"Do you trade stocks too?" Qi Yuan asked Jiang Cheng.
The moment Qi Yuan finished, the system chimed: "Ding!"
"'Under heaven all bustle for profit.' Inviting friends to bet on a single U.S. stock's trend will reward the Host with five Shopping-Cashback Cards (max value per card: two million)."
Jiang Cheng read the system prompt.
The reward didn't look very tempting.
But he understood the system's real intent.
The point wasn't the reward—it was to help Jiang Cheng gather connections.
Whether it was Qi Yuan, Wang Congcong, Wang Zheng, Chen Hao, or Qin Fen,
they'd all first befriended Jiang Cheng because of his strength; widening their networks was goal number one.
Jiang Cheng felt the same: befriend these Second-generation rich kids and build his own web of relations.
These rich kids might spend their nights drinking and clubbing, but their families span every industry.
When real trouble hits you won't be groping blind—someone will always point you to the right door or pull a string.
If Jiang Cheng's stock tip made them money, he'd weave his network and flaunt his ability in one move.
Jiang Cheng shook his head. "I don't normally play the market, but I've got inside news: short-term play can top twenty-five percent."
Wang Congcong stopped scrolling, set his phone down, and frowned skeptically. "Inside info, twenty-five percent? That high?"
Three or four percent he could believe, but those returns sounded fishy.
Qi Yuan hesitated. "Brother Jiang, where'd you hear that? My best trades only net four percent."
"I'm grateful for everything you arranged last night and today. In return, I can promise you: almost zero risk."
"Which stock?" Wang Congcong asked, still doubtful.
Jiang Cheng smiled and shook his head. "I can't say. If you're interested, Xingchen Investment Company can handle it. All I'll tell you two is: relax, it's a sure gain."
Wang Congcong tapped a finger to his lips, studying Jiang Cheng in thought.
Qi Yuan was more straightforward.
After all, his favorability toward Jiang Cheng ran higher than Wang Congcong's.
He scratched his head. "Since you say so, I'm in. Only got seven hundred thousand—too little?"
Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes. "Small, yeah, but it should still cover a 718."
Qi Yuan rubbed his hands eagerly. "How much are you putting in, Brother Jiang?"
Jiang Cheng checked his phone.
"Looks like… all of it."
He slid his banking app casually across the table.
Wang Congcong and Qi Yuan glanced, then stared at each other wide-eyed.
"Brother Jiang, did you rob a bank? That much cash on hand?" Qi Yuan gasped.
Wang Congcong exclaimed, "They call me the son of the richest man, but you're the real deal!"
Jiang Cheng disliked showing off, but flexing could raise your status among peers.
Yet you only flex in front of people on your own level.
Try flexing to poor relatives or friends from different walks.
If you slip up, only two outcomes await.
They'll hit you up for loans, grow jealous, or beg for aid and favors.
From then on you're their personal god of wealth and climbing vine.
So flexing must target the right class.
"Enough drama. Think it over; wire the money to Xingchen Investment if you want. If not, no hard feelings—I only mentioned it casually."
Sure enough, after Jiang Cheng flexed, Wang Congcong—who'd doubted the 25% return—changed his tune.
"Then I'll throw in a hundred million."