The Young Man from the Capital
"Fang Zhiyuan, president of the Jiangcheng Chamber of Commerce."
After saying that, Fang Zhiyuan did not get up immediately.
He picked up a dark business card holder from one side of the long table, drew out a card, and handed it to Lu Chuan.
The card was simple.
There was no jumble of titles. The front bore only his name, his position in the association, and a string of contact details. A faint seal was embossed on the back. The paper was unadorned, but felt substantial.
Lu Chuan accepted it with both hands and glanced at it.
"Mr. Fang."
"You can call me Uncle Fang." Fang Zhiyuan picked up his teacup, his tone still matter-of-fact. "The chamber of commerce is my public role. I also work on some cultural projects and have dealings with local collecting circles, exhibition halls, and auction houses. Jiangcheng isn't that big, and the cultural scene is even smaller. It's the same people going around in circles. You'll be studying here from now on. If you really run into trouble, you don't necessarily have to take the long way around on your own."
Those words carried considerable weight.
The fact that he could say "trouble" so casually showed that he really did have people he could call on. He wasn't showing off or trying to cozy up to Lu Chuan. He had put the offer on the table to see whether Lu Chuan would take it.
Lu Chuan put the card away and nodded.
"Thank you, Uncle Fang."
He said no more, nor did he grab the pole and start climbing.
Fang Zhiyuan felt even more at ease as he watched his reaction.
He had met plenty of young people. Some had a different look in their eyes the moment they heard he had a little influence. They would start pouring on the pleasantries, eager to cement the connection on the spot.
Lu Chuan wasn't like that. He was polite and knew his limits; he neither shrank back nor scrambled to climb the pole.
That attitude was all the more uncommon.
Fang Zhiyuan set down his teacup and asked what seemed like a casual question.
"Where's your hometown?"
Lu Chuan didn't hide it.
"The Capital."
Fang Zhiyuan raised his eyes.
"You came to Jiangcheng for school?"
"Yeah," Lu Chuan said. "I'm going to university in Jiangcheng, so I'm getting a place to live settled first."
Fang Zhiyuan didn't respond.
He gave Lu Chuan a long, searching look.
He was from the Capital.
He had just turned eighteen.
He could come up with several million for a down payment and drove a white Continental GT with the plate Jiang A·54321. Buying a twenty-million-yuan house had been like sitting down for a meal, and the reason he took out a loan was to preserve cash flow.
Most importantly, he was very down-to-earth.
He had none of the impatience of someone who had just come into money, nor did he deliberately conceal things.
He didn't say much, but everything he said was just right.
Fang Zhiyuan had met young people like him over the years, but most of them weren't in Jiangcheng.
He naturally pieced a few things together in his mind.
From the Capital.
Young.
Money in hand.
Didn't pretend to know what he didn't.
And on top of that, he had an air of someone in no hurry to prove himself.
Fang Zhiyuan had almost made up his mind.
He wasn't a child an ordinary family could have raised.
He wasn't a nouveau riche, nor was he simply a young man who had gotten lucky, come into a sum of money, and dared to spend it recklessly. He seemed more like someone from a well-connected family in the Capital. The manners and breadth of vision instilled in him from childhood couldn't be faked, and his family had given him plenty of money and a fallback.
That was why Lu Chuan was so perceptive.
He knew when to leave things unsaid, when to hold back, and where to draw the line.
The more Fang Zhiyuan observed him, the more certain he became that his judgment was right.
The ease about Lu Chuan didn't seem learned.
If he were putting on an act, the seams would show.
Yet from viewing the house to signing the contract, and then sitting here drinking tea just now, there had been nothing out of place about him. Rather, he seemed accustomed to such situations from childhood.
At that thought, Fang Zhiyuan found himself feeling a little like an elder looking upon a junior.
"After studying in Jiangcheng for a few years, you'll be half a local yourself." He smiled. "From now on, whether it's something at school or something you need to do outside, you can come to me, as long as it isn't too far out of line."
These were no longer mere pleasantries.
He had genuinely opened the door a crack.
Lu Chuan understood and knew where the goodwill came from, but he didn't use Fang Zhiyuan's words to curry favor.
"All right. If I really do run into something, I won't stand on ceremony with you."
Fang Zhiyuan smiled when he heard that.
No empty refusals, no claiming connections at random, and no pretending to be above it all.
He stood up, walked over to the living room wall, and glanced at the calligraphy. Then he turned and pointed to the paperweight and inkstone on the long table, along with several old calligraphy scrolls rolled up beside them.
"I was originally planning to take these things with me."
Lu Chuan looked up.
Fang Zhiyuan continued, "But now that I think about it, there doesn't seem to be much point in taking them."
Lu Chuan glanced at the calligraphy on the wall.
"They're too valuable."
"No need to stand on ceremony." Fang Zhiyuan waved a hand.
With that, he patted Lu Chuan on the shoulder.
"Keep them. Consider them a housewarming gift."
Lu Chuan fell silent for a moment, but accepted the gift in the end.
"Thank you, Uncle Fang."
"All right." Fang Zhiyuan put down his teacup. "I'll have the bank coordinate with you on the loan disbursement and handover. If you need anything, call me directly."
With that, he wasted no more time. He picked up his car keys and headed out.
The door closed, and the house fell completely quiet.
Standing in the living room, Lu Chuan first walked over to the window and looked downstairs.
Then he turned, sat down on the dark gray sofa, took out his phone, and opened his banking app.
He had to recalculate his finances.
Starting funds: ten million.
The Continental GT had cost 2.8 million.
Today at Quiet Garden, the thirty-percent down payment, plus deed tax, the maintenance fund, miscellaneous fees, and some earlier procedural expenses, had tied up another 6.6 million or so.
Lu Chuan stared at the balance for several seconds.
A little over 600,000.
When he had just received his demolition compensation in his previous life, that amount hadn't even been enough in his eyes to put together a decent gathering.
Because back then, he had spent money to keep up appearances.
The more he spent, the more anxious he became.
But things were different now.
He had less money, but he had a house and a car, and the foundation of his life was in place.
A little over 600,000 wasn't much.
But it wasn't a dead end, either.
Lu Chuan lowered his phone a little and leaned back on the sofa, without a trace of panic over his dwindling balance.
What truly made people feel insecure had never been having less money in their accounts, but failing to turn that money into useful things.
Still, he couldn't put things off any longer.
Making some quick money had to go on the agenda as soon as possible.
The sky darkened bit by bit.
The light in the living room slowly changed color. The last layer of sunlight outside the window faded, and the glass reflected half the room.
Lu Chuan got up, took his computer out of his bag, set it on the long table, plugged it in, and turned it on.
Quiet Garden hadn't been fully handed over yet, but the internet worked.
Once the page loaded, he clicked into the news, planning to look at the financial stories from the past few days and check the timing.
As soon as he connected to the internet, a news flash popped up in the lower-right corner.
The headline was short, but it caught Lu Chuan's eye at once.
-Sudden upheaval in an oil-producing country in the Middle East; unusual movement in the international crude oil market.
Lu Chuan stared at the line and tapped his fingers lightly on the table twice.
He had finally been waiting for this news.