The Terrifying Ability to Make Money

In this life, after graduating from college, Zhang Hao found a job in this provincial capital, a second-tier city, but he quit not long after. He had studied design and could take on plenty of freelance design work, so he had no trouble supporting himself. If he landed a larger project, the pay was quite good—better than what he made at a regular job, anyway.

He never could have imagined he'd have such terrible luck today. He had no idea who was behind it, or how they could possibly have such incredible reach.

Zhang Hao suddenly froze. He noticed the sell orders that had been stacked against the stock's lower limit were rapidly dwindling. His heart gave a little jump as a thought flashed through his mind: Eight minutes!

Ten minutes later!

The junk stock suddenly took off, shooting straight up almost in a line.

Zhang Hao stared in disbelief. In less than five minutes, the junk stock had hit the upper limit—a twenty-percent gain, earning him more than six hundred thousand yuan. From the lower limit straight to the upper limit!

From rock bottom to heaven!

Clutching his chest, Zhang Hao's face went from pale to red. He felt like his heart was about to leap out of his mouth. This was way too damn exciting! He'd seen stocks go from the lower limit to the upper limit before, but then he'd been watching from the sidelines. It was a beautiful sight, but it wasn't his money. This time was completely different. He'd gone all in, and the stock had shot straight from the lower limit to the upper limit!

"How is this possible? Am I dreaming?" Zhang Hao muttered. He simply couldn't believe it.

A line of text appeared on his phone.

Nothing is impossible, and you're not dreaming! Just a reminder: of the money you make... I get seventy percent, and you get thirty!

Zhang Hao's mouth fell open, and he couldn't say a word. So that was what "seventy-thirty" meant. In other words, of the more than six hundred thousand yuan in profit, the other party would get over four hundred thousand, while he'd be left with nearly two hundred thousand.

Zhang Hao didn't even feel like arguing over that. Even thirty percent seemed like a lot to him. They'd made nearly two hundred thousand in less than half an hour. He was truly shaken.

"Fine, fine. If we lose money, we use the same split!" Zhang Hao reacted quickly, immediately bringing up the unfavorable scenario to avoid any arguments later. By now, he'd completely forgotten about calling the police or anything like that. He was simply dying to know who this person was. They were practically a super nice person.

The main question was, did nice people like this even exist? Was this some kind of joke?

"Who are you? I'm serious—who are you?" Zhang Hao asked, this time in an unusually solemn voice.

He really wanted to get to the bottom of it. Who had pulled off this elaborate prank? More than anything, he couldn't understand how this person could control his computer and phone so thoroughly, or how they could have such a precise read on the stock market. It took a special kind of nerve to go all in like that—not something just anyone could do.

Zhang Hao picked up the Coke on his desk and took a big gulp. Everything that had just happened had left his mouth dry. He needed a drink to calm himself down.

Suddenly, an electronic tune rang out, followed by a childish voice.

I'm a little honeybee, a tiny little honeybee... Flying here and there is such fun, such fun...

Pfft!

A mouthful of Coke sprayed out.

Coughing as he set down the can, Zhang Hao suddenly understood. The other party had no intention of telling him anything.

What an obnoxious jerk! But considering they could make money, who they were didn't matter. The money was in his account, after all. If they wanted their share, they'd have to give him an account number. With that thought, Zhang Hao calmed down.

Zhang Hao teased, "You're a little honeybee? Fine, then. I'll call you Little Bee."

Two red characters appeared on the phone screen.

Mi Feng!

You can call me Mi Feng.

Mi Feng and "honeybee" sounded nearly the same in Chinese, so Zhang Hao knew the guy was talking nonsense. Still, nonsense or not, he had no choice but to go along with it. Otherwise, he wouldn't even know the other party's name.

"Mi Feng, how do I give you your share of the money? Should I get an account number?"

A line of text scrolled across the phone screen.

Just leave it in your account. If I need to use it, I'll find a way. Besides, this is only the beginning! Why are you in such a hurry?

Zhang Hao thought it over, then said, "Could you... stop controlling my devices? I can't use my phone or computer..."

Sure. But let me make one thing clear: even if you reinstall your system or buy a new computer or phone, I'll show up all the same. Any resistance is futile, and it'll only make you more anxious. Since we've agreed to work together, you have no choice. And if we really end this partnership, you're the one who'll lose out—not me!

Zhang Hao was at a loss for words, but he knew the other party had a point. For one thing, they could make money in the stock market. Even if he only got thirty percent, he'd still be making a fortune.

"Got it. We're partners, then! Mi Feng, here's to a pleasant partnership!"

Zhang Hao was decisive. If he couldn't fight back, he might as well enjoy the money-making. Honestly, who wouldn't agree to a deal like that?

The moment that thought crossed his mind, Zhang Hao realized he could use his phone again. He opened his computer, and it was working too!

Slumping into his chair, Zhang Hao picked up the Coke and downed it in one go. He sat there in a daze for a full half hour before finally coming around. Then he quickly opened the stock-trading program on his computer and checked his account. Sure enough, it hadn't been a dream. The red profit figure was still there.

In all the time he'd been trading stocks, he'd never made so much money in less than half an hour. In the past, whenever he made tens of thousands of yuan on a stock, he couldn't resist selling some of his shares. There was no way he'd ever made hundreds of thousands in one go. This time was simply beyond belief! Everything about it was so unreasonable, so bizarre. As he thought it over, one question kept coming back to him: who was this person?

Zhang Hao was a homebody who hardly ever went out. Most of his friends were online, and his hometown was a Small City in the south. His parents had died in a horrific car accident while he was in college, so after graduation, he'd stayed in the city where he'd studied. Apart from a few close college classmates, he had almost no friends.

He didn't have many friends, but he knew plenty of people. Since he took on design work, he'd gotten to know quite a few people. He even had a few people whose sole job was to find him projects, like agents. He paid them a set fee for every design job they brought him. After seven or eight years, he'd built up his own network.

Zhang Hao currently lived on the outskirts of the city, in an old residential complex. He'd bought an old, secondhand apartment—one of those rundown little places people called "old, broken, and small." It was only a little over fifty square meters, with two bedrooms and a living room, plus a kitchen and bathroom. It hadn't cost much when he bought it, partly because it was on the seventh floor. The old building had no elevator, so the top-floor apartments were cheaper.

The south-facing room was the largest, at twelve square meters, with a small balcony. Zhang Hao used it as his workspace. The north-facing room was less than eight square meters. Once he'd squeezed in a large bed, there wasn't much room left. That was his bedroom.

The living room was small too. It held only a dining table, two wooden chairs, and a fridge. There wasn't much furniture in the apartment, and it was neat and clean. He didn't own many things, but everything was carefully arranged.