Chen Mo lifted the punishment from him. Without waiting for the bald man to recover, he grabbed the fellow by the neck with one hand, set him on a chair, then turned on a computer on his desk and entered a website. Once it loaded, he said, "Transfer all the money into this account."
"Your own money, and all the money you know about!"
The account he had opened was naturally not Chen Mo's, but that of an international women's and children's relief fund. It was quite famous, and Chen Mo had known about it back when he was in school.
When he was at school, someone had once used its name to call on the students to donate. At the time, Chen Mo and his dormmates had not believed it and thought something was off, so they had specifically looked into it. The results showed that it was indeed legitimate; neither the website nor the account had any problems.
As a result, many students had donated some money when the call went out. It was not much, merely their way of contributing.
But he had not donated. Not just to this cause—whether in college or at any other time, whenever he came across a donation drive, he had never taken part. It was not that he had not wanted to donate; he had simply been truly poor back then and had not donated a single cent.
Later, after returning home, he had made money, but he still had not donated, because that money had been earned by his own hands.
Later still, he earned more and more, but he would rather donate to domestic organizations than spend any thoughts on donating to these international ones.
It was not because he lacked compassion. Domestic causes still could not be helped