Chapter 278

"Noodles?"

"Yeah, my kids work during the day, no one cooks for me. I'm alone, so I just eat whatever's tasty."

"Noodles are tasty?" Old Nie shook his head: "Old Su, I'm not saying this to criticize you, but from now on, eat less of that fast food. I'm telling you, Old Su, now that you're alone, you've got to enjoy life properly—eat well, drink well, have fun, keep yourself healthy."

Su Daqiang waved his hand and laughed: "Noodles are fast food? Don't joke, Old Nie. How much does one meal cost? Is that not enjoying life?"

"Your mindset, Old Su," Old Nie pointed at him with a finger, grinning. "After my wife passed, my son set rules for me: three thousand a month, a hundred a day, must finish it all, no saving. He even found me a few classy, healthy restaurants—I'm now going around enjoying gourmet meals. Just now, I had cherry pork and water shield soup. Isn't that better than noodles? Right, Old Su? Hahaha… Old Su, we're old now. Time to change our mindset. Don't keep scrimping and saving—saving for whom? Isn't that right?"

Su Daqiang gave a forced smile, completely defeated, walking slowly with his hands behind his back. He didn't want to talk anymore—he wasn't a match. But he couldn't leave either; after all, he'd been the one who suggested sunbathing together. Leaving now would make him look like he was fleeing.

They'd been old comrades for years. Old Nie knew exactly what was going on, but as the victor, he was forgiving. He immediately changed the subject, chatting about trivial gossip from other old friends' homes—this was the easiest way to find common ground; whoever had it worse was the one who lost.

As they chatted along, they didn't notice they'd reached the park. Both old men sighed contentedly, "Ahh," and sat down on a sunlit bench with no shade, soaking up the sun.

"Hey, Old Su, still play the lottery?"

"Yeah, I do," Su Daqiang grinned. "Old Nie, once you mention the lottery, I'm the expert. I just found a new lottery game—if you're interested, I'll show you the ropes?"

"Quit. Stopped long ago," Old Nie shook his head. "Lottery's all luck. If you want to make money, you've got to play something scientific."

"Isn't the lottery scientific? What do you mean, you're playing something scientific? Tell me—how's it scientific?"

Old Nie chuckled and spat out two words: "Financial management!"

"Financial management?"

"Yeah, financial management. Never tried it, huh? Hahaha."

Su Daqiang didn't care about the old man's bragging—he remembered what Su Mingcheng had told him about investment, and asked: "Hey, Old Nie, tell me—is financial management the same thing as investment?"

"Oh, that's a deep question. Good, Old Su—I didn't know you even knew about investment."

"It's because of my kids—they talk about this stuff at meals. I just overheard a bit. Since you brought up financial management, I figured I'd ask."

"Then your kids are impressive," Old Nie said. "Let me tell you, Old Su—investment is about speed, about maximizing profit in the short term, making a lot of money fast, but the risk is much, much higher. Financial management is different. Though investment can be considered a form of financial management, financial management carries far less risk, is relatively stable, and focuses on the long term. You get that, right?"

"Got it," Su Daqiang summarized: "So investment is short-term, high profit, high risk. Financial management is long-term, modest profit, low risk. That's the idea, right?"

"Exactly! You catch on quick," Old Nie chuckled, watching Su Daqiang think. "Alright, stop thinking. Financial management isn't for you. You've got too little capital—stick to your lottery."

Su Daqiang was very unhappy—extremely unhappy. Who the hell did this old bastard think he was looking down on? He had over 200,000 in the bank—did this guy think he couldn't afford it? But following the principle of not flaunting wealth, he held his tongue, swallowed the insult, and asked humbly: "Old Nie, don't care whether I can afford it—just tell me how financial management actually works."

"Financial management? That's all young people's stuff. I only know a little—I can't explain much to you."

"Come on, Old Nie. Young people's stuff? Look at your outfit—you're more youthful than any young person."

Old Nie laughed heartily: "I'll tell you, whether you're old or not is up to you. I'm this age now, my wife's gone, my kids are all married and too busy for me. By now I've figured it out: live however makes you happy, don't care about societal rules. Look at me—I love hanging out with young people, chatting with them, exercising, learning their lifestyle."

