1: Chapter 1 Daily Wealth Intelligence

Jiangcheng University.

The summer heat seemed to have its soul snatched away by the late-night cool breeze, quietly fading and leaving behind only the faint scent of old camphor trees.

Dim yellow streetlights hung from rusted utility poles. The faint hum of electricity, mixed with the occasional distant honk of a car, stretched Jiang Chen’s shadow, making it flicker long and short.

Jiang Chen had just finished four hours of his part-time job delivering food. His blue delivery uniform was mostly soaked with sweat, and the fabric at his neck and shoulders had long since stuck to his skin. A gust of evening wind blew past, sending ripples of chill through him.

"Not bad, I earned eighty today."

A satisfied smile played on the corners of Jiang Chen's mouth as he slowly trudged forward, his legs feeling as heavy as lead. A dull ache throbbed in his knees—old injuries from long hours of riding an electric scooter and frequently running up and down stairs to deliver meals.

Every step felt like being pricked by fine needles, the dull pain spreading throughout his body.

He didn't return to the school dormitory but instead turned into the deepest part of the back street, heading toward an old residential building.

The walls had long since peeled and crumbled, revealing the grey-blue bricks beneath. Green vines crawled over the corners, and the intermittent chirping of insects, mixed with the faint coughing of residents inside the building, made it appear even more dilapidated.

The entire building had no elevator, and the stairs were narrow and steep. He rented a single room on the seventh floor for only 150 yuan a month.

The landlady, an elderly woman, had seen him—a student working so hard all by himself—and felt pity for him, so she specifically gave him the lowest price.

It was more than half the price of the school dormitory fee, and it was convenient for his part-time jobs to help support his family without worrying about affecting his roommates.

The room was pitifully small, barely enough to fit a single bed, a broken desk with a cracked surface, and an old wardrobe with severely peeling paint.

The walls were covered in fine cracks, and a dim yellow light bulb hung from the ceiling. Its pull-cord was loose and would sway at the slightest touch, casting mottled shadows.

A few crumpled textbooks were stacked in a corner of the desk, their corners curled and filled with dense notes.

Beside them lay half a cold, leftover steamed bun, as hard as a rock. That was his dinner for tonight.

Every cent he saved had to be spent on his father's medical bills; he didn't dare spend a single penny more than necessary.

This was the only place in this vast city that Jiang Chen could afford, and the only place where he could drop his guard and find refuge.

Jiang Chen slumped onto the bed as if all his strength had left him. The bedboards let out a dull groan, as if echoing his exhaustion.

He pulled out his second-hand phone, its screen marred by a long, jagged crack.

An upperclassman had given it to him after upgrading upon graduation. The body was worn, the corners were dented, and the battery was in terrible condition.

It needed charging three or four times a day and would get hot after just a short while of use, but he couldn't bring himself to replace it. It was his only tool for contacting his family and receiving delivery orders.

As soon as the screen lit up, a red low-battery warning flashed glaringly.

Immediately after, a message from his mother popped up without warning.

"Xiao Chen, your dad hasn't been feeling well again these past few days. He can't sleep at night. The hospital says we need to pay another 3,800 yuan for tests and switch to a different imported medicine. I really can't scrape it together, can you..."

The rest of the message was left unsaid, the ellipsis trailing off like a series of endless sighs.

It hid his mother's unspeakable helplessness and despair, her struggle of not wanting to burden her son while having nowhere else to turn.

Jiang Chen's fingers were ice-cold and trembling slightly. He gripped the phone tightly, the edges of the screen digging into his palm and causing a sharp sting, but he couldn't feel it.

He knew his family's situation all too well.

Not long ago, his father had been hit by a car. Since it happened in a surveillance blind spot, the driver had fled and had yet to be found. With a fractured leg and internal organ bruising, his father was in the hospital for surgery and recovery.

His mother worked as a cleaner in their hometown's residential complex. Her monthly salary was less than 3,000 yuan. She was frugal to the extreme, refusing to buy new clothes or eat anything good.

She often ate steamed buns with pickles and stayed by his father's side day and night. She poured almost every penny into medical bills, but it was still far from enough.

