Asset Appreciation and Emotional Costs

Time on Colchis seemed to have been fast-forwarded beneath the alternating orange-red skies of its twin suns.

Only a few months had passed.

The baby Zhou Beichen had once been able to hold easily in his arms now had to duck to enter the church's low doorway.

Lorgar had shot up to an astonishing height, taller and more powerfully built than most grown men on Colchis. His muscles were smoothly defined and full of strength, like a godly statue from a classical sculpture brought to life.

Only his still-youthful face, even retaining a trace of childishness, and those eternally clear violet eyes reminded Zhou Beichen that the soul within this body might not have matured at quite the same pace as the flesh.

Standing in a corner of the church, Zhou Beichen watched Lorgar effortlessly shoulder a huge bundle of metal pipes that needed repairing for an old man. He bent slightly, patiently listening to the man's rambling thanks, while a tenderness almost bordering on compassion rippled through those violet eyes.

"Being high above others can certainly earn you respect," Zhou Beichen had once taught him, "but that respect is fragile and full of distance. As the son of a god, you need divinity, but you also need humanity. Step down from the altar and stay among your shareholders. Feel their breath, touch their suffering, and only then will they invest their true loyalty—even their lives—in you."

Lorgar learned quickly, even surpassing his teacher. He did not merely offer comfort with words; he intervened with action. Repairing homes, digging wells, even moving massive boulders blocking passageways with his bare hands... Day after day, the believers interpreted his inhuman strength with ever-greater conviction as a manifestation of divine grace. The people's adoration for him had become almost fanatical. When they looked at Lorgar, their eyes mixed reverence for a deity with pride in an outstanding younger member of their own family.

To Zhou Beichen, this was undoubtedly an extremely successful investment.

The offerings received by the church had long since become incomparable to what they once were. Energy cells, clean water, even some reasonably well-preserved weapon parts began flowing in without end. Zhou Beichen had even used these resources to form a small "church guard" of the most fervent young believers. Their equipment was crude, but their discipline and loyalty far surpassed those of the loose tribal militias.

The asset is steadily appreciating, and market share continues to expand, Zhou Beichen assessed inwardly.

At night, silence returned to the church, broken only by the eternal windblown sand rasping against the metal outer walls. In the partitioned room serving as a study, Zhou Beichen taught Lorgar more advanced lessons by the dim light of an acetylene lamp.

"...So, the establishment of faith is essentially a process of brand-building." Using a metal rod, Zhou Beichen drew lines across a table covered in sand. "You need a core symbol—such as you and your eyes. You need a set of easily spread slogans and codes of conduct—that is, doctrine and ritual. And you need to continually create miracles or favorable news to sustain brand buzz and user loyalty."

Lorgar listened quietly. His towering body seemed somewhat cramped in the small room, but his gaze was focused and keen. Within the depths of that violet gaze, beyond the compassion he had been born with, there now truly settled the shrewdness and calm of an analyst. This was the result of Zhou Beichen's careful instruction. He had successfully made this vessel of divinity understand the cold logic of reality beneath divinity.

"I understand, Father." Lorgar's voice was deep, all childishness gone from it, carrying a strange resonance. "Faith is a tool, a lever for prying loose resources. The people are the foundation, and their belief is capital we can draw upon."

"Very good." Zhou Beichen nodded in satisfaction. Lorgar's comprehension was beyond imagination. He had not only memorized the concepts, but could extrapolate from them. That gave Zhou Beichen, as his mentor, immense gratification, along with a faint, indescribable wariness.

He was growing too quickly—so quickly that he was almost slipping beyond the projected model.

After a moment of silence, Lorgar suddenly spoke again, looking straight at Zhou Beichen. "Father, you taught me that everything is a transaction, an investment. I am the rare commodity you discovered, your most vital asset."

Zhou Beichen paused slightly and met those violet eyes that seemed able to see through the human heart.

"According to your theories, the rational way to treat an asset or investment is to strictly control costs, precisely calculate returns, maintain absolute objectivity and calm, and avoid any unnecessary emotional investment in order to prevent distorted judgment." Lorgar's tone was steady, as though reciting a cold formula. "Then why have you invested so much... emotion in me?"

The air seemed to freeze.

The acetylene flame flickered faintly, pulling their shadows across the walls until they brightened and dimmed.

Zhou Beichen fell silent.

He had not expected Lorgar to ask that question, much less for it to strike so directly at a corner of his heart that even he had been unwilling to examine closely.

Over the past few months, those instinctive displays of concern, that patience exceeding a mentor's duties, that heartfelt joy whenever Lorgar made progress...

So all those tiny things, things that could not be measured by return on investment, had been seen by those sharp eyes.

He drew a deep breath of Colchis's dry, rust-scented air. His mind raced as he tried to give a shrewd answer suited to the persona he presented.

"An excellent question." Zhou Beichen finally spoke. His voice regained its usual calm, though a barely noticeable tremor lay hidden beneath it. "You have touched upon a key investment strategy—emotional leverage."

He rose and walked to the window, gazing out into the endless night.

"Purely rational investment may be suitable for stocks and futures. But when the investment target is a living person with limitless potential, things become more complicated." He turned to look at Lorgar. "Emotion—or rather, at least measured emotion put on display—is itself a form of investment."

"It can greatly increase an asset's loyalty and sense of belonging, reducing the risk of betrayal. It is an extremely effective hedge. I invest emotion so that you will identify with me, depend on me, and bind my goals deeply to yours. That is more secure than any contract or restraint by force."

He paused, as though weighing his own words, or perhaps confirming some part of the truth within himself.

"Besides," Zhou Beichen said in a lower voice, with an honesty that was almost cruel, "in this damned universe, loneliness... is itself an exceedingly high cost. Speaking with you, teaching you, watching you grow—those things have, to a certain degree, eased that cost for me. That, too, may be regarded as a... necessary psychological expense."

He had given a perfect answer, one belonging to a speculator. He had quantified emotion, instrumentalized it, and folded it into his cold system of logic.

Lorgar listened silently, his violet eyes as deep as an abyss, an unreadable light glimmering within them. He seemed to be processing the answer, yet also discerning which parts were genuine calculation and which were concealments that even the speaker himself had failed to recognize.

After a long while, he lowered his head slightly and said softly, "I understand, Father. Emotion is also a resource that must be managed and utilized."

Zhou Beichen nodded, yet for some reason, he felt a sense of relief mixed with an indescribable emptiness.

"Yes. Remember that." He returned to the table and patted Lorgar's broad shoulder, far too broad for someone his age. "Get some rest. Tomorrow we're going to the eastern settlement. Their water purification system has malfunctioned, and they need your 'miracle.'"

"Yes, Father."

Lorgar obediently rose and left. The instant he turned away, Zhou Beichen looked at his tall, steady back, and a thought surfaced beyond his control:

Am I carefully cultivating a perfect tool, or am I... raising a son?

When all is said and done, will I still be able to calculate this transaction's profit and loss?