The Exposed "Rich Second Generation"

[The author had grown tired of those noisy tycoon novels where fortunes ran into the trillions at the drop of a hat, and wanted to try writing something different.]

[Before reading this book, please gently remove your brain and place it in the bamboo basket by the door.]

[There's no need to worry about losing it. There are no business battles that require you to rack your brains, no insufferable relatives who make you grind your teeth in anger, and no villains who flip-flop back and forth.]

[There is only a person living his life a second time, using all his time to prove one thing: when a person lives earnestly, he is light itself.]

[All right, the bamboo basket is securely in place.]

[Let's begin.]

In a private room on the top floor of the Cloud Summit Club, the lighting was warm, but the atmosphere was somewhat chilly.

Lu Chuan sat in the very center, the watch on his wrist reflecting a subtle glint of metal.

His car key lay beside him, its black leather case resting next to a coaster.

He had carefully calculated his choice of seat.

It made him look casual, yet kept him conspicuous enough.

Over the past three years, he had become quite good at putting on this kind of "casual" display.

Lu Chuan never rushed to speak, but whenever others talked about sports cars, wineries, or any kind of high-end gathering, he could always chime in with a well-placed remark or two.

He never showed off outright, either, but every time, he revealed just the right details to remind everyone else that he was no ordinary student.

Lu Chuan knew perfectly well that he had not been born to belong in a place like this.

But so what?

He had money and guts, and most importantly, he had a good head on his shoulders.

Three years ago, the compensation for his house's demolition had landed in Lu Chuan's account.

He had looked at that dazzling string of zeros in his bank account.

And realized.

Fate had given him a trump card.

This was heaven making it up to him!

He refused to be ordinary for the rest of his life.

Still less could he accept squeezing onto the subway after graduation and watching his boss's face for a fixed paycheck.

So he decided to take a different path.

First, he would package himself as a rich second-generation heir and work his way into circles of people with real money and resources.

Once he got in, learned the ropes, and made connections,

whether he started a project of his own or followed others and got a taste of the soup,

either choice would be far faster than climbing his way up step by step.

Of course.

Making money was not Lu Chuan's only reason for doing this.

He admitted it.

He enjoyed the envious looks people gave him.

He enjoyed being called "Young Master Lu" even more.

And he enjoyed the feeling of crossing class lines from ordinary person most of all.

Money, connections, face.

He wanted them all!

And over the past three years, his act had grown more and more convincing.

Someone in the room brought up a recently opened private club, discussing its membership requirements and the boss behind it. Lu Chuan held his glass and listened with an easy expression.

He smiled now and then, as if this news, so far removed from ordinary people, was nothing more than everyday entertainment to him.

Suddenly.

A young man sitting opposite Lu Chuan smiled.

"Brother Lu, that McLaren you drove last time was nice. Which model was it again?"

Lu Chuan's heart tightened, but his face remained impassive.

"Just a car to get around in. I didn't pay much attention."

As soon as Lu Chuan finished speaking, two people in the room exchanged a glance.

Chen Ziang, reclining on the sofa, lifted his head.

He had said little that night and was clearly distracted.

But Lu Chuan knew that people like him were the hardest to deal with.

He did not join in when others made a fuss. He was used to watching for flaws in the details, and could tell whether someone was putting on an act or really had something to back it up.

Chen Ziang picked up his glass, slowly turning it with his fingertips, and smiled at Lu Chuan.

"You really are getting more and more convincing."

Lu Chuan's movements paused for a moment.

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing. I just suddenly thought you were pretty interesting."

Chen Ziang looked at him.

"I first met you in our freshman year."

"You offered to treat everyone. You looked a little awkward, but you ordered the right wine and paid the bill without hesitation."

"But after the waiter left, you sneaked a look at your phone. You were checking how much the meal cost, weren't you?"

The room fell silent.

The corner of Lu Chuan's mouth twitched.

"You're pretty observant."

"Can't help it."

Chen Ziang's smile vanished.

"You tried too hard. It was difficult not to notice."

The air froze at once.

Zhao Yifan, sitting beside Chen Ziang, frowned.

He opened his mouth, seemingly about to say something, but closed it again in the end.

Chen Ziang set down his glass, his tone mild, as if he were working through a problem he had already checked many times over.

"I had someone take a look. That watch of yours is genuine."

"The fact that you can buy a genuine watch means you really do have some money."

Chen Ziang stared into Lu Chuan's eyes.

"And none of the cars you drive are cheap, but every time, they happen to appear right when you need to make the biggest show."

"Birthday parties, cocktail parties, gatherings within gatherings—the car's there at the start, and once it's over, the car disappears."

Chen Ziang swept his gaze over Lu Chuan again.

"What you care about most is whether other people see how expensive your things are."

He lifted his chin toward the key beside Lu Chuan.

"Like this. Every time you sit down, you have to put your key somewhere people can see it at a glance."

At that moment, someone in the room could not hold back a laugh.

The laughter made Lu Chuan feel awful.

Chen Ziang ignored it.

"At first, we really weren't sure what to make of you. We didn't know where you came from."

"After all, the watch was genuine, and you weren't stingy with your money."

"At first, we even guessed that your family might be in some sensitive line of business."

"Or that your dad was the kind of boss who couldn't show his face."

Chen Ziang leaned forward.

"But later, I realized things weren't the way I thought."

"People whose families really have a solid foundation don't constantly think about proving it."

"They can't be bothered to prove it, and they don't need to."

