Chapter 29: Corporate Spy You are approved for arrest on suspicion of corporate espionage…

Chapter 29: Commercial Espionage

You are being charged with commercial espionage…

Getting the advance payment wasn’t the end of Qin Zixian’s problems. It took some effort, but he finally managed to make contact with the mysterious buyer.

He received an encrypted email and got the requested quote.

Everything seemed to be going smoothly, but Qin Zixian still felt uneasy. He believed in being thorough, even when breaking the rules, so he secretly reached out to a freelance hacker and obtained the buyer's IP address.

After all, what if this was Xu Miaoli's revenge?

Luckily, the hacker from the freelance site was professional—completing the job in under 24 hours and even throwing in the phone number’s location for free. Definitely worth a five-star rating.

The buyer’s email IP was traced to Mexico, the phone number registered in Australia, and the previously provided bank account belonged to Hong Kong. Put together, the details made no sense at all.

But it was precisely that classic "three-burrow rabbit" approach that gave Qin Zixian a sense of security.

In his mind, that could only mean one thing—it had to be a real buyer.

Although he’d dabbled in some shady business over the years, someone like Tang Tang—a rich girl who hated complications—wouldn’t go to such lengths just to mess with him. As for Xu Miaoli, he didn’t think she had the skills. If she did, she wouldn’t have fallen into his trap in the first place.

Or maybe it was one of those classic North American scams.

But then again, what seasoned con artist would hand over $100,000 upfront? Even if it *was* a scam, he hadn’t spent a penny. Either way, he couldn’t lose.

From every angle, this looked like a stroke of insane luck. With cash practically falling into his lap, how could he say no?

Once he made up his mind, Qin Zixian’s confidence soared. Every day at work, he was looking for his chance.

Though he didn’t have direct access to clients’ investment accounts, he could access the internal system—not only reviewing Chenxing Capital’s past projects, but also pulling up several of Zhuang Shao’s latest project proposals.

Each time he opened a file, the words “Confidential” and “For Internal Use Only,” printed densely across the pages, made his heart race.

To him, those watermarked warnings weren’t just cold letters on a page—they were piles of crisp, tempting cash.

Now that he had the goods, he needed a safe way to transfer them.

The day after receiving the advance payment from Broadway, he tried a quick copy-and-paste using an external USB drive.

Copy, paste, unplug.

It worked perfectly.

Excited, he thought the remaining $200,000 was right there for the taking. He even started thinking about which bank to use to wire the money back home without triggering any anti-money laundering alarms.

That is, until he plugged the USB drive back into his computer, opened the files, and found everything had turned into complete nonsense.

Qin Zixian stared. Well, shit.

He’d been too trusting.

So he had to find another way. After failing to send the files via fax or email, he went with the oldest spy trick in the book—photography.

Chenxing Capital’s shared office wasn’t small, so for safety, he snapped photos piece by piece, building up his stash slowly.

A month later, just before spring break, he finally compiled all the photos and sent them to the mysterious buyer.

That same night, Qin Zixian threw a party, shelling out to rent a little bar in Brooklyn and inviting a bunch of his study-abroad buddies. He even sent an invitation to Tang Tang—but less than a minute later, the message got returned.

So it was true—he’d actually been blocked.

"Eh, now that I’m making bank, there’s no need to cling to one tree," Qin Zixian picked up a martini, grinning arrogantly. "Tang Tang’s nowhere near as successful as I am now. She’s just riding her parents’ coattails—unlike us hustlers, am I right?"

He raised his glass, gesturing for Cheng Dong to join him in a toast.

Cheng Dong hadn’t even wanted to come tonight. He’d pegged Qin Zixian’s act ages ago, but he couldn’t refuse the host’s enthusiasm and reluctantly showed up—though he had his own agenda.

"Damn right, what do trust-fund girls know about grinding? Swiping daddy’s card, maybe," Cheng Dong played along, knowing exactly how to pander to him, then smoothly steered toward his real purpose. "By the way, what are you up to these days? Last time you mentioned learning things on Wall Street these past few months? What kind of business is it? Think you could bring me in?"

Cheng Dong cocked a brow.

As former roommates, many of tonight’s attendees were familiar faces, but he was the only one who noticed something off about Qin Zixian.

His whole look had leveled up—way pricier. His suit and shoes were likely custom-made. The shirt was iffy, but that collar pin? Straight-up Gucci.

And dude was throwing cash around now.

Back when they had orchestrated that scandal to socially ruin Xu Miaoli, Qin Zixian had been too stingy to spend much. Now, though… he clearly had another source of income, yet hadn’t breathed a word about it to him.

Real classy, huh?

Even though the whole smear-campaign idea was *his* damn brainchild…

Of course, Qin Zixian had no intention of letting Cheng Dong in on it. Money’s all about who’s jealous—if he brought someone else into the scheme, fighting over scraps could mean lawsuits, making the whole thing pointless.

