Chapter 1: A Sudden Void

March 21, Vernal Equinox.

Spring is a season of partings, a perfect time for letting go.

Lu Liang woke early to tidy up the apartment. There wasn’t much that belonged to him; most of the belongings were Lin Wenjing’s.

He stared at the pile on the floor and hesitated before deciding to make a call, asking what to do with her things. “Hello, I still have some of your things here. Do you want me to—”

His words were cut off by Lin Wenjing’s icy tone, as cold as if she were facing a telemarketer: “Lu Liang, we’re divorced now. Please don’t put me in an awkward position. Let’s just move on peacefully, okay?”

Lu Liang heard a man’s voice nearby, seemingly just waking up, asking lazily, “Who’s that?”

“No one, darling, go back to sleep a little longer,” she replied softly, like a girl in the throes of new love.

“Okay, got it.”

Lu Liang hung up expressionlessly and called the scrap dealer over, clearing out every single item without leaving a trace.

He knew who that man was—one of the shareholders at the beauty salon where his ex-wife worked, driving a Land Rover Evoque.

They had hooked up just days after the divorce; it wasn’t hard to guess her head had been full of green horns even before the divorce was finalized.

But now that they were divorced, what could he do?

Anger would only expose his helplessness and confirm to her that divorce was the right choice.

The only revenge was to live well—drive the best cars, date the most beautiful women, and enjoy life to the fullest.

Once Lu Liang had cleared all traces of her from his home, he felt a bit lighter.

At two in the afternoon, the agreed time with a client, he waited at the entrance of the community.

Before he had even finished a cigarette, an elderly man stepped out of a taxi, smiling broadly. “Little Lu, thanks for waiting.”

“Uncle Wu, I just came downstairs,” Lu Liang greeted warmly, inviting the man up for tea.

The old man waved him off, “Just get your things ready. I’ve looked over them several times; no need to check again.”

“So, shall we proceed with the paperwork?”

“Shouldn’t go through Lujing channel, right?” Uncle Wu asked.

Though Lu Liang was selling his own house, he was still an employee of Lujing Real Estate.

If the transfer went through Lujing’s system, it would cost several thousand yuan in extra fees.

“No need, I’ll handle it directly,” Lu Liang shook his head.

As a seasoned real estate professional, it would be a waste of his years of experience to sell his own property through company channels.

They arrived at the housing authority, and Lu Liang navigated the procedures with the ease of coming home.

A suburban two-bedroom, 76 square meters, selling for 1.12 million yuan, 5% below market value.

If he weren’t in urgent need of cash, the listing could have fetched 1.2 million in a week or two easily.

Later, he went to the bank to transfer the mortgage. After deducting fees, 171,500 yuan remained.

That night, Lu Liang packed a few sets of clothes and moved into a single apartment, once again becoming one of the many drifting souls in Shanghai.

“Ten years of hard work, all vanished in an instant.”

Staring at the cold 175,000 yuan in his account, Lu Liang felt a sudden urge to cry.

He had come to the metropolis with only two thousand yuan in his pocket, and after ten years of struggle, built a family and a career.

But it all evaporated like smoke.

His parents had contributed 150,000 yuan for the wedding house, and he had borrowed 50,000 from friends.

Ten years of grinding, and he was still 25,000 yuan in debt—it seemed like a cruel joke on his past self.

Suddenly, his phone rang. It was his manager, Mr. Wu, from the company: “Lu Liang, are you coming to work or not? Director Liu said if you don’t show up by tomorrow, it will be marked as absenteeism.”

“Got it.”

Lu Liang looked at himself in the mirror—scruffy beard, greasy hair—a pitiful sight.

“To hell with it. Just start over.”

He took a shower and stepped out.

Looking at the clothes, shoes, and socks in his bag—uniform white shirts, suit pants, and black leather shoes—he realized he couldn’t even change his style.

He thought of his ex-wife’s designer wardrobe and cosmetics worth thousands while he wore cheap clothes that cost only tens.

The more he looked, the more they irritated him. It seemed he had never truly lived for himself during those married years, and in the end, it was all for nothing.

In a fit of determination, Lu Liang packed all the clothes and threw them into the dumpster downstairs.

He spent 688 yuan on a hair styling package that included a facial treatment, then went to the mall and bought several sets of clothes, shoes, and socks.

“I’m not that old, after all.”

Looking at his renewed reflection, he saw a man transformed.

Compared to ten years ago, he had put on some weight but was still handsome, now exuding the charm of a mature man.

The only flaw was the money in his account, which wasn’t enough for another transformation.

“Handsome guy, you’re not old at all,” the sales assistant praised as she helped him coordinate outfits.

“I like hearing that. I’ll take these sets.”

His balance quickly dropped to 169,000 yuan, but Lu Liang felt an unprecedented rush of satisfaction.

“Spending money feels amazing!”

Back at the apartment, Lu Liang began preparing to make money. Spending was joyful, but having no money was painful.

To avoid pain, he had to always have money to spend.

“I should be able to borrow quite a bit.”

He pulled out his phone and ID, contacting industry veterans like Old Ma and Qiangzi to discuss deals.

Since the property transfer was only completed that afternoon and online information hadn’t updated yet, he managed to get 210,000 yuan across three platforms.

He also borrowed 150,000 yuan from credit cards, instantly boosting available funds to 520,000 yuan.

But considering he wanted to subscribe to new stocks, the more initial capital, the better.

Lu Liang downloaded every reputable app he could find, eventually increasing his funds to a staggering 620,000 yuan.

“Haisheng, what have you been busy with lately? I want to ask you something,” Lu Liang reached out to a client working at a brokerage firm.

He kept 20,000 yuan for daily expenses, used 50,000 yuan to pay service fees, and obtained 5,000 stock allocation numbers to increase his chances of winning new stock allocations.

Since his divorce a few days ago, a voice had been echoing in Lu Liang’s mind.

At first, he thought it was hallucination and even questioned whether there had ever been any real feelings between him and Lin Wenjing.

They had met only a few times, agreed on the bride price, and married without any emotional foundation.

Less than two years later, divorced without children—their relationship was as faint as water.

Until yesterday, when the voice became clearer than ever.

“March 24, Storm Technology goes public, 40 trading days with 37 daily limit-ups, peak price 327 yuan per share.”

Back then, Lu Liang searched for news about Storm Technology and learned the IPO date was March 24, with an issue price of 7.14 yuan per share.

Before that, he had never heard of this stock; if it were hallucination, he couldn’t possibly know the exact listing date.

After deep thought, Lu Liang decided to take a gamble. After all, losing money in A-shares wouldn’t kill him, and it was even harder to lose money with new stocks.

If the voice was real, his life would change dramatically.

Of course, it was widely accepted that 99.99% of new stocks didn’t lose money.

Because they rarely lost, many people subscribed. Getting even one allotment in ten tries was considered lucky.

Thus, some gray market practices emerged, like increasing allocation numbers to boost winning chances.

But few dared to do this because the cost was high, and without at least seven consecutive limit-ups, it was almost guaranteed to lose.