A layer of cold sweat had already formed on Lu Chuan's back.

At last, someone beside him spoke up.

"To put it bluntly, we weren't interested in looking into you at first."

"You like putting on airs, but maybe you really did come from somewhere. We figured we'd wait and see."

Another person laughed too.

"Who knew you'd get more and more ridiculous?"

"You have to sit in the center for photos whenever we eat or drink, and your car key and watch have to go in the most eye-catching spot on the table. Those are minor things. We can put up with them."

"But when other people are talking about projects and you don't understand, can't you stop forcing yourself into the conversation?"

"Brother Lu, the most annoying thing isn't that you pretend to be rich. It's that you barely understand anything but pretend you do."

Once those words were spoken, the atmosphere in the room changed completely.

Lu Chuan felt as if he had been held up and roasted under a lamp.

Zhao Yifan finally spoke.

"All right, that's enough."

His voice was not loud, and though his tone was mild, the room fell silent at once.

Zhao Yifan was Lu Chuan's roommate, and a genuine rich second-generation heir.

He never put on airs or flaunted his wealth on social media.

He usually kept a low profile.

But with a single phone call, he could have things thoroughly taken care of.

There was not a trace of mockery in the way he looked at Lu Chuan, only an indescribably complicated expression.

"I've hinted at it to you many times."

"You've sunk several million into this by now, haven't you?"

"Wouldn't it be better to use that money to do something worthwhile?"

Lu Chuan's face visibly turned pale. His dry lips parted, but in the end, he could not utter a single word.

Zhao Yifan sighed.

"Did you think that as long as you pretended to be one of us and got into the circle, you could make money through your connections?"

Lu Chuan abruptly raised his head.

In that instant, he felt as if someone had stripped him on the spot.

Because Zhao Yifan was right.

That was exactly what he had been thinking.

First, he would pretend to be a rich second-generation heir and get into the circle, then find a way to turn his fake identity into real resources.

As long as he could get in on a project and meet capable people,

he only needed to seize one opportunity to turn his life around.

As for all the money he had put in at the start, that was just the price of admission.

Zhao Yifan looked at him, his voice growing even quieter.

"But have you thought about it?"

"You're not fitting into the circle. You're spending your life on it at a loss."

"Every sum you spend now is just to make other people think more highly of you."

"But that so-called regard isn't worth a thing."

Lu Chuan sat stiffly on the sofa, a buzz ringing in his head.

He suddenly remembered last month.

He had spent more than six hundred thousand yuan to attend a private cocktail party.

Before that,

to cover the rent on a sports car, he had juggled several credit cards, robbing Peter to pay Paul;

and earlier still,

afraid his act would be exposed, he had even signed up for etiquette and red wine classes.

He had always believed he was investing in his future.

But now that Zhao Yifan had exposed it so calmly, he finally came to his senses.

The harder he had tried to squeeze his way in over the past few years, the deeper he had sunk, and the harder he would ultimately fall.

Chen Ziang glanced at Lu Chuan and calmly twisted the knife.

"We planned to lay everything out today."

"You've been too annoying lately."

"You show up at every gathering and put on airs with everyone. We're clearly not the same kind of people, but you insist on acting as if you're just like us."

"We didn't expose you, not because your act was good, but because we really couldn't be bothered to hold it against you."

"But if you keep pretending like this, sooner or later something will go wrong."

Lu Chuan slumped on the sofa as if someone had suddenly pulled all the bones out of him.

No one in the room laughed, and no one banged on the table or kicked up a fuss.

Yet those few words from Chen Ziang, neither loud nor soft, neither harsh nor gentle, were more humiliating to Lu Chuan than an outright insult.

Because they were not looking at some enormous joke.

They were looking at a person who could still turn back, yet insisted on making his life into a joke.

Zhao Yifan took out his phone and pushed it in front of him.

On it was a summary of his spending.

Cars, watches, gatherings, gifts, memberships, drinks, clothes, and all sorts of miscellaneous expenses—he had laid them all out clearly in chronological order.

The number in the total column was already approaching eight figures.

Lu Chuan stared at the string of numbers, his breathing growing tighter by the moment.

So he had burned through that much money over the past three years.

All for a few drinking parties.

For a few people calling him "Young Master Lu."

For an illusion that had never belonged to him.

Zhao Yifan looked at Lu Chuan and offered one last piece of advice.

"If you're smart, stop now."

The private room was deathly quiet.

Lu Chuan hung his head, the summary sheet before his eyes gradually growing blurry.

For the first time, he didn't think about how to smooth things over, and for the first time, he lacked the strength to maintain his carefree facade.

It wasn't that he had nearly made it into their circle.

He had burned himself hollow.

After that night, Lu Chuan's carefully crafted persona finally collapsed.

He couldn't keep it up himself.

Over the next ten years, he moved through many cities and worked many different jobs.

He lived in a sorry state, but with clear eyes.

But whenever he thought back to his college years, he wished he could strangle his younger self.

Late one night when he was thirty-one, he was heading home after working overtime. As he passed an intersection, his phone screen still showed a photo sent by an old classmate.

Someone had commented below it.

-Heard Young Master Lu stopped putting on an act.

Someone else replied.

-It's not that he stopped. He just couldn't afford to keep it up.

Lu Chuan stood in front of the crosswalk, staring at those two lines, and suddenly laughed.

He laughed because he deserved it.

And because he had realized it too late.

The next second, blinding high beams suddenly shone in his direction.

An out-of-control Dayun truck came straight at him.