He decided to brush it off.

"How else? Just grinding like everyone else. You study finance—shouldn’t you know this? Finance—where eight out of ten NYC new-money clout chasers land. Me? Right place, right time—boss took a liking."

As soon as he finished, a couple starry-eyed freshmen nearby ate it up, their eyes shining with reverence, murmurs of awe rising around them.

—Wow! Qin’s *this* legit?

—Dude *bagged* a scholarship!

—But didn’t Senior Wei Ning post online saying justice would prevail, that there was something shady about his scholarship and his grades were faked?

—What shady? Just some chick hating, talking trash. The official notice hasn’t even come out yet, and she couldn’t wait…

Cheng Dong caught every word—and bam, plan formed.

He smirked to himself—knew exactly why Qin was flexing tonight. What else but showing off?

Cheng Dong had no intention of indulging him.

Others might not know, but as his former roommate, he had heard it all—through the walls, Qin Zixian’s wails begging his parents for money to retake courses, wailing like a widow at a wake.

Cheng Dong knew the higher the praise, the harder the fall. He planned to prop Qin Zixian up step by step, then tear him down in front of everyone.

"Right, maybe you’ll even become the student speaker for our graduating class! Think about it—top grades, handsome, sunny personality, and now a respectable Wall Street job? You’re basically living the dream!"

Qin Zixian fell for it, grinning smugly.

"Aw come on, I’m just sharing some tips with the juniors. Speaker? Nah, I’m not *that* guy~"

Behind him, a pack of starstruck undergrads lost it:

—Qin *lao*, stop playing!

— Not just a representative of overseas students, you could even be the speaker for the whole school! You might even end up in The New Yorker.

— Yeah! Later I’ll share your story with media back home—everyone needs more inspirational success stories like yours!

The group chatted on, their conversation shifting from get-rich dreams to the classic trifecta: luxury cars, yachts, and beautiful women.

“Hey, why didn’t you bring out a few girls? It’s just us guys—it’s not fun at all. If there were some beauties here, we could watch them sing and dance!”

“Right~ Should we call some now?”

Qin Zixian was already feeling the alcohol. Swept up by the younger guys’ excitement, he started riding the high of their admiration.

He staggered into the center of the room, thinking about Tang Tang’s recent dismissive attitude toward him. His face twisted with resentment.

Before everyone’s eyes, Qin suddenly snapped his fingers dramatically and shouted, “Call them! We *have* to get some beauties in here. Do you even know who I am now? Ever heard of the Wolf of Wall Street?”

The crowd burst into laughter.

“Money you earn legitimately *has* to be spent! Right, guys? So, want to follow me from now on?”

Another round of applause followed.

Under flickering neon lights, Cheng Dong leaned against the far end of the bar, finishing the last sip of his mojito. He only cared about making money—this crowd didn’t interest him at all.

He checked the time on the wall, let out a tired breath, and decided it was time to expose Qin Zixian’s hypocrisy.

“So—”

He barely got a word out before everyone turned to look at him, confusion written across their faces.

Cheng Dong: *Since when do people actually listen to me?*

Clearing his throat, he ignored the skepticism in their eyes and launched into his prepared speech: “Zixian, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask—”

But before he could finish, a body slammed into him from behind, nearly knocking him off balance.

“The hell? Watch where—” Cheng snapped, ready to lash out, but the words died in his throat when he saw two towering NYPD officers standing in front of him.

Suddenly, the music in the warehouse-style bar had cut out, leaving an eerie silence. Nobody dared make a sound. In the industrial space, only the flickering neon lights remained active.

Qin Zixian looked just as confused.

He turned to his fan club and muttered, “Which idiot brought something illegal? Man up and admit it! Don’t ruin the party for everyone!”

“Seriously, knowingly breaking the law? Have some decency!”

“Who messed up? Don’t get us involved!”

The freshmen, egged on by Qin, grumbled among themselves, nervous whispers spreading through the crowd.

The officers showed their badges to the manager, exchanged a few words, then cut to the chase and marched straight toward Qin.

“Officers, what’s this about? Looking for someone? Everyone here’s with me tonight—who knows, maybe I can help!”

Qin put on his host persona.

This was *his* event, and he needed to find the troublemaker ruining the vibe—preferably mess with them for kicks, to liven up his final semester abroad.

“Whoever screwed up, fess up now!”

The cops didn’t understand Chinese, but they weren’t wasting time with small talk. One flashed a warrant around for everyone to see.

Qin blinked: ?

When he didn’t react, the officers exchanged a glance, stepped forward, and slapped cuffs on him.

“Mr. Qin, you’re under arrest on suspicion of corporate espionage. Please come with us for questioning.”