After rambling, Old Nie got to the point: "I learned financial management from the young. Now I can use my pension and savings to make a little extra money—easy money, fun, just for the joy of it."

Su Daqiang asked: "Does financial management really make money?"

"You see? You're out of touch. If investment didn't make money, why would your kids talk about it? Nowadays, everyone does financial management. If it didn't make money, who'd bother? Isn't that logical? It's called: if you don't manage your money, your money won't manage you; if you manage your money, your money will love you."

"But isn't there risk?"

"What's risk-free? Is there no risk in the lottery? You've played for years—how many times have you won?" Old Nie continued: "Financial management isn't like investment—it's relatively stable. It offers fixed returns, and risk and reward are proportional. As long as you don't blindly chase highs or get greedy, you'll usually make money."

Su Daqiang thought it over, then smiled sweetly at Old Nie: "Hey, Old Nie, you gotta take me along. Teach me—I want to make a little extra cash like you."

Old Nie grinned: "I'll tell you, Old Su—financial management requires two things: capital and the right mindset. If you just want to dabble, you can join. But if you want to get rich, forget it. And the capital needed is substantial—at least ten thousand. You've got to talk to your kids and get their approval before you play. Otherwise, I won't take you."

"Come on, I know that already. Don't worry, Old Nie, I've got it under control. And I won't go big—just start with ten thousand like you said. Teach me how. Let's get it done today—I'll treat you to dinner, restaurant style."

"Wait, shouldn't you at least call your kids first? Why the rush?"

"No need. The money's mine—I can't even spend ten thousand myself? Besides, you, Old Nie, would you cheat me?"

"That's true—we've been friends for so long, you know what kind of person I am," Old Nie sighed. "Alright, I'll help you out. But let's be clear upfront: whether you make or lose money, don't blame me."

"Like you said—you know what kind of person I am," Su Daqiang bumped his shoulder against Old Nie's. "Come on, teach me how to do it."

Old Nie chuckled: "You're so eager. Just use your phone—but you need your ID, or a photo of it in your phone. Do you have one?"

"I've got both. Just do it."

Sitting on the park bench, the two fiddled with the phone. Old Nie taught Su Daqiang how to buy periodic financial products or funds he himself had chosen as safe. After a while, Su Daqiang used his newly set-up mobile banking—much simpler than a passbook—and spent over ten thousand, buying a bit of everything. His decisive move—plunking down ten thousand without blinking—earned him a small show of pride in Old Nie's eyes, and he was delighted.

It wasn't that Su Daqiang was gullible—he was indeed excited, but not senile. First, he and Old Nie were old colleagues, known each other for years. Second, he'd seen how much money Old Nie had from financial management—far more than he had. Most importantly, if they were both scammed, he could still find someone to blame. So he trusted him, and acted freely.

This time, Su Daqiang didn't stint—he kept his promise and took Old Nie out to dinner. They even had two bottles of beer together before parting ways, each heading home.

Having met Old Nie and lost the verbal sparring, Su Daqiang was unwilling. Truthfully, his children were superior to Old Nie's. But his eldest son, once decent, was now divorced and jobless, soon to be homeless; his second son was lazy, deceitful, gluttonous, and accomplished nothing; his most financially successful daughter, because of his dead wife, now refused to recognize him. Yet despite all this, he couldn't fall short in appearance.

So Su Daqiang, as in the original plot, used the comparison between himself and Old Nie to subtly make his case, and began demanding fifty yuan daily from Su Mingcheng and his wife for meals. Though it was half of the hundred he'd hoped for, Su Daqiang asked for little—he was content.

For the next two days, Su Daqiang, heart fluttering with nervous excitement, casually continued playing the lottery. He'd left his number and added WeChat to the agent boy, who kept in touch, sending him many housing listings. Since he had nothing else to do, he wandered around, previewing them.

He'd originally planned to just browse casually. But after viewing over a dozen apartments, his ideal home kept rising higher, his desire grew itchier, and he dreamed of buying a house…

Until the third day, after two days of confirming his share, Su Daqiang's fund showed its first profit on his phone. He hadn't invested much—only a few thousand—and daily fluctuations were within a hundred or so yuan. Seeing the red numbers on his screen, Su Daqiang was thrilled—it was a great way to earn pocket money. Old Nie was a good brother.

