The first thing Yang Ruoqian did after reading the file was check whether it contained a direct profit figure. It did not. That should have comforted him. Unfortunately, the file explained that the worst small cinema had sticky floors, old seats, and a balance sheet like a warning sign, which was the kind of sentence that looked harmless until the system started counting it.
Yang Ruoqian's private calculation was still very professional. The plan around the Buy The Worst Small Cinema matter had receipts, workflow, and enough normal business logic to pass the system's eyes. Better yet, the costs were concrete: rent, renovation, old equipment, staff shifts, safety repairs, low-margin tickets, and an ancient lobby that could eat money politely. A normal boss would ask how to convert those costs into growth. Yang only cared whether the brick-and-mortar weight could keep swallowing money without producing a number large enough to punish him.
