Chapter Fifteen: Camping Trip

Nightfall.

The air on campus was thick with the scent of hormones.

No matter which university it was, once night came, couples would inevitably be found kissing shamelessly under the dormitory buildings, on the steps of the sports field, or on benches by the lake.

Shanghai University of Finance and Economics was no exception. Every few yards, couples were wrapped in each other's arms, exchanging the bacteria in their mouths.

Humans are animals, and spring had arrived. It was understandable that hormones ran high and were boldly expressed. What puzzled him, however, was why some couples chose the cafeteria as their place for “exchange.”

He couldn’t figure it out and decided not to dwell on it.

Returning to the male dormitory building, before he even reached the door of room 308, Zhang Yang heard hurried voices coming from inside.

“Tank, tank, I can’t hold on any longer!”

“Death Knight!”

“Death Knight, hold on!”

“Right away, right away!”

“Healer, use group heal, don’t hold back—keep the Death Knight alive. When the main tank’s health is restored to 70%, taunt the boss to pull aggro and switch the Death Knight out!”

“Got it!”

“Weakened! Go all in!”

Zhang Yang opened the dorm door and saw his three roommates, shirtless, furiously hammering their keyboards and clicking their mice.

They were playing World of Warcraft, currently the most popular online game, dominating the internet cafes.

It was precisely because of the global craze for World of Warcraft that various investors began to pay attention to the gaming market, eager to tap into its immense potential.

Compared to the Western fantasy style of World of Warcraft, Zhang Yang preferred multiplayer online role-playing games with a Chinese aesthetic, such as Conquest and Legend.

But that was in the past. Compared to virtual games, he now favored the intoxicating allure of real life.

Taking advantage of his roommates’ gaming session, Zhang Yang went to take a shower, then washed his clothes and hung them on the line above the balcony.

By the time he finished, the three roommates had completed their dungeon run.

Seeing Zhang Yang emerge from the balcony, Chen Chuan was momentarily stunned. “Damn, dorm leader, when did you get back?”

“When you guys were running the dungeon,” Zhang Yang replied.

“The dorm leader’s back?” Xu Jiafeng glanced over, surprised to see Zhang Yang actually return. “Tomorrow’s the weekend. We’re planning to go camping. Dorm leader, are you coming?”

“Camping?” Zhang Yang pondered, then asked, “Camping gear and food need to be prepared in advance, right? Have you got everything ready?”

“For camping gear, I’ll just grab mine from home. As for food, we can buy it tomorrow, plenty of time,” Wang Liu said.

His family lived in Shanghai, right in the precious land of Lujiazui. He was a genuine second-generation rich kid.

“We’re just missing you, dorm leader,” Chen Chuan chimed in.

“Alright then, I’ll risk my life to keep you company,” Zhang Yang said with a faint smile.

Originally, he had planned to spend the weekend reorganizing the data he’d gathered, especially the ST stock sector.

In the A-share market, ST stocks—nicknamed “capped