The Poor School Heartthrob Was Secretly a Financial Titan - Chapter 5

He walked along, unpacking the manuscript paper inside.

He recognized his homeroom teacher, Ms. Wu’s, handwriting; she had taught him Chinese for three years, and her comments on his compositions were always neat and tidy. But this letter was written in haste, and the handwriting was somewhat messy…

The letter was short, but Han Xuetao understood it.

Teacher Wu was reminding him, or rather—warning him.

Once he broke the deadlock at the karaoke bar, they started pressing him relentlessly.

The fact that Mr. Wu, a retired teacher nearing retirement, was able to write this letter to play the bad cop shows how much pressure he was under.

The other party is trying to cut off his chance to repeat a year of high school – they can manipulate his records and student status, making it impossible for any school to accept him.

They forced him to be obedient and follow the path they laid out for him: go to a vocational school, take the five thousand yuan, and from then on, have nothing to do with them anymore.

Not far ahead, there was a deep-frying stall with a black iron pot on it, where golden glutinous rice cakes were sizzling and turning.

Han Xuetao went over, bought one, and used the letter to wrap the bottom of the pancake to avoid getting his hands sticky.

He ate as he walked, and after finishing the last bite, the letter, already stained with oil, crumpled the letter and envelope into a ball, tore it up, and threw it into the roadside trash can.

To forcibly arrange a person’s fate like this…

Han Xuetao gave a cold smile.

Then it depends on whether you give in.

…

Morning rush hour.

The No. 6 bus was packed like a sardine can.

Near the back door, a young man wearing a black baseball cap gripped the handrail, swaying with the bus. His cap was pulled low, revealing only half his face; he was unremarkable in appearance. An old backpack slung over his shoulder bore a red advertisement for the Rural Credit Cooperative.

His gaze swept around the carriage and finally landed on a middle-aged woman.

The woman, in her forties, stood sideways, her crossbody bag slung behind her, the zipper ajar. She was tiptoeing out the window, completely unaware of what was happening.

The baseball cap shifted slightly, and his hand slid down from the armrest, slowly reaching towards the shoulder bag—

He froze halfway through reaching out his hand.

From his side and behind, a pair of eyes were staring at him.

It was a boy in a school uniform, standing by the window, his hand gripping the overhead handrail. The uniform was blue and white, with the school emblem “Donglin No.1 Middle School” printed on the chest.

He slowly withdrew the baseball cap from his hand, turned his head, and met the student’s gaze through the brim of his cap.

He frowned, a fierce look forming on his face, his eyes gleaming menacingly—be sensible and mind your own business.

The student looked at him and gave him a bright, sunny smile.

My heart skipped a beat.

He withdrew his gaze, turned to the side, and no longer moved closer to the middle-aged woman.

The bus swayed and bumped its way to another stop. As soon as the door opened, the man in the baseball cap squeezed off the bus and walked away without looking back.

unlucky.

Our first order of the day fell through!

He crossed two roads, waited at the bus stop for five minutes, and boarded another bus—the one going to the People’s Hospital.

The train was quite crowded. He squeezed into the middle of the carriage and quickly spotted his target: a middle-aged couple. The man was wearing an old jacket, and the woman was carrying a bulging cloth bag with a medical record clipped to it. The couple were talking in hushed tones; the woman’s eyes were a little red, as if she had gone to see a doctor.

He shifted his baseball cap slightly to that side, and his hand slid down the bag strap—

He froze again.

The boy in the school uniform stood near the door, smiling at him.

He rubbed his eyes vigorously.

Hold?

Today is weird!

Two trains in a row, and you run into the same person?

Even a fool like him would know something was wrong. As soon as the bus pulled into the station, he squeezed off and disappeared into an alleyway without looking back.

He walked quickly, winding his way through alleys and narrow lanes. He kept looking back as he walked, but when he didn’t see the school uniform, he felt a little relieved.

Having worked in this line of work for seven or eight years, I’ve developed some skills in counter-surveillance.

After turning two more corners, he entered a quiet alley near the back gate of the People’s Hospital. At the end of the alley was a pile of miscellaneous items: broken wooden boards, rotten cardboard boxes, and several discarded tires stacked against the wall.

He walked over, bent down and rummaged through the clutter, revealing a dusty little suitcase inside.

I picked it up at the airport yesterday; I haven’t opened it yet.

He had just reached out to grab it when he caught a glimpse of the alley entrance out of the corner of his eye, and he froze on the spot as if struck by lightning.

The student in the school uniform was leaning against the wall at the entrance of the alley, hands in his pockets, tilting his head to look at him.

The baseball cap’s pupils contracted, and sweat broke out on his back.

He sat up abruptly, staring at the approaching figure, his throat tightening: “You little brat… why are you following me?”

Han Xuetao walked three steps away from him and stopped.

