Chapter 1: Hallucination or Mutation?

“Auntie, here’s five hundred thousand.”

The slender young man opened the suitcase, dazzling everyone with stacks of cash that reflected the greed in his ex-girlfriend and her mother’s eyes. He couldn’t help but smirk. So this was what marrying into the family meant—he never expected they’d demand another five hundred thousand as an entrance fee at the last moment. To hell with that.

He’d just won five million in the lottery—there was no reason to keep putting up with this.

...

“Xiao Zhang, please, have a seat.” Mrs. Fan’s face lit up with joy as she reached eagerly for the black suitcase containing half a million. But the next moment, her expression darkened as the suitcase slammed shut with a thud—he wouldn’t let her take it.

“Xiao Zhang, what are you doing?”

“Auntie, you misunderstand...” Zhang Long pressed his hand atop the suitcase, offering an innocent smile. “This five hundred thousand is just for you to look at. That’s all. Thank you.”

“Now that you’ve seen it, I’ll be going. I wish you luck in finding a new, gullible son-in-law.”

With that, Zhang Long stood and made to leave.

“Long...” Fan Lu stared in disbelief. Wasn’t he here to discuss marrying into the family? Why was everything falling apart so suddenly? He didn’t even spare her a glance—it left her dazed.

“Long is gone,” came his calm, indifferent reply as Zhang Long turned his impassive gaze on the woman who was once his lover. “This is the outcome you and your mother chose. We agreed I’d marry in, but at the last minute, you demanded another five hundred thousand as an entrance fee, all so your brother could buy a home outright. I wish you success.”

“And by the way, thank you for refusing to marry me. If not for that, I’d never have gotten lucky and won the lottery. Such a shame—I won’t be attending your wedding, just in case I’m tempted to bring along an old CD of our past together.”

“Goodbye. Let’s never meet again.”

With a smile and a wave, Zhang Long turned and walked away.

“Zhang Long, you bastard!”

Mrs. Fan slammed the table and cursed in rage, but Zhang Long was already gone. He had vented his anger and settled the score. That was enough—there would be no next time.

He straightened his back, lifted his head, and embraced his new life.

...

“Ding dong! Now serving number 123...”

Zhang Long didn’t return straight to his rented apartment after leaving the Fan household. Instead, he hailed a taxi to the nearest bank, ready to handle his next task: transferring funds.

“Hello, how may I—” The teller paused, recognizing his somewhat weathered face and the name on his ID. A smile broke out. “Zhang Long, is that really you?”

“Huh? Class monitor?” Zhang Long was stunned by the coincidence.

“Yes, it’s me.” Luo Man, her jet-black hair elegantly pinned and dressed in a sharp blue bank uniform, smiled with her eyes. “It’s been two years—you look a little down these days. But never mind, I’m on the clock. What business do you need to handle?”

“Uh, just a deposit and transfer.” Zhang Long gave an embarrassed laugh. Part of him wanted to leave, but Luo Man’s delighted eyes at seeing an old classmate made it impossible to walk away.

He opened the suitcase and began taking out the money.

As stack after stack of cash appeared, Luo Man’s surprise grew—had Zhang Long struck it rich? It looked like at least several hundred thousand.

“Five hundred thousand, deposit.”

“All right, please wait a moment.” Despite her curiosity, Luo Man pulled herself together and got to work—a mark of her professionalism.

But the next moment, her composure shattered.

On the computer screen, Zhang Long’s bank balance displayed a staggering three point three two million. Add the five hundred thousand, and it would be three point eight two million.

Luo Man’s heart skipped a beat and her eyes widened in disbelief. Was there a system error?

As both his classmate and former class monitor, she knew Zhang Long was registered in a certain community in Hangzhou. His parents were unknown, and he had no family to rely on. She never understood why he’d come to Shanghai for university, but she was certain he had no support. Where could all this money have come from? Had he won the lottery?

“Um, class monitor?” Zhang Long coughed softly, trying to snap her out of it.

“Sorry...” Luo Man regained her composure, took a deep breath, and cast a quick, curious glance at Zhang Long before moving on—but in her heart, a mysterious seed had been planted.

Over three point eight million—that was no small sum.

...

