Chapter 10

Huo Zongzhuo chuckled again. He’d figured it out by now—Jiang Luo might look young, but he was anything but naïve.

When they arrived at the Hilton and entered the restaurant, Huo made yet another discovery:

Every time Jiang Luo stepped into a new place, he’d lift his eyes and scan the surroundings. But there was never any awe, no wide-eyed wonder. He just took everything in and moved on, completely composed.

When it came time to order steak, he knew exactly what doneness to ask for—Medium Well. He used his fork properly, and he could even tell which glass was meant for what.

That was definitely not what Huo had expected.

He’d figured an eighteen-year-old like Jiang Luo probably had never eaten steak, wouldn’t know how to use cutlery, or how to manage the glasses.

Huo even ordered Medium Well himself, planning to switch plates and cut the steak for the kid.

But clearly, that wasn’t necessary.

While eating, Huo casually struck up conversation. “You’ve had steak before?”

Of course I have, Jiang Luo thought. He’d lived once already.

But in this lifetime, this was his first steak.

He sliced the meat neatly and glanced up. “Just because I haven’t eaten pork doesn’t mean I’ve never seen a pig run.”

His tone was half teasing, half serious. “What, is it that strange? In your mind, I look like someone who’s never eaten steak?”

That was just how Jiang Luo was. He wasn’t the gentle type—whether in speech, expression, or actions, subtlety wasn’t in his vocabulary.

There was always a certain sharpness to him.

People who liked him said he had personality.
People who didn’t—like Su Lan and Zhao Shuo—said he was rude, too direct, even aggressive.

Huo Zongzhuo wasn’t one of those people. He thought the kid was bold, a little flashy—even cocky. Nothing like the other eighteen-year-olds he’d met.

Huo answered honestly, “I really did think you’d never had steak. I figured you wouldn’t know how to cut it, so I was going to do it for you.”

Jiang Luo raised a brow. “You’re that good at taking care of people?”

Funny, he thought. Last lifetime, all you ever gave me was that cold deadpan face.

He shrugged. “Even if I didn’t know how, I’d have to learn. What other people know is theirs. What I know is mine.”

Huo found himself impressed. The kid had depth.

He shifted the topic. “So why’d you run away from home all by yourself? From your accent, you’re a local from Haicheng, right?”

Jiang Luo lowered his eyes to cut another piece of steak. “Bad relationship with my family.”

He lifted his gaze. “What, you trying to dig into my background now?”

Huo met his look calmly. “Not at all. Just making conversation.”

“What about you?” Jiang Luo countered smoothly. “Married? Got kids? Wife and children back home in Su City?”

“No.”

Huo replied, “I’m not married, and I don’t have kids. I’m not dating anyone either. I’m on my own.”

“Why?” Jiang Luo asked.

He’d always been curious in his previous life. Now he finally got to ask.

“No real reason,” Huo said. “Just never met anyone I liked. And work keeps me busy.”

So not because he can’t perform? Jiang Luo wondered.

But deep down, he was 95% convinced the man wasn’t capable.

If he wasn’t, then he wasn’t. Jiang Luo even felt a little sympathy.

For a man, not being able to… well—that was tragic.

They kept chatting like that, casually, drifting from one light topic to another.

Meanwhile—

Zhao Shuo had spent the entire afternoon searching for Jiang Luo. He’d practically gone all the way to Baoshan District with still no trace of the kid.

He was frustrated and furious, ready to grab a loudspeaker and broadcast to the whole city.

When he found Jiang Luo, he was definitely kicking that brat twice.

At Fudan University, in the dorms—

The dorm supervisor came upstairs looking for Zhao Mingshi, telling him his mother had called. Zhao headed down to the receptionist’s desk and picked up the landline.

But instead of Su Lan’s voice, it was Zhang Xiangping telling him to come home for dinner.

Zhao Mingshi frowned, put the receiver down, hung up without hesitation, and walked away, annoyed.

Go home? Who wants to go back to that dump?

That broken building with no private bathroom? Disgusting.