But while he was making money, it was still far from enough to buy a house. He'd thought of selling his old house, but even with the proceeds, he couldn't afford a new one—he couldn't pay the mortgage. And even combined with his savings, it still fell short of the down payment for the house he wanted.

After much thought, Su Daqiang remembered what Su Mingcheng had told him. He'd been pestering him these days, but hadn't agreed. Now he saw financial management was a good path—so investment, which was even more aggressive, should make even more. And since Old Nie hadn't tried investment, studying it himself might be a good idea.

That evening, after Su Mingcheng and his wife returned home and finally settled down, with Zhu Li resting in her room, Su Daqiang, watching TV, glanced at his second son beside him.

He picked up the remote, turned off the TV, cleared his throat, and said: "Mingcheng, what was it you said about investment again?"

Hearing this, Su Mingcheng's face lit up instantly as he rushed to his father's side: "Dad, you've figured it out?"

"What figured out? I'm just curious. I've been strolling with Old Nie these past few days—he mentioned financial management and investment, said he's doing it too. Since you've been nagging me about investment, I figured I'd ask you—what exactly is this investment? Live and learn, right?"

Su Mingcheng gave a thumbs-up, full of admiration: "Dad, no wonder your awareness is so high—your thinking is totally different from other elderly folks."

"Enough flattery. Tell me properly about your investment."

"Dad, I'm telling you the truth," Su Mingcheng said seriously. "I told you about Manager Zhou—she's my boss. I've worked with her for years, she's absolutely trustworthy. The factory she took me to last time? Its boss is one of her longtime clients—she used to help sell their products. They've known each other for ages. The factory recently bought new equipment and is under heavy financial pressure, so they approached Manager Zhou for cooperation."

"Now, including Manager Zhou and the factory boss, there are five people total. Dad, I'm not lying—this is a guaranteed profit. If it weren't for my good relationships and having worked with Zhou for so long, she wouldn't have let me in. Others can't even get near this opportunity—it's an absolute golden chance. Once you invest, when the machines start, you'll be swimming in gold. Just sit back and count your money, Dad."

Seeing his father thinking, and seizing this rare opening, Su Mingcheng pressed on: "Dad, money is earned, not saved. Investment in industry isn't like financial products—it's real, tangible, something we can see with our own eyes. If you're unsure, tomorrow I'll take you to visit the factory—how about that?"

"Once you see it, you'll understand—everything's ready. As soon as the money's in, production starts immediately. And Dad, you'll get your first dividend in three months. I told you before it'd take a year to break even—I was being conservative. Think about it: the factory produces, and Manager Zhou finds buyers to sell everything—how huge's the profit? Maybe even half a year to break even."

Su Daqiang pondered silently. After a long while, under Su Mingcheng's hopeful gaze, he stood up and went to his room: "It's late. Go to sleep."

"No, Dad, I'm not lying to you, really..."

In response, the door remained tightly shut. Su Mingzhe let out a frustrated sigh—again, he'd wasted half the morning spitting out words—and sat back down on the sofa, pondering how to get some money...

The next day, Zhu Li left for work early, while Su Mingcheng was still fast asleep in bed.

A loud *knock-knock-knock* came at the door. Still sound asleep, Su Mingcheng didn't open his eyes, grumbling: "What is it, Dad? It's barely morning—can't you let me sleep in peace?"

Su Daqiang pushed the door open and shuffled slowly to the window, bending down to look at Su Mingcheng: "Son, shall we go see that factory?"

"Oh come on, Dad, why do we need to see a factory, this—" The words cut off as Su Mingcheng suddenly opened his eyes, instantly alert: "Dad, what did you say? You want to go see a factory?"

"Didn't you say yesterday you'd take me to see it in person?" Su Daqiang had tossed and turned until midnight, scrolling through his phone to research investments and industry, mulling it over—sleep had been hard. He decided to just take a look first, so he'd come early to wake his second son.

Hearing this, Su Mingcheng rolled over, yanked the blanket free, and sat up straight: "Dad, wait for me to wash up, I'll call Manager Zhou to take a day off, then we'll grab breakfast and head straight over."

Su Daqiang grunted in reply and shuffled slowly out of the bedroom.

Su Mingcheng punched the air excitedly—he knew his father's character all too well. This was almost certainly real. It was damn perfect...