Chapter 270: Are Your Money Just Blown in by the Wind?

Li Dayong stayed behind at Fenghua Clothing Factory, while Wang Qiang insisted on sticking by Li Ye's side.

After all, this is overseas—how could I let my brother walk around alone with strangers?

But when they reached the agreed restaurant and confirmed that only Luo Runbo was inside the private room, he took two bites of food and stubbornly refused to enter, choosing to wait outside.

"Bro, I don't understand what you're talking about—I'll just wait outside."

"Qiangzi, we're brothers, not outsiders. If you wait outside, people will think you're my lackey!"

"Hehehe, isn't that exactly what I am?"

Wang Qiang grinned his simple, dumb grin, but Li Ye always felt the kid was showing signs of awakening—or perhaps he'd never been that foolish to begin with.

After Wang Qiang left the private room, Luo Runbo pulled out a stack of documents from his briefcase.

"Mr. Li, as per your instructions, I've liquidated the vast majority of your futures contracts and converted them into U. . dollars as soon as possible—they've now been wired to your personal account. Here are the detailed profit statements; please review them."

Li Ye skimmed the statements and saw that over the past six months, Luo Runbo had been making subtle, continuous adjustments, genuinely striving to maximize Li Ye's returns.

Li Ye's final profit amounted to roughly 78 million Hong Kong dollars, or nearly 9. million U. . dollars after conversion.

Li Ye set down the profit statement and asked Luo Runbo: "What's the current exchange rate for Hong Kong dollars to U. . dollars?"

Luo Runbo sighed: "It's already broken 8. , nearing 8. . Mr. Li, you're incredibly sharp— not only has the Hang Seng Index dropped below 700 points, but the exchange rate keeps falling with no end in sight!"

Although Luo Runbo made a fortune from this market crash, seeing Hong Kong's situation deteriorate further filled him with deep concern.

"Bo, you're a professional—give Mr. Li some expert advice."

Beside him, Pei Wencong kicked him under the table, warning him not to express personal emotions in this setting.

Luo Runbo, his old classmate, was a man of feeling—great for friendship, but showing such emotion before Mr. Li looked unprofessional.

Li Ye watched Luo Runbo with quiet amusement and smiled: "How could it possibly hit rock bottom? Things always reverse when they reach their extreme!"

"Yes, yes! When things reach their worst, they turn for the better—it'll improve, heheheh."

Pei Wencong laughed to ease the tension, but then he suddenly remembered something—and his chuckle cut off abruptly.

He hesitated, looking at Li Ye, then asked cautiously: "Mr. Li, when do you think it'll hit bottom?"

"Soon, maybe," Li Ye glanced at Pei Wencong, then smiled calmly at Luo Runbo: "Mr. Luo, when it drops another ten percent, open the maximum leverage and buy Hong Kong dollars."

"Buy Hong Kong dollars? Maximum leverage? Mr. Li, you're joking, right? My maximum leverage is 100 times."

Luo Runbo exclaimed in shock.

Hong Kong's situation was dire—not just a sluggish currency market, but widespread public loss of confidence in the Hong Kong dollar, with citizens rushing to convert savings into foreign currency.

This caused some banks to halt Hong Kong dollar-to-foreign-currency exchanges, and even certain merchants began posting signs refusing to accept Hong Kong dollars for specific goods.

Now Li Ye wanted to go against the tide, buying Hong Kong dollars with high leverage—it looked like pure suicide.

Remember, when Li Ye traded the Hang Seng Index, he followed the trend.

At that time, the Hang Seng had been falling for a long while; everyone assumed it would keep dropping, but no one expected it to crash so hard, plunging below 700 points.

It was like a stock market that had collapsed so badly—when everyone lost faith, no one believed light lay ahead; they all saw only an endless abyss.

But now Li Ye was bullish on the currency market—and with such conviction—it was utterly incomprehensible.

Still, out of professional duty, Luo Runbo asked: "Then, Mr. Li, how much capital are you planning to invest?"

Li Ye replied calmly: "Go all in. Buy the Hong Kong dollars and just let me know when it's done."

Are you playing mahjong on the street? Don't care about a few bucks?

Not just Luo Runbo was stunned—Pei Wencong was too.

But he quickly recovered, suppressing his excitement to ask Li Ye: "Mr. Li, do you have… some inside information?"

Li Ye smiled: "I have no inside info—I'm just doing economic analysis. You can call me a gambler if you like."

Pei Wencong and Luo Runbo were left speechless.

If you called Li Ye a madman, he'd just completed a massive trade—turning less than a million in capital into tens of millions in profit.

But if you called him an "economist," that was absurd.

Which economist could predict a currency turning point with such precision? With leverage involved, a mere few cents' drop could wipe out Li Ye's nearly ten million U. . dollars.

Ten million U. . dollars in 1983? That was real money.

"Alright, Mr. Li, you're the client—you decide. But I must warn you once more: in futures trading, risk and reward are never equal."