The next day—

Jiang Luo arrived at the Jing’an brokerage. With over a hundred grand in cash flow on hand, he began aggressively trading several stocks. His trips to the counter increased significantly.

The glasses man was there too, sitting right beside him, sticking close. He’d lent Jiang Luo ten thousand, after all—of course he needed to watch him and make sure the kid didn’t run.

Which meant he had a front-row seat when Jiang Luo bought more shares of Dian Zhenkong at 69… and then spent over thirty thousand buying Feile when it dropped to 29 after several days of decline.

The glasses man’s eyes nearly popped out. “Are you crazy? Dian Zhenkong is already at 69—everyone’s selling! And you’re buying more? And Feile’s been dropping for days!”

“And you still dare to buy it!?”

That afternoon, Feile started climbing—hit 32.
Dian Zhenkong climbed too—up to 71.4.

The glasses man shut his mouth real quick.

But soon after, his eyes bulged again—

After a series of frequent trades that morning, Jiang Luo bought nearly fifty thousand yuan’s worth—almost seven hundred shares—when Dian Zhenkong climbed close to 72.5.

The glasses man: ???

Others around them were stunned too. Even though the price had topped seventy again, most people were uneasy. They felt it had risen enough, were scared it would drop, and started selling.

The glasses man panicked. “H-how about you just give me back my ten thousand? I don’t want the fifty-percent profit anymore!”

He really didn’t trust Jiang Luo’s trading strategy.

Jiang Luo leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, eyes locked on the screen. “Shut your mouth. Stop bothering me.”

The man practically squeaked, “Kid, it can’t go any higher! Everyone’s selling—you see that? When people dump, the price drops!”

People across the hall—whether they held the stock or not—were whispering, watching nervously.

And then—

Right before closing, Dian Zhenkong skyrocketed.

It blasted up to 76.2.

The entire hall exploded.
The brave ones—and the impulsive ones—rushed the counter to buy.

The glasses man was stunned speechless. This… this…

He grabbed Jiang Luo’s arm. “Bro! Sell! It’s at 76—sell! Take the profit!”

Jiang Luo shook him off, eyes fixed on the screen—calm, focused, with a hint of wild ambition. “Sell? No. It’s got more room.”

Someone behind them leaned in. “Really? How can you tell? Do you have inside info?”

Jiang Luo said lazily, “See for yourself. Buy or don’t buy—your choice. I already did.”

The man sprinted to the counter.

Whether from herd mentality or genuine excitement, more people followed.

The glasses man stared at the screen, stunned. More room? At 76?

He turned to look at Jiang Luo, sitting there with arms crossed, cool and steady beyond his age.

Jiang Luo smirked faintly.

His relaxed composure didn’t match his youth at all.

What came through instead was a sharp, unrestrained confidence.

He even crossed one leg over the other, tapping his foot lightly, chin lifted just a little as he watched the price—like everything was moving exactly as he intended.

The next day, something happened that electrified the entire brokerage hall:

Everything was in the red—

In a good way.

Indices soared.
Buyers flooded the counters.
People went home just to scrape together more money to invest.

Jiang Luo simply watched quietly, arms folded.
He didn’t need to move. He’d already thrown in everything he had—over a hundred thousand, including what Wang Chuang had helped him borrow.

Dian Zhenkong kept climbing.
It was already at 84.

Feile hit 30.
Yan Zhong and the rest crept up steadily.

The hall was roaring with excitement. Eyes were red with greed.

Still rising! Still rising!

When the market closed, almost everyone walked out beaming.

The glasses man beside Jiang Luo was ecstatic. Even though he bought late, giving Jiang Luo ten thousand was earning him a fortune.

So happy.
So thrilling.
So satisfying.

Jiang Luo walked at an easy pace, munching on an apple.

This is nothing.
Soon they’d all understand—
Not just stocks, not just prices—
The whole country would rise. Fast.

It was 1990.
Everything was just beginning.

As he made his way toward the small inn where he lived, a BMW honked twice behind him.

He turned.
Huo Zongzhuo’s BMW.

Jiang Luo stopped and bent down slightly to look through the window. Huo met his eyes and said:

“Get in. I’ll take you to dinner.”