In that instant, what welled up in her wasn't simple joy, but something far more complicated.
A sweet disbelief, a flustered fear that she might not be graceful enough, and a faint thrill at being treated with such gravity.
For Jiang Cheng to let her appear in that kind of setting—wasn't that, in some way, a silent acknowledgment and acceptance?
"Alright." She lifted her head and gave him a soft smile, the corners of her eyes curving. "I'll get ready early tomorrow evening."
After saying that, Wang Yuyan took the initiative and kissed Jiang Cheng.
After the kiss, Wang Yuyan didn't cling to him any longer.
Once Wang Yuyan left, Jiang Cheng's gaze flicked toward Xia Li, who wasn't far away.
Ever since last night, when he and Wang Yuyan were being intimate, Jiang Cheng had sensed something off.
Now, seeing Xia Li standing stiffly to the side, Jiang Cheng fully understood.
Before, no matter who came, Xia Li had always been impeccably dutiful.
Why had she butted heads with Wang Yuyan this time?
Even if he'd spotted the problem, Jiang Cheng had no intention of intervening.
He was a good man, and the first rule of a good man is: mind your own business.
Jiang Cheng quietly pulled out his phone and started looking at the data Chen Xueer had sent him.
On the screen, the Excel sheet clearly listed the position-building details: 40 million long shares spread across twelve anonymous accounts, average entry cost 176.3 USD—right inside the price band of Xu Zhigang's three short tranches.
The intraday-volume data showed every order during the build-up stayed between 4.5 and 4.9 million shares.
Corresponding volume bars were steady with no abnormal spikes, neatly dodging the 5-million-share large-trade alert threshold.
At the bottom, the summary line flagged the key figures: external volume 62 %, internal 38 %—external consistently above internal, showing solid buying support.
The minute-by-minute line stayed firmly above the average price, never once breaking support.
Xu Zhi was woken by his phone's ringtone.
The hangover felt like his skull was splitting; the moment he opened his eyes he saw two women in silk nightgowns still clinging to his arms.
The moment he picked up, the trader's anxious voice poured in: "Mr. Xu, it's midday in the US session and the buying is crazy! The shorts are floating two points down—2.4 billion lost on paper. Another 0.8 USD and we hit the risk line. Cut losses?"
At that, he jerked upright; the woman in the nightgown swayed with the motion and cuddled closer, cooing, "Young Master Xu, what's the rush? Let's sleep a little longer…"
Right now Xu Zhi felt none of last night's hunger; impatiently he shoved her away.
The woman lost her balance and tumbled from the bed onto the carpet beside it.
Her butt hurt like hell, but she didn't dare curse.
Her eyes reddened instantly.
Seeing this, the other woman didn't help; instead she shot her a gloating smile.
Xu Zhi didn't spare them a single glance.
He stood up abruptly, bare feet sinking into the cashmere rug.
Walking to the floor-to-ceiling window, he opened wechat and stared at "178.2 USD" on the screen, knuckles white.
Just then the door eased open; investment-consulting manager Old Zhou walked in cradling a tablet.
About to speak, he spotted the woman on the carpet wiping her tears.
Those snowy buttocks made his eyes go straight.
He swept another glance at the other long-legged beauty in nothing but pajamas, braless.
Though his gaze didn't linger, the swallowing motion betrayed what was on his mind.
Fighting not to look at the two stunners, he hurried to Xu Zhi and muttered, "Mr. Xu, look at this buying in the choppy session—our 179 USD shorts were snapped the instant they hit, all big lots, not retail."
Hearing this, Xu Zhi staggered to the sofa as last night's celebratory banquet flashed uncontrollably through his mind.
The flattery—"Young Master Xu's insight is genius", "We'll profit if we follow you"—still rang in his ears.
Yet the shorts in his hand now felt like red-hot iron, burning his fingertips numb.
The price of failure was simply too steep.
He could easily afford the loss if he pulled out now, but next time these people would never trust him so readily.
Seeing Xu Zhi's cold silence, the long-legged woman in sheer ice-silk glided over.
She lifted the cup of warm hangover tea: "Young Master Xu, don't be angry—have some tea first…"
Watching her sultry manner, the woman still on the floor glared viciously.
Both were from the song-and-dance troupe, rivals from daily practice; chosen by Xu Zhi last night, each now treated him like a crown prince, secretly vying for favor.
Last night she'd counted: Xu Zhi had spent 380 thrusts on her, only 150 on herself.
Not only was it unsatisfying, the thing that decided glory and riches hadn't even been left inside her.
That was why she'd hurried to wrap her arms around him when he woke, hoping for another round.
Though judging by his limp frame, another go would probably be a stretch.
The illusion of favor had made her think she was ahead, but clearly it was just that—an illusion.
Xu Zhi's face darkened; he seized her wrist and shoved hard: "If it's not your business, stay out! Stand aside and wait!"
The woman stumbled into the coffee table; the cup crashed, shards scattering across the floor.
Watching those almost-transparent breasts jiggle from the push, Old Zhou couldn't stop a drop of drool from falling.
He swallowed again and ventured, "Young Master Xu, should we look into this?"
"Look into what!" Xu Zhigang spun around, voice sharp. "The Facebook metaverse hole can't be filled, the data scandal hasn't died—this rise is fake! Tell the trader, slap another 5 million shorts at 179.5 USD. If anything goes wrong, I'll take the heat!"
Clearly, after an internal wrestle, he chose to double down.
Company's rapid growth these years had also been built on gambling.
Old Zhou's fingers tightened on the tablet, voice lower: "But three offshore funds are still sweeping up; our shorts can't hold them. Leverage is already 1:1.5; adding more pushes it to 1:1.7. Once the price breaks 182 USD, the risk line…"
"Break my ass!" Xu Zhigang slammed the phone onto the coffee table, the screen lighting up.
Right on the "Confirm Order" button.
"182 USD is the ceiling! I guaranteed a ten-percent win today—cutting now is admitting defeat. Where do I, Xu Zhigang, put my face?"
With that he grabbed the wine glass, gulped cold liquor to force himself calm.
His fingertip hovered over the "Confirm Order" button, hesitating.
Finally he clenched his teeth: "Tell the trader—no closing! Another 5 million shorts at 179.5 USD. This noon's swing is perfect for adding chips; once the afternoon opens we'll crush it! If anything goes wrong, I'll carry it!"
Old Zhou dared not object again; head down, he messaged the trader.
The room fell dead silent.
The instant the message was sent, Xu Zhigang's phone chimed.
The figure on the screen jumped—red "178.5 USD" flashed, then 178.7 USD.
A voice message from the trader arrived seconds later: "Mr. Xu! The 179.5 shorts were eaten the second they went up—big lots on the other side."