After seeing Wang Yuyan off to the hotel for her internship exchange early that morning, Jiang Cheng drove straight to Renji Mountain Villa.
He'd spent the last two nights with Wang Yuyan, and since a good man must master his time, he could only rush over at dawn.
When the elevator arrived, Jiang Cheng rang the bell several times, then pressed his thumb to the lock.
The sensor light in the entryway clicked on as the door swung open, warm yellow spilling across the living-room carpet.
Jiang Churan stood halfway to the door, a half-full glass of warm milk in her hand.
She froze at the sight of Jiang Cheng, then asked in surprise, "Why are you here so early?"
Jiang Cheng shut the door behind him.
He walked over, voice husky and lazy. "Don't ask. Two all-nighters in a row. The second we wrapped, the first thing I wanted was to see you."
His words soaked her heart like warm water, turning it soft and helpless.
She didn't bother setting the glass down; she hurried over, rose on tiptoe, and flung her arms around his waist.
"You've worked so hard." She buried her face in his chest, voice muffled and aching. "You haven't rested at all, have you?"
Jiang Cheng chuckled, rubbed the crown of her head, and patted her back.
"I'm fine." His voice dropped, coaxing. "Seeing you wipes away the tiredness."
A sweet smile tugged at Jiang Churan's lips.
She tipped her face up, rose on tiptoe, and pecked his chin.
Then, shy again, she hid against his chest.
Her nose brushed the faint tobacco and crisp cedar on his shirt—until a different scent drifted in.
She wrinkled her nose, lifted her head, and lightly poked his collar.
Eyes glinting with mischief, she asked, "You haven't showered, right? There's a trace of perfume. Looks like you really did pull an all-nighter."
The sudden critical hit made Jiang Cheng's eyelid twitch.
The lyric "there's her perfume on you" flashed through his mind.
Crap—Wang Yuyan always spritzed something before going out.
A little close contact and the scent clung.
Damn, feels like the car's about to flip.
Who'd have thought this Girl was such a detail freak.
Luckily his composure was ironclad, backed by the Sit Like a Divine Bell skill; not a flicker showed.
He pinched her cheek, tone utterly natural. "I've been glued to the project. Met the team in a private room all night—people in and out. Who knows whose scent it is. Check the group—they're still talking wrap-up."
He even waved his phone; the screen showed the private chat.
Jiang Churan only glanced.
Smiling, she rose to straighten his crumpled tie.
"Then take care of yourself. Rest when it's done. I'll warm some milk for your stomach."
She started to turn, but Jiang Cheng caught her wrist.
He leaned close, warm breath brushing her ear, voice low and teasing. "Right now I'd rather eat you than drink milk."
Before she could answer, he scooped her into his arms and headed for the bedroom.
Jiang Churan gasped, arms flying around his neck, cheeks crimson.
Seeing the energy in his eyes, her tiny doubt melted away.
She'd imagined things; he was clearly far from tired… Moments later, professional grappling unfolded in the bedroom.
Amid the sounds came Jiang Cheng's banter.
"Girl, I think your horoscope's a bit misaligned…"
"What horoscope—then let go of my legs."
"Let go, sure. We can still align them… climb on up…"
An hour later, Jiang Cheng lay with an arm around Jiang Churan's smooth waist, scrolling through the small group chat.
Xu Zhigang: Redline's almost at the key level. The rally's drawn more followers, and we're feasting.
Jiang Cheng: Keep the algo nibbling with tiny orders. The three offshore houses hold 40 million shares as back-stop—push the price to 183.5.
Qin Fen: Copy that. Oak, Lone Pine, and Tiger are moving in sync; the chart looks flawless.
He Youjun: Risk ran the numbers—183.5 sits 1.5 bucks below his margin call at 185. He won't even have room to struggle.
Wang Congcong: Big Bro Cheng's setting up a mega-move; the latecomers will think there's still meat and happily take the bait. Once they're loaded, we flip and pocket the spread.
Wang Zheng: My risk desk double-checked. After 183.5 holds, the herd will give us ten minutes—enough to unload our high-longs. When his margin's gone, he's trapped.
Jiang Cheng: Hunting time. Hold for my signal.
Qi Yuan: Roger that, Dad.
Wang Congcong: @Qi Yuan you kept quiet during the talk, but you're quick to call him Dad.
Qin Fen: @Wang Congcong you steal the show, bro—my hat's off.
He Youjun: Haha, your bro's dad is still Dad.
Qi Yuan: @Wang Congcong shameless as always… Seeing Jiang Cheng scroll wechat right beside her, Jiang Churan's lips curved.
She snuggled even closer.
No new messages popped up; only the price on the chart kept ticking while everyone waited for the doomed money to step into the trap.
The group stayed silent, the only sound the steady pings of live quotes.
Suddenly Xu Zhigang posted a screenshot of the order book—dense green text.
Xu Zhigang: We're there—183.5! Broker says his account's flashing red; final notice sent.
Jiang Cheng: Close the net.
The moment those four words appeared, Qin Fen replied: Copy! The three offshore desks are unloading in batches, keeping the price steady.
At almost the same instant, Xu Zhi's trader hammered his keyboard, voice cracking.
"Boss Xu! We can't hold it! Price's pinned at 183.5, our 15-billion buffer's almost gone! Only 1.5 bucks to margin call—if we can't top up, forced liquidation hits!"