Luo Runbo gave Li Ye his final safety warning.

But Li Ye smiled gently: "I know. Thank you, Mr. Luo."

Li Ye knew perfectly well that risk and reward weren't balanced—but for others, risk far outweighed reward; for him, there was only reward, no risk.

The Hong Kong dollar-to-U. . dollar rate would hit its historic low of 9. in 1983; it was already near 8. . Another ten percent drop would push it past 9. 5—if he didn't act now, he'd miss his chance.

In just one month, the rate would rebound to 7. : . With proper leverage, Li Ye would earn his first "small goal" since his reincarnation.

And it would be measured in U. . dollars.

…

After the decision, a series of formalities followed. Luo Runbo signed a meticulous agency agreement with Li Ye. Only after Li Ye signed the final character did Luo Runbo let out a long sigh.

"Mr. Li, you're the youngest, boldest, and most outstanding individual investor I've ever met. I hope your judgment this time is correct."

Li Ye put down his pen and smiled: "So, Mr. Luo, aren't you joining me this time?"

Luo Runbo's office had moved from a narrow alley to a spacious skyscraper, and he now drove a brand-new car—Li Ye guessed he'd followed Li Ye's "wind" during the Hang Seng trade.

Luo Runbo smiled bitterly: "Don't laugh, Mr. Li—I'm older now. I'm afraid of losing what I've just gained… and even more afraid of losing my confidence."

Li Ye suddenly understood why Luo Runbo had repeatedly tried to dissuade him.

A young, brilliant genius, if struck by a fatal setback, might be destroyed forever.

Luo Runbo truly was a human, compassionate trader—even if, in some ways, he wasn't fully professional.

"Thank you, Mr. Luo. Dinner tonight?"

"No, no—I need to prepare for your deal right away. I'll treat you to dinner tomorrow or the day after."

"Alright, goodbye."

Li Ye turned and left with a smile, heading with Pei Wencong to Tà Lang Literature Publishing House.

His main reasons for coming to Hong Kong were two: achieving his small goal, and dealing with "A Song of Ice and Fire."

Two months ago, "A Song of Ice and Fire" completed its first round of evaluation and entered the second phase: market trial sales. The final results were about to be announced.

Though its returns couldn't match the thrill of futures speculation, it had its own advantages.

First, the income flowed steadily—future publishing, adaptations, merchandise—all held limitless potential.

Second, the money was earned "legitimately," giving him a protective shield.

Besides, Wen Leyu occasionally criticized Li Ye for being too wasteful. Though she hadn't yet restricted his allowance, this couldn't go on.

Let me show you what a sky-high royalty fee looks like. Three one three one—one, two, three—let's include Teacher Ke too.

Wen Leyu, you're already a millionaire—how can you still accuse me of wasting money when I'm spending a little?

At the publishing house, Pei Wencong had Ah Min warmly greet Li Ye and Wang Qiang, serving red wine and tea snacks, then handed Li Ye several top-performing translation drafts to review.

Then Pei Wencong quietly slipped back to his office and immediately called Luo Runbo.

"Hey, Bo, how much do I still have in my investment account? What? Only four million left?"

"Cong, you withdrew two million U. . dollars last month, and the month before that—"

"Enough, enough, I know. Put all your money into the currency market—follow Mr. Li's plan."

"."

After a long silence on the other end, Luo Runbo roared: "You don't believe me, do you? You think I'm unprofessional? This kind of risk—do you think your money just blew in from the wind?!"

Pei Wencong held the receiver away, waiting until Luo Runbo calmed down before bringing his ear back.

"Bo, isn't our money exactly what the wind blew in? You followed the wind and made over a million yourself."

"."

"Trust me, Bo—following the right wind matters."

"."

"Cong, tell me honestly—who is this Li Ye?"

"I don't know. But a few months ago, Ah Qiang went to Beijing in mainland China and came back telling me some things—I feel he's not ordinary."

"You son of a bitch, I knew you had inside info—I knew it! You've been hiding this from me!"

Even over the phone, Pei Wencong could picture Luo Runbo pacing in furious circles.

"Fine. I'll bet my coffin lid too—if I lose, I'll move into your hilltop villa."

"Beep-beep-beep~"

Luo Runbo hung up.

Pei Wencong spun in his office chair, sighing regretfully: "Don't be greedy. Contentment brings happiness."

Pei Wencong wasn't afraid of losing the four million U. . dollars—he regretted having withdrawn too much money earlier.

When the Hang Seng dropped below 800 points, he'd set his sights on a mansion on Mount Taiping, so he cashed out early—missing out on later gains.

Then, with money in hand, he made impulsive purchases: bought his sister a BMW, bought an apartment in Central—spending a fortune.

Now, seeing Li Ye move again, he realized he had no capital left to follow.

Last time, following Li Ye in the Hang Seng trade, he'd invested just ten thousand Hong Kong dollars less than Li Ye.

But now, he was over half a million short—he'd fallen way behind.

(End of Chapter)