“Hiss—damn!”

Morning, the next day.

Zhang Long woke with a start, a chill running through him. He shook his head to clear the fog—last night’s dream had been far too suggestive. He’d dreamt of Luo Man getting off work and coming home with him, sharing dinner, a passionate kiss, and then tumbling into bed. No wonder his heart was racing.

What a mess—utterly terrifying.

Amitabha—time to get up and wash.

“Shengxin Finance.”

After a grueling hour and a half of buses and subways, Zhang Long finally arrived at the office—a financial investment firm in Lujiazui on the Bund, grand and imposing.

But grandeur was meaningless.

The financial climate was grim; the bear market had dragged on for five years with no sign of a bull. The downturn was severe.

Shengxin wasn’t a big company, but it wasn’t small either. If the team weren’t strong and there weren’t other lines of business, the company would have folded or moved out of Lujiazui long ago.

After all, rent in this area was no small thing.

In finance, appearances matter. If you’re based somewhere remote, clients will doubt your strength. If you can’t even afford rent in Lujiazui, your investment credibility is shot—goodbye!

“Morning, Long-ge.”

“The boss wants you at the morning meeting.”

As soon as Zhang Long reached the team area, he got bad news—the pregnant client belonging to the team manager was here again, first thing in the morning, raising hell over her losses.

She’d opened an account and entered the market a year and a half ago, but hadn’t made a cent—only losses. The stock price never rose, only fell—she was well and truly trapped.

Even when there was a rebound, the price never returned to her original buy-in; she’d been stuck ever since.

Pregnancy, of course, brought hormonal changes.

She was already prone to mood swings, and watching her stock account lose money every day only made it worse. The market was what it was—no one could help that. Investments carry risk; caution is advised. She had signed the risk agreement upon opening the account, but now she refused to acknowledge it, insisting on compensation.

This was her third visit—she wouldn’t leave without payment, refusing food or drink and camping out in the office.

Right now, mediation was underway in the reception room.

...

Compensation was out of the question.

If they gave in, word would get out and there’d be a line at the door demanding refunds.

Even if the client sued, she wouldn’t win. Shengxin had done nothing illegal or against regulations. The only complication was that the client was pregnant, which made things tricky.

If she dug in her heels, it would be a headache.

...

“Meeting adjourned.” Zhang Long announced crisply and everyone dispersed.

There was nothing new to discuss—it was always the same: maintain existing clients, follow up on prospects, and develop new ones.

The market’s open from 9:30 to 11:30 in the morning, and 1:00 to 3:00 in the afternoon—two hours each. It was nearly nine; time to review the analysts’ daily stock picks and get to work.

“My head hurts.” Zhang Long opened the trading software.

Seeing the current market points and the bleak trend, he couldn’t help but grimace. He’d planned to resign today. Most of his old clients were either trapped or had cut their losses and left. New clients were even harder to develop, and even if he did, it was pointless—they’d only lose money.

No trades meant no commission, no commission meant no bonuses. The base salary barely covered rent and living expenses. Even in a bear market, there were always a few stocks that rose or hit their limit, but most people didn’t have that kind of luck—no use hoping.

At least, none of Shengxin’s clients did.

“Hmm?”

Suddenly, Zhang Long’s vision blurred.

[Takai Energy].

That was the stock the pregnant client was most heavily stuck in. Out of curiosity, he wanted to check its current performance. At first, everything seemed normal. But when he switched to the daily K-line chart, his eyes suddenly ached, and then—an illusion: the K-lines moved on their own.

September, 2012, Monday of the third week.

It wasn’t even 9:30 yet—the market hadn’t opened.

But the daily K-line had already drawn today’s, tomorrow’s, and the entire week’s trend by itself. Five days’ worth of movement extended before his eyes, then stopped—unbelievable.

A shiver ran down Zhang Long’s spine.

Rubbing his eyes, he stared at the computer screen. The five-day future trend for Takai Energy was etched there, glowing faintly.

Returns in the red—the stock was about to surge.

It looked to gain over twenty percent.

“Damn.”

Zhang Long shuddered again.

He glanced around, took a few calming breaths, then fixed his gaze on the screen.

Amitabha—what a stroke of fortune from the heavens.

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