Chapter 6

“Stock trading? Are you crazy?” Song Dahai was stunned and quickly urged: “I heard stocks are crashing horribly—why would you want to get in? Do you think it’s still the bull market from two years ago?”

“You can still make money in a bear market... I’ll borrow 200,000 from you—I’ll pay it back in at most three months. If you don’t believe me, I’ll mortgage my salary card to you, how about that?” Fang Qingye said.

“Alright, alright... why would I want your salary card? Fine. When do you need it?” Song Dahai asked.

“Not urgent—just these few days.”

“Okay.”

Fang Qingye didn’t borrow money from his friend to trade stocks on a whim.

His bank salary wasn’t low, but he was still far from achieving financial freedom.

Running a real business? Too exhausting.

Stock trading is simple. With his ten years of experience in investment banking from his past life, plus his post-rebirth understanding of capital market trends, achieving financial freedom—or even just hitting a small goal—wasn’t a big problem.

The hot pot lasted until eight p.m., when Song Dahai suggested going to KTV. Fang Qingye flatly refused.

Your duck voice—forget the hostesses, even I get goosebumps listening to you.

“I’m going home. Don’t drive—I’ll ride my bike and take you back.” Fang Qingye added as he was leaving.

“No need. I’ll leave the car here and take a taxi. You’re not going my way.” Song Dahai waved goodbye and walked toward the street.

Indeed, they weren’t going the same way—Song Dahai’s house was in the west city, a villa he built himself, in the opposite direction from Fang Qingye’s home.

Watching his friend disappear into a taxi, Fang Qingye finally rode his small scooter home.

The door was open, lights on—his mother had already returned and was sitting in the living room, eating sunflower seeds while watching TV leisurely.

Seeing Fang Qingye come in, she didn’t ask anything, just glanced at him and went back to her show.

His mother was always like this—never paying attention to him since childhood, never interfering in anything. Sometimes Fang Qingye wondered if he was even her biological son.

But today, just as Fang Qingye was about to enter his bedroom, his mother called out to him.

“Xiao Ye, I heard your bank lost 20 million in cash from a depositor—is that true?”

“Mom, how did you hear about this?” Fang Qingye was surprised—his mother wasn’t the gossip type.

Aside from teaching, she had no interest in anything else.

“Teacher Chen from my office—her husband works at your Qianjin Road Savings Office. She knows you joined Dongfang Bank, so she casually told me a few things... I’m asking you: is this related to you?” Zhang Meili asked.

“What does it have to do with me?” Fang Qingye was puzzled. “I’m still in training—I haven’t touched any core operations. Besides, I never trained at Qianjin Road Savings Office.”

“Good. As long as it’s not related to you.” His mother said, then went back to watching TV.

“Mom, what exactly did Teacher Chen tell you?” Fang Qingye asked curiously.

“Since it’s not related to you, it doesn’t matter.” His mother picked up sunflower seeds, eyes fixed on the TV, not turning around.

I @#￥%……

Fang Qingye had no choice but to return to his room.

Too early to sleep, so he turned on the desktop computer on his desk.

He’d built it himself with savings during his third year of university—back then, it had an AMD Athlon X2 5000 processor, a 5000 ATI Radeon 9550 GPU, 2GB Kingston DDR2 RAM, a 22-inch AOC LCD monitor, and a 320GB Seagate hard drive—back then, it was high-end. Now, it looked like garbage.

Whatever.

He wasn’t browsing web novels or chatting—he opened Tonghuashun stock software to check the trend of the stock he’d targeted.

Good—the manipulator was still quietly accumulating shares; the breakout would take more time.

Fang Qingye watched the day’s market trend, browsed some financial news online, then took a shower and went to bed.

This life—he wouldn’t be a night owl anymore. Health mattered.

The next day, Fang Qingye went to work on time—another chaotic day. The investigation team had shifted focus from the savings office to the branch building; anyone even remotely connected to the incident was summoned for questioning.

Of course, Fang Qingye wasn’t involved.

Two days later, someone posted about the incident on the Nanxin Baidu forum—hundreds of replies immediately piled up, all cursing the bank’s negligence, and some even suspected an inside mole.

Reporters had already rushed to Nanxin for interviews. The city’s People’s Bank, the Banking Regulatory Bureau, and county-level officials had all inquired about the matter in various ways—the atmosphere was growing increasingly tense.

From the branch manager down to ordinary staff, the entire Nanxin branch was shrouded in oppressive silence.

Xia He, who was in charge, kept her usual schedule, but her face was clearly haggard, losing its former radiance.

It was understandable—right at the critical moment before promotion, who wouldn’t be anxious?

Even worse, according to the bank’s leadership division, the Qianjin Road Savings Office fell under her jurisdiction; if anything truly went wrong, she alone would be held responsible—Zhao Wenjun, the other deputy manager, had nothing to do with it!

Wind fills the tower as storm approaches.

It was the weekend. Bored, Fang Qingye wandered the streets, thinking of finding an internet café to play Warcraft for a while—until he walked in and saw:

Holy hell—everyone inside had non-mainstream styles: Shamat, bat sleeves, harem pants... smoke hung thick in the air, making Fang Qingye frown.

Forget it. A jaded middle-aged man like him shouldn’t be mixing in.

He wandered aimlessly along the county’s main street, passing Dingcheng Hotel on Wenhua Road, when he spotted a petite girl in Donghang uniform hurrying out of the hotel.

It was Chen Meimei.

She mounted the small female scooter parked at the hotel entrance—seemed like she was heading home.

“Chen Meimei.” Fang Qingye called out.

Chen Meimei turned, and her tired face broke into a smile.

“Fang Qingye, out shopping alone?”

“Yeah.” Fang Qingye replied, then glanced at the hotel: “Finished work today?”

Chen Meimei understood what he meant and nodded. “Yes, done. The investigation team is returning to the city tomorrow.”

“Have they figured out the whole story?”

Chen Meimei gave a bitter shake of her head. “No—just temporarily returning. Director Liu needs to report to the main leadership of the city branch.”

“So complicated?”

“Yes. Let’s walk and talk.” Clearly, Chen Meimei had been holding back a flood of words.

Fang Qingye nodded.

Chen Meimei pushed her bike along the roadside in silence; Fang Qingye walked beside her, not speaking up.

After a while, Chen Meimei finally spoke. “Fang Qingye, don’t you think it’s strange?”

“What’s strange?”

“The 20 million in negotiable instruments fraudulently transferred from Tenglong Industries bore seals—official company stamp, legal representative stamp, and reserved company seal—that matched exactly. The investigation team even brought in city experts, and after repeated verification, they confirmed no forgery. Plus, corporate transfers require a corporate password and U-shield—all controlled by the company’s finance staff. Our bank personnel couldn’t have operated it. So how did the money get transferred?”

“Also, after verification, the 20 million was transferred to an account at a company in Zhejiang Province. But that company had zero financial dealings with Tenglong Industries over the past five years—not just at Dongfang Bank, but at any other bank either! Meaning, Tenglong had never even contacted that company before!”

“Even stranger—the latest update from Zhejiang says the actual controller of that company, a man surnamed Sun, is now missing. The investigation team suspects he’s already fled.”

“Oh...” Fang Qingye murmured.

Exactly as it happened in history.

But he didn’t say that—instead he asked: “What’s Tenglong Industries’ reaction?”