Chapter 6 The Bet

Chapter 6: The Bet

Fewer people were at the brokerage today than in previous days. Jiang Luo found it odd. After breakfast, he completed his trades at the counter, then returned to his seat and asked an auntie beside him, "Sister, is today a holiday? There aren't many people here."

The auntie replied, "Yesterday was 'I Wish I Could Die from the Drop Day,' so of course, there aren't many people today."

"It plunged from 72 to 51. My underwear's practically gone. Naturally, fewer people would show up today."

Only then did Jiang Luo realize that after he had left early yesterday afternoon, just before the trading hall closed, Feile and Yanzhong had plummeted.

It was important to remember that there was no such thing as a daily limit on stock declines back then. Stocks could fall without any bottom—aside from the impossibility of dropping to zero, any kind of decline was possible.

Jiang Luo let out an "Oh," feeling rather indifferent.

Stocks were like that. When he first started playing the stock market in his previous life, he had also lost money, paying over a million in "tuition fees."

What about Jiang Luo's stocks?

The Vacuum Tube stocks he bought fluctuated, but the overall price was still rising.

He had bought and sold several times, hardly ever losing money—he'd profited on every trade.

It was just that his principal was small, so his gains were limited.

Of course, this "limited" was only relative to the stock market and himself.

Compared to the average person's monthly salary of three to five hundred, earning a few hundred a day was already quite substantial—enough to keep an ordinary family living comfortably.

Not long after, Jiang Luo bought some fruit, then slouched lazily in the hall, legs crossed, munching an apple while watching the stocks.

The people sitting around him changed several times. When another person took a seat nearby, they turned to look at Jiang Luo and struck up a conversation, "Hey, it's you."

Jiang Luo turned and saw it was the man with glasses who had given him his home phone number earlier.

The man with glasses sighed, "Feile and Yanzhong both dropped. I lost badly yesterday."

Jiang Luo took a bite of his apple. "Losing money's part of the game."

The man with glasses asked him, "Are you only buying Vacuum Tube?"

Jiang Luo tilted his chin toward the screen and said unhurriedly, "I'm just waiting for Yanzhong to drop a bit more so I can buy in."

The man with glasses was surprised. "Buy when it's rising, not when it's falling. It's already like this—you still dare to buy?"

"Yeah."

Jiang Luo’s expression and tone were relaxed and natural. His composure, paired with his youthful face, gave him an air of calm arrogance. "If it's got the nerve, let it go negative."

The man with glasses understood. "You think Yanzhong will rise later?"

Jiang Luo hummed in agreement.

The man with glasses asked, "Why?"

"No reason in particular."

Jiang Luo said, "I'm just playing around."

Of course, he wouldn't reveal that when he started playing stocks in his previous life, he had deliberately studied all the "Old Eight Stocks" and knew that Yanzhong would be suspended from trading a few years later.

In his eyes, each of these early stocks was still in an extremely unstable "wild west phase."

During this phase, investors were also impulsive, buying stocks with no strategy.

Jiang Luo’s buying and selling, his trades were all gut calls, without any particular skill or depth.

The drop in Yanzhong yesterday made him suspect that someone was selling off large quantities, short-selling Yanzhong.

If Yanzhong didn't want to see its stock price fall further and risk letting down shareholders, it would naturally find a way to step into the secondary market to remedy the situation.

Sure enough, by the afternoon, Yanzhong’s stock price began to rise.

But at this point, many people in the hall were already selling Yanzhong at a loss at the counter, too afraid to take the risk and potentially lose even more.

Jiang Luo stood up, decisively grabbed a trading slip, and went to the counter to buy Yanzhong.

Meanwhile, Jiang Jianmin, Zhang Xiangping, Zhao Guangyuan, and Su Lan—all four of them—were worried and looking for Jiang Luo but couldn't find him.

Jiang Jianmin and Zhang Xiangping were anxious because they didn't know how to face Su Lan and the others—after all, Jiang Luo was someone else's own son.

Zhao Guangyuan and Su Lan were truly worried, afraid that something might have happened to their biological son.

Zhao Shuo, after receiving a call and hearing about the situation, also came over.

The five of them discussed where Jiang Luo might have gone. Jiang Jianmin couldn't help but grumble, "That brat really knows how to cause trouble!"

Su Lan and the others heard it. Though they didn't say anything, they were inwardly displeased with Jiang Jianmin and his family.

Zhao Shuo drove Su Lan and Zhao Guangyuan home. Sitting in the back seat, Su Lan couldn't hold back anymore. "The child is missing, and his family says things like that."

"Besides, it's been days since he didn't come home, and they only noticed now."

"It's clear they don't care about Jiang Luo at all!"

Su Lan was heartbroken. "We raised Ming Ming so well, yet they treat my biological son like this. I really wonder if I committed some sin in my past life to have to go through this and be disgusted by people like them."

Zhao Guangyuan, sitting in the passenger seat, summed it up in one sentence: "What's the use talking to a family like theirs? They have no decency."

He added, "Once we bring Jiang Luo back, we'll arrange for him to start working."

"The child is only 18, not 28. With the right guidance, he'll surely grow up to be a good kid, just like Ming Ming."

Zhao Shuo then asked, "Where could he have gone? Have we checked the dance club?"

Su Lan replied, "We did. The people at Oriental No. 1 said Jiang Luo had been there a few nights ago, but last night we waited at the dance club and never saw him. The employees there also said they hadn't seen him."

Su Lan was worried sick. "Where could he be?"

"Do you think he might have hurt himself?"

"Maybe he feels like his life was stolen from him and is full of bitterness..."

"Mom!"

Zhao Shuo, driving the car, frowned. "Ming Ming didn't steal anything from Jiang Luo. Ming Ming is innocent in this too."

"I'm not saying Ming Ming is at fault."

Su Lan said, "I'm talking about Jiang Luo. I'm worried he might act recklessly. That child clearly has a proud nature. Could he be thinking that he should have been the one going to Fudan University, but because of the mix-up, Ming Ming got to go instead?"

Zhao Shuo mumbled, "Can he even get in?"

That one sentence, and the car went quiet.

Because Zhao Guangyuan and Su Lan also felt that Zhao Mingshi's admission to Fudan University was his own achievement, and it didn’t necessarily mean that if there hadn’t been a mix-up, Jiang Luo would have been as obedient and successful as Zhao Mingshi.

After all, they had all witnessed Jiang Luo's current "downfall."

"You didn't get much sleep last night, did you?"

Zhao Shuo didn't say more about Jiang Luo. As he drove, he added, "I’ll drive you home, and then I’ll drive around looking for him."

He continued, "He doesn't have any money on him, so it’s unlikely he went far. Maybe he’s at some other dance club or arcade, just someplace we don’t know about."

"I’ll look for him. Mom, Dad, don’t worry."

After dropping off Su Lan and Zhao Guangyuan, Zhao Shuo did as he said and started searching for Jiang Luo around the entertainment venues near the Second Silk Factory.

As he searched, he was getting annoyed, thinking Jiang Luo might be doing this on purpose, deliberately making them worry.

Zhao Shuo also thought to himself: When I find him, I’ll have to really ask him why he ran away.

If there’s no good reason, as his older brother, I’ll really have to give him a stern talking-to.

Deep down, Zhao Shuo felt that Jiang Luo simply couldn’t compare to Zhao Mingshi—in every way, but especially in character.

Meanwhile, just before the trading hall closed in the afternoon, Yanzhong shot up sharply. The investors in the trading hall were shocked and rushed to the counter to buy Yanzhong before closing.

What was Jiang Luo doing at this time?

He was making a "bet" with the bespectacled man.

The bespectacled man thought that even though Yanzhong had risen now, it would still fall when the market opened the next day. It was unstable, so he wouldn’t buy—not for the world.

Jiang Luo said to him, "You’ve already sold out, right? Lend me ten thousand yuan. I’ll write you an IOU, and I’ll buy."

"If it goes up, I’ll split the profit with you."

"If it falls, it’s all on me. I’ll still pay back the ten thousand."

The bespectacled man was skeptical.

Jiang Luo: "Don’t trust me? I’ll give you my ID as collateral."

"Plus, if I make a profit, I’ll give you half. If I lose, it’s on me. You're taking no risk at all."

The bespectacled man wasn’t foolish: "If you lose, how will you pay me back?"

"Your ID card can’t be cashed."

Jiang Luo pulled out the transaction slip for the vacuum electronics stock he had bought from his pocket and handed it over: "I still have this, don’t I?"

"If Yanzhong really wipes me out, I’ll use this to pay you back."

The bespectacled man was tempted.

He couldn’t help but be tempted. He had already sold his house and divorced to play the stock market—he was a gambler through and through, with that gambling instinct right there.

Jiang Luo accurately seized on this, knowing he could squeeze a bit more "start-up capital" out of the bespectacled man.

Sure enough, the bespectacled man gritted his teeth, took out the money from his bag, and motioned to Jiang Luo: "Give me your ID and write the IOU!"

Jiang Luo smiled. Just like that, he had the money again.

So, with people watching, Jiang Luo took paper and pen, knelt by a chair, and wrote an IOU on the spot—borrowing ten thousand, promising to split any profit half and cover any losses himself—then handed over his ID card.

The bespectacled man took Jiang Luo’s ID card, originally just glancing at it to see Jiang Luo’s name. But when he saw that Jiang Luo was born in 1971, making him just eighteen this year, he was shocked.

"You’re only eighteen? Didn’t you say you were thirty?!"

The bespectacled man blurted out.

Someone nearby took the ID card from the bespectacled man’s hand to look. Seeing the birth year 1971, confirming he was indeed only eighteen, everyone was surprised and started discussing.

Jiang Luo had already taken the ten thousand and the transaction slip. Calmly smirking, he walked toward the counter.

Soon, someone exclaimed, "Hey, hey, it’s him! He’s eighteen, only eighteen, and he dares to buy stocks at this age. Doesn't his family care?"

And as Jiang Luo’s ID card was passed around, it eventually reached Huo Zongzhuo, who had just stepped out of the office and was standing at the edge of the crowd.

Huo Zongzhuo held the ID card up, glanced down at the name and date of birth, and quietly curled his lips.

He really is young, just turned eighteen.

He thought.

So his name is Jiang Luo—Luo, as in "fallen petals and flowing water."

Someone nearby also wanted to see, so Huo Zongzhuo let go, allowing the person to take the young man’s ID card.

Then Huo Zongzhuo turned, hands in his pockets, standing tall as he looked toward the young man squeezing into the counter not far away.

Quite bold, borrowing money to buy stocks at such a young age.

Huo Zongzhuo curled his lips into a light smile, his eyes gleaming with keen interest.

Not long after, when Jiang Luo returned from the counter and approached, Huo Zongzhuo looked at him and said in a calm, composed tone, "Want to bet with me? I’ll give you a hundred thousand."

Jiang Luo, who had been looking down at the transaction slip in his hand, lifted his head at the sound and looked at the man.