be precisely controlled to within half a foot per second."
Oscar covered his face. "Then... what about me?"
He asked desperately. "For the past three months, I've coordinated airspace control across seventeen nations, acquired three century-old enterprises, and nearly wrestled with the Sanctumspire Dominion over the Pope's dedicated printing house. What am I supposed to do now?"
At the meeting's end, Rupert's encrypted communication connected, his voice as calm as ever.
"Julian, the Asian Ark data center acquisition—the board is deeply divided. You and Legal handle it with full authority."
"Isabella, the European energy market positioning—I'm authorizing you to activate Plan B. No need to wait for my approval."
"Oscar," Rupert paused, "those funds at Sterling Row want to meet with me. Tell them I'm unavailable."
Oscar instinctively asked, "Mr. Russell, what reason should we give for declining? Is it your health condition or—"
"Just say I'm busy."
From the other end came a stretch of tuneless cello notes.
"Busy practicing cello," Rupert said, then disconnected.
Oscar's holographic image froze in place. He looked at his two colleagues.
Isabella's mouth twitched, as though desperately suppressing laughter.
Julian expressionlessly typed a line into his memo: New force majeure factor added.
Diana's life entered an unprecedented state of "slowness."
She no longer threw herself into research or creative work through sleepless nights.
She developed a fixed routine, spending the most time each day in the glass conservatory.
She stopped painting complex scenes requiring precise composition and began painting more subtle subjects.
The growth texture of moss. The trajectory of a dewdrop rolling from a fern tip. The rainbow-like metallic sheen on a beetle's back.
Beside her easel, another chair always sat.
Rupert would sit there, sometimes reviewing reports Athena had compressed to the absolute extreme. More often, he simply watched her quietly.
He found that the focused Diana was no different from before.
But now, her world included him.
One afternoon, as she photographed a newly cultivated orchid that changed colors based on light intensity, Rupert's communicator rang.
Julian's voice carried a rare tremor.
"Mr. Russell, OmniCorp has launched a reverse takeover. Their capital flows are abnormal, with Middle Eastern sovereign funds involved. The board needs you to return immediately to take command. This concerns the Group's chip strategy for the next decade."
Rupert glanced at Diana.
She was focused on adjusting the lens focus, trying to capture the most subtle color gradations on the petals.
Sunlight fell on her, even her hair glowing softly.
"Let the board decide themselves," he said into the communicator.
"But Mr. Russell, your vote is critical."
"Then wait."
"Wait?"
Rupert's gaze settled on Diana's profile. The corners of her lips curved slightly upward, having captured a satisfying frame.
From the other end—prolonged silence.
Diana lowered the camera and turned to look at him.
"Important?" she asked.
"Not important." Rupert put away the communicator, his expression unchanged. "Just a business deal."
Diana didn't press further.
She picked up a botanical guide nearby, flipped to a certain page, and showed it to him.
"This one," she pointed to a small blue flower that grew in the high-altitude regions of the Frostspire Range. "I want to grow it."
Rupert glanced at it. The description beside the image read: Extremely demanding growing conditions, unable to be artificially cultivated to date.
He looked at her questioning gaze and nodded.
"Alright."
That evening, Oscar received the most absurd assignment of his career.
"So Mr. Russell's meaning is... I need to replicate a micro-ecosystem from 13,000 feet elevation in the Frostspire Range on Gaia? Including the air pressure, sunlight, temperature variations, and... microbial flora in the soil?"
Julian's voice came through the communicator. "Correct. I've already sent you the geological sample data from Velastra Republic's National Nature Reserve. Isabella's people are negotiating with the local government to lease that mountain peak for three years to facilitate our data collection."
Diana knew none of this.
She only noticed that an isolated section had appeared in the glass conservatory.
Engineering robots moved in and out, constructing rocky slopes inside.
She didn't ask.
She simply saw Rupert one evening, standing at the entrance to that section, brows tightly furrowed as he faced a virtual light screen.
Dense geological formation diagrams and atmospheric composition curves filled the display.
That expression—identical to when he'd analyzed the Phaethon Project's fiscal budget.
Diana walked over and stopped beside him.
"Actually," she said, "it's fine if it doesn't grow."
Rupert turned to look at her.
"I just," her voice was soft, "wanted to see if you could do it."
Rupert looked at her. After a long moment, he spoke.
"I can."
His world could exist without OmniCorp, but not without that shade of blue she wanted.
That miniature ecosystem replicating the Frostspire Range ultimately burned through a budget equivalent to a medium-sized nation's annual GDP, successfully producing a patch of cloud and mist on Gaia.
As for that small blue flower, it would have to wait until next rainy season.
Diana offered no comment on this.
She began spending more time in the study.
She started reading.
From ancient Greek philosophy to the latest quantum physics papers, from Victorian novels to meaningless argument threads on internet forums.
Rupert discovered this late one night.
After handling the European energy market mess, he habitually went to check on her, only to find her room lights still on.
He silently pushed open the door. What he saw wasn't Diana researching some new technology, but Diana staring blankly at an empty document.
Her brows were slightly furrowed, expression focused, as though deciphering an unsolvable mathematical problem.
He made no sound, quietly withdrawing.
The atmosphere at the Miracle Logistics Officer meeting.
Oscar pointed at a freshly received engineering directive, his voice trembling. "So Mr. Russell's latest instruction is... to convert his main office—the one overlooking the entire Greyharbor City coastline, with global stock market dynamic screens embedded in the walls, the Group's 'heart'—into a... study?"
Isabella whistled at this. "Not bad. That location offers excellent views, ideal for peaceful writing. Better than building mountains on ships anyway—at least no worries about altitude sickness."
"I've already pulled up Mr. Russell's office structural diagrams."