On the afternoon he was laid off for the fifth time, Lin Qian walked out of the office building with a cardboard box in his arms.
Someone in his former colleagues’ group chat laughed: “Even a master’s degree from a 211 university can’t beat a bad job market.”
He didn’t reply. The golden aura that had just awakened in his dantian was showing him another side of the world: golden halos around stock charts, colors on people that were impossible to tell apart as real or false, and a secret a fallen emperor had waited a thousand years to uncover.
The ancient inkstone his grandfather had protected at the cost of three broken ribs was quietly answering from his pocket.
Starting with 20,000 yuan, five straight days of limit-up stocks, then margin financing to snowball his gains.
At a family dinner in the old house, when his relatives started arranging for him to “get a meal” at his cousin’s company, he put down his chopsticks and said, “I was laid off. I’m trading stocks full-time. I made 38,000 last week.”
And this was only the beginning.
A hidden dragon awakens from the abyss. Those who looked down on him, those who owed his grandfather, those standing in his way
not one of them would get away.
