The Poor School Heartthrob Was Secretly a Financial Titan - Chapter 1

He tried hard to open his eyes, but couldn’t. He was filled with doubt: which Morgan Stanley or Goldman Sachs partner, or those Texas oil tycoons, had arranged this “special program” for him?

At the Sapphire Club in Las Vegas, there was a Chinese dancer who suited his taste; these people always knew how to please him.

wrong!

His consciousness suddenly sank.

He had just signed investment agreements with Wall Street investment banks and several oil giants for the next 25 years in Venezuela, and then boarded a flight to Hong Kong.

Over the Pacific Ocean, the plane encountered a severe storm, causing it to shake violently. In such a panicked state, how could a woman calmly and deliberately unbuckle his belt?

Thinking of this, Han Xuetao suddenly pulled away. The hands trembled in fright, and the fingertips quickly snapped open.

In the dim light, the other person looked up—Zhang Lu from Class 2, Grade 12!

Han Xuetao’s heart felt as if it were being gripped tightly by an icy hand, suddenly contracting.

It’s that dream again?

Twenty years have passed.

Dark memories surged back like a tidal wave:

It was after the college entrance exam, and his classmates had booked a karaoke bar for a party. He got drunk until he was almost unconscious, and then they helped him into the bathroom. After some time, an angry classmate kicked the door open, pointed at him, and yelled at him, saying that he had tried to take advantage of Zhang Lu, the school beauty from Class Two.

He was disoriented at the time and was taken to the police station. The case was then settled in a muddled way, and he was sentenced to three years in prison, and his college entrance examination results were naturally invalidated.

Many years later, he learned by chance that someone else had taken his place in university. That person was living a carefree life on campus, using his name, while he was stuck behind bars, counting the days and nights.

Unable to bear the gossip from neighbors, the cold treatment from their workplaces, and the idle chatter from relatives, the parents fell ill one after another within six months, were diagnosed with serious illnesses, and soon passed away.

This memory was like a rusty nail, driven deep into the heart of him.

Even after he went overseas, became the head of the world’s largest Chinese gang, and transformed his business, amassing assets worth hundreds of billions, the dull pain of that nail still relentlessly crushed his heart every time he woke up in the middle of the night.

In recent years, however, he has rarely dreamed of these things.

Why are you here again?

…

“Give me a cup of the potion of forgetfulness, and I’ll not shed a tear for one night…”

In a daze, Andy Lau’s voice came through the cheap speakers, accompanied by static, and suddenly pierced his mind.

Buzz—

Something in my mind suddenly tightened and snapped. Then, all my senses rushed in!

He suddenly opened his eyes.

Dim lighting, mottled walls, and the pungent smell of cheap disinfectant and urine permeating the air.

In my ears, the drumbeats of the music in the hall outside vibrated slightly, mixed with faint laughter, clinking glasses, and off-key shouts, all rushing in at once.

Han Xuetao’s pupils contracted sharply.

This was… in the summer of 1996, three days after the college entrance examination, in that damned karaoke bar, in that toilet stall that completely shattered his life trajectory!

He abruptly looked down at the person in front of him. The yellow dress with white polka dots, its hem bunched up above her knees in a crumpled mess because of her squatting posture, was clearer and more glaring than any of his nightmares from the past twenty years!

Moving the gaze upwards, there was a handsome face, slightly distorted with shock and panic, its lips parted slightly, seemingly unprepared for Han Xuetao’s sudden awakening.

When Zhang Lu saw that face, which was so clear it was almost too obvious, Han Xuetao was also stunned.

Immediately afterwards, a sharp pain shot through the depths of my brain, and countless fragments of consciousness collided wildly!

The toilets in karaoke bars, the iron bars of prison cells, the waves of the Caribbean Sea, the bloodshed in gang headquarters, the smoke of battle on Wall Street…

“Uh…” He let out a suppressed groan, and a fine layer of cold sweat instantly appeared on his forehead.

The excruciating pain came on fiercely and went away abruptly. As the last trace of dizziness and pain dissipated, Han Xuetao’s consciousness returned to full clarity.

A definite thought emerged clearly—he had been reborn.

He, Han Xuetao, the mastermind behind a multi-billion dollar business empire and a legend in the global Chinese underworld, returned to 1996, to the darkest moment of his life, the day his fate was forcibly twisted!

“call–“

Having confirmed his rebirth, he let out a long, slow breath, then slowly and steadily stood up. His movements were deliberate, carrying an oppressive aura that seemed incongruous with his youthful body.

Zhang Lu instinctively shrank back: “You…you drank…”

Before the words were even finished, a crisp, loud slap rang out.

Han Xuetao acted decisively.

Zhang Lu was squatting down when she was slapped and fell to the ground sideways, her left cheek quickly swelling up.

She was stunned, and tears welled up in her eyes in an instant.

“Don’t cry.”

With those three words, Han Xuetao forcefully silenced her sobs.

She looked up in alarm, her gaze being pressed down by the shadow of Han Xuetao leaning over her.

“Zhang Lu from Class Two, right? We barely spoke a few words during our three years of high school.”

He paused, tilted his head slightly, as if seriously considering a difficult problem.

“Did I kill your parents?” he asked, his voice neither hurried nor slow. “Why would you do this to me?”

“I…I…” Zhang Lu was in a state of confusion and spoke incoherently.

Han Xuetao reached out and pinched her swollen left cheek.

“If you can’t say it, then don’t say it. Tonight, you won’t have a chance to speak.”

As soon as he finished speaking, his hand, which had been pinching her cheek, transformed into a knife, slicing precisely across Zhang Lu’s neck. Zhang Lu’s body went limp, and she collapsed to the ground, unconscious.

Han Xuetao stood up, his gaze lingering on her for a second, but his expression remained unchanged. He reached up and adjusted his jeans; his belt buckle had been half-unbuckled.

Looking at his outfit, he suddenly chuckled softly.

Not long ago—or rather, in another time and space—he was wearing a bespoke suit worth millions, finalizing a cooperation agreement with Wall Street investment banks and oil tycoons.

Now, he is wearing a cheap black T-shirt, ripped jeans, and old sneakers, in the toilet of a dirty karaoke bar in a small inland town in the 1990s.

Fate played a cruel joke on him, but it also gave him a rare gift.

Han Xuetao’s expression calmed down, quickly settling into a still sea. He turned around and faced the peeling paint on the partition door.

“This time, I’ll take control of my own destiny,” he murmured to himself.

After saying that, he raised his leg and kicked the cubicle door hard!

“Bang–!!!”

A loud crash drowned out the music outside. The flimsy door, along with its fragile latch, shattered open, slammed against the wall, and bounced back.

Han Xuetao stepped out of the dimly lit cubicle.