“Bao Da,” he said, “is an informant.”

The man in the baseball cap shuddered, his eyes widening in surprise.

“How…how do you know my name?”

Han Xuetao didn’t answer, his gaze sweeping over the pile of junk behind him.

Finding Bao Da was something he had planned long ago.

As for Zhou Cheng, although he knew who it was, he had very little specific information.

In his previous life, when he learned of this, he was in South America fighting for a territory, living a life of constant danger, and had no time to return home for revenge. He only knew that the other party’s father worked in the court and his mother was a vice principal; he knew nothing about their name, where they lived, or what they looked like.

He’s pretending to agree to his uncle’s request to buy himself some time. To retaliate, he needs to use this time before the scores are released to find out more about his opponent.

And Bao Da—this was his best friend whom he met while in prison. This guy was a thief, but even more impressive was his ability to gather information and sell it for money; people in the underworld called him “Bao the Informant.” Later, the two of them smuggled themselves out of the country together and even pulled off a few heists in South America.

But right now, Bao Da doesn’t know him.

Han Xuetao said, “You’re a thief, what kind of secret is your name? The state keeps it secret, and you’re not allowed to access your file?”

Bao Da stared at him, his eyes filled with surprise and suspicion: “Who are you? Which side are you on?”

Han Xuetao pointed to his school uniform: “Donglin No.1 Middle School, Han Xuetao.”

Bao Da paused for two seconds, then uttered a single word:

“Hold!”

He turned to leave, but after a couple of steps he remembered something and turned back to reach for the suitcase, feeling uneasy leaving it there.

Han Xuetao glanced at the box and chuckled, “Being so greedy, you’ll end up in jail sooner or later.”

Bao Da’s face darkened.

“You little brat, how dare you curse me?” He cursed as he walked back, grabbed his suitcase, and charged towards Han Xuetao. “If I don’t teach you a lesson today, you’ll never know who I am!”

The box was swung up and smashed down on Han Xuetao’s head—

The route suddenly changed direction halfway through.

The box flew out of his hand, and Bao Da had already pulled something out of his sleeve with his other hand.

Han Xuetao shifted his feet, sidestepped the box, and reached out with his right hand, pressing it on a spot on the inside of the box’s forearm.

Bao Da’s hand went numb, and the blade between his two fingers slid back.

His pupils contracted, and his other hand reached for his waist—

He was pinned down again.

Han Xuetao took a step forward, slapped the outside of his thigh with his left hand, and pushed with his right knee, just in time to block the position where the man was about to lift his leg.

Bao Da stood frozen in place, sweat beginning to bead on his forehead.

He looked up at Han Xuetao as if he were looking at a ghost.

“Those two razor blades on your sleeve, and these three on your leg,” Han Xuetao took a step back, his tone indifferent, “don’t take them out. You can’t take them out.”

Bao Da opened his mouth, and managed to squeeze out a sentence: “You…you’re a thief too?”

Han Xuetao smiled.

That smile, when it fell on Bao Da’s face, sent chills down his spine more than everything that had just happened combined.

“Trying to outmaneuver me?” Han Xuetao tilted his head. “You’re not qualified.”

Bao Da didn’t say anything.

“I’m not looking for you to steal anything,” Han Xuetao said. “I need you to find out something for me.”

Bao Da caught his breath and mustered his courage to ask, “What…what are the benefits?”

“The benefit is,” Han Xuetao looked at him, “that I’m giving you a chance to become my elder brother.”

Bao Da was stunned for a moment, then his face turned bright red.

“You’re really something!” he said, sticking out his neck. “You’re not even fully grown yet, and you want me to bow down to you as my elder brother?”

Han Xuetao didn’t speak, but suddenly moved.

Bao Da only felt a blur before his eyes, and then a large hand gripped the back of his head tightly, causing him to fall uncontrollably downwards—

“Bang!”

His head was pressed to the ground, and just centimeters in front of him was a shard of porcelain from a flowerpot, broken into several pieces with sharp edges.

His pupils instantly shrank to pinpoints.

The hand on the back of his head tightened again, lifting him up from the ground like a chick.

Bao Da’s legs went weak, and he collapsed to the ground.

“elder brother……”

He looked up at Han Xuetao, his eyes unfocused and his voice weak.

“Who do you want to ask about? Tell me, who do you want to ask about?”

“There’s a senior named Zhou Cheng at Donglin Experimental High School,” Han Xuetao said. “I need his detailed information, as much as I can dig deep.”

Bao Da’s expression froze after hearing this.

“Inquiring about… a high school student?”

He looked at Han Xuetao, then at the shards of porcelain he had almost bumped into, and suddenly felt an urge to cry.

A high school student asked him to inquire about another high school student?

“Bro, I’m a gangster! Can you please not involve me in your classmates’ conflicts? I can’t afford to lose face like that!”