We agreed not to date, so why are you crying now that I've become the richest man?

The autumn rain outside the window stopped in the latter half of the night, and at 6:30 in the morning, the sunlight slanted through the glass window of dormitory 417 and fell obliquely on the edge of the desk.

Ye Chen opened his eyes, threw off the covers, and stepped down the ladder of the iron bunk bed, without disturbing Sun Haoyu and Lu Wenbo, who were still snoring. The dark blue long-handled umbrella from last night still stood in the bucket on the balcony, the water droplets at its tip forming a small, shallow circle on the cement floor. Chen Zhiqiang's bed was neatly folded, indicating he had clearly gone off to deliver food or pick up part-time jobs outside of school early that morning.

After washing up, Ye Chen changed into a gray hooded sweatshirt and jeans, put his phone in his pocket, and quietly closed the dormitory door.

The morning air at the Minhang campus in mid-October was damp and cool, with a gentle breeze carrying a few pale yellow ginkgo leaves onto the main road. Ye Chen turned into **Dining Hall 1 (First Dining Building)** along the tree-lined path.

At this moment, steam rose from the various stalls in the lobby on the first floor, and students were scattered around eating. Ye Chen swiped his card at the breakfast window and ordered a steaming basket of fresh pork dumplings, a tea egg, and a bowl of plain soy milk. He then found a corner by the window and sat down with his tray.

The cafeteria was unusually quiet, with only the soft sounds of cleaning ladies wiping tables and chairs and the occasional sounds of food being served. Ye Chen finished his breakfast unhurriedly, drank the last mouthful of hot soy milk in his bowl, and felt a comforting warmth rise in his stomach.

After finishing breakfast, I glanced at my phone and saw that it was exactly 7:35 a.m.

Involving cross-border fund transfers and overall planning involving hundreds of millions of US dollars, a crowded dormitory and a noisy teaching building are not suitable; he needs a quiet and undisturbed environment.

After clearing away his food and leaving the restaurant, Ye Chen did not return to the dormitory area. Instead, he crossed the main road and strolled eastward toward the ecological wetland area behind Zhiyuan Lake.

Nestled against the eastern landscape forest, surrounded by dense metasequoia and camphor trees, this spot is rarely visited, even by students reading aloud in the early autumn mornings, as the thin mist lingers. Aside from the occasional sanitation worker sweeping fallen leaves, a wooden waterfront promenade leads to an antique-style stone pavilion half-hidden in the shade of trees, offering a wide view and making it easy to spot anyone approaching within dozens of meters.

Ye Chen walked into the stone pavilion and sat down on the clean, dry stone bench. A thin mist shrouded the surface of Zhiyuan Lake, and the cool morning breeze swept across the water, dispelling the last trace of drowsiness.

He took out his phone, glanced at the time—7:45—and casually dialed Li Zhiwei's Hong Kong Island number, holding it to his ear.

beep……

The call was answered instantly after just one ring.

Two thousand kilometers away in an office building in Central, Hong Kong Island, the blinds were tightly closed, and the central air conditioning hummed softly. Li Zhiwei, Ken, and Cheng had already changed into crisp shirts, each with a cup of black coffee in hand, sitting in front of the six-screen terminal. Hearing the call connect from the speakerphone, all three straightened their backs simultaneously, with Ken even reflexively placing his coffee cup on the corner of the table away from the keyboard.

After the rollercoaster ride of the last round of US cotton futures trading, from the brink of liquidation to a net profit of US$385 million, these three traders, who have been navigating the Hong Kong financial scene for many years, now only feel a deep-seated awe for the young boss on the other end of the phone.

The voice of Li Zhiwei, holding the microphone with both hands, came through the receiver, his tone even more respectful than last week:

"Mr. Ye, good morning! Everyone in Central is on duty. The dedicated line and the fund transfer interface of Standard Chartered's offshore master account have completed three verifications and are ready to place orders at any time!"

"Good morning, how have you been resting these past few days?" Ye Chen leaned against a pillar in the stone pavilion, gazing at the surface of Zhiyuan Lake.

After the previous round of US cotton clearing and delivery, the principal and interest in Standard Chartered Bank's offshore master account totaled US$549 million. In addition, there were more than US$21 million in reserve funds accumulated from the overseas revenue sharing of Star Interactive. All the data was clear in his mind—a total of US$570 million in cash.

"Thanks to Ye Sheng, the brothers have been sleeping soundly these past few days and are full of energy!" Li Zhiwei quickly replied. Aken and Acheng next to him also leaned closer to the microphone to say hello, their breathing revealing a sense of tension.

Ye Chen didn't exchange any more pleasantries; his tone was calm yet carried an undeniable air of control.

"Now that you're refreshed, let's get to work. We won't be launching a blitzkrieg today. I'm giving you instructions on long-term core positions and short-term bullish positions for the next year. Take notes carefully, and make sure every number is correct."

In the Central trading room, the three men immediately grabbed their notebooks and pens, leaned forward, and pricked up their ears.

"Part One: Long-term core holdings in US stocks, totaling $330 million."

Ye Chen watched the ripples slowly spreading across the lake and calmly recited a series of numbers:

"Nefair, $130 million; Amazon, $110 million; Fruit Company, $50 million; Guggen, $40 million."

Upon hearing these four names and their corresponding sizes, Ken paused for a moment, then looked up and exchanged a glance with Cheng. In 2010, the US stock market had just emerged from the subprime mortgage crisis, and Netfi was still seen by Wall Street as a second-tier platform that had transitioned from renting DVDs to streaming media. Throwing in $130 million in one go was even more aggressive than buying Fruit and Googol, but no one dared to interrupt or question it at this time.

Ye Chen, holding his phone, continued to explain the details:

"These $330 million in spot positions will all be channeled through Cayman offshore trusts, using the TRS total return swap channel of top investment banks to avoid the SEC's 13F quarterly holdings disclosure. Starting from tonight's US stock market opening, the position building period will be extended to thirty trading days. Algorithms will be used to split orders and buy low during the trading day. Avoid making too much noise during the opening auction. Try to keep the average position building price near the five-day moving average. After the full amount is purchased, transfer it directly to an unpopular trust account and lock it up. Remember, these four targets are strategic core positions. No matter what financial reports Wall Street releases or how the market fluctuates, not a single share is allowed to be moved without my personal written instructions."

"Understood! 130 million for Nafi, 110 million for Amazon, 50 million for Fruit, and 40 million for Guge. We'll use TRS to hold the shares, splitting the orders into 30 trading days for low-price buying. Once the positions are established, we'll lock them in immediately!" Li Zhiwei repeated the confirmation verbatim.