And he, as the only university student in the family, was his parents' entire hope—the sole pillar of the household.

He didn't dare to rest, didn't dare to date, and didn't dare to socialize.

He didn't dare to be lazy for even a second. Whenever he had free time, he would deliver food, running from morning until late at night, accumulating two or three yuan, or three or four yuan per order.

Even if he was so tired he couldn't straighten his back, even if he was looked down upon or rushed by others, he didn't dare to stop.

He was afraid that if he stopped, his father would lose hope and the family would fall apart.

But this meager income was less than a drop in the bucket compared to his father's medical expenses.

Trembling, he opened his mobile banking app. Balance: 212.7 yuan.

Including the 80 yuan earned from tonight's deliveries, it was a total of 292.7 yuan.

He was still over 3,500 yuan short of the 3,800 yuan needed for his father's urgent tests.

It wasn't that he hadn't asked his relatives for help.

His aunt said their family had to pay for his younger brother's education and mortgage, and the pressure was too high; she was truly powerless. His uncle said his own business was losing money and he was buried in debt, barely able to save himself; even his words of comfort felt perfunctory.

Other relatives either pretended not to see or made various excuses to avoid him, fearing he would ask for money and that they would be dragged down by this impoverished family.

At that moment, he fully understood the fickleness of human relationships and the coldness of the world.

So-called relatives were only there to add to one's glory, but never willing to offer help in times of need.

Was he really going to watch his father's condition worsen step by step because they couldn't afford the tests or medicine, until he finally passed away?

Jiang Chen held his head in his hands and buried his face deep into his knees, stifling his sobs in his throat, not daring to make a sound.

He was the pillar of the family. He couldn't collapse. No matter how hard it was, he had to persevere.

Despair, like a rising tide, slowly submerged him.

He was not resigned to this!

He was only twenty!

He hadn't yet given his parents a single day of good life, hadn't had the chance to show them filial piety, hadn't escaped this damned poverty, and hadn't yet seen the beauty of the world.

Just as he was about to be completely swallowed by despair...

Exactly midnight.

The broken phone in his pocket, nearly out of battery, suddenly vibrated violently. The vibration was so strong that even his knees, where the phone rested, could feel it.

With only 5% battery left, the screen lit up instantly. There were no annoying ads, no extra pop-ups, and no junk notifications—it was eerily clean.

A line of golden text floated in the center of the screen out of nowhere. It couldn't be deleted or exited. The handwriting was neat and clear, emitting a faint glow.

[Ding! daily wealth intelligence has been activated]

[Today's Intelligence: 10:00 AM, Chengxin Second-hand Digital Store on the campus back street. The owner is in urgent need of money and is selling a batch of brand-new, unopened Android phones (low-to-mid-range models, suitable for students) at a package price of 10,000 yuan. Reselling them on the same day can yield a net profit of around 5,000 yuan. The transaction requires in-person inspection, and there are no disputes.]

Wealth Intelligence

Jiang Chen suddenly looked up, as if struck by lightning, his face filled with shock and disbelief.

He thought he was too tired and hallucinating, or that it was a glitch in his phone displaying garbled code. He rubbed his bloodshot eyes vigorously.

He looked down again.

That line of golden text still sat steadily on the screen, as clear as could be, with no sign of blurring or fading.

Ten thousand yuan for a batch of brand-new phones.

And a net profit of five thousand yuan by reselling them the same day?

This isn't a dream?

His heart began to race instantly. The intense thumping was exceptionally clear in the quiet room, as if it were about to burst through his chest.

Before the phone screen went dark, one last line of text slowly appeared.

[The window of opportunity is limited; please seize it yourself. Wealth belongs to those who are prepared, and even more so to those who dare to take action.]

A faint but burning hope erupted from the abyss of despair and grew wildly.

But in the next second, this hope was doused by a bucket of cold water, and he plunged back into the ice cellar.

Ten thousand yuan in capital.

Adding up everything he had, it wasn't even three hundred yuan—not even a fraction of the capital needed.

But he knew very well.

This was his only chance to save his father, his only hope to escape poverty and protect his family.

No matter how difficult it was, no matter what price he had to pay, he had to scrape together that ten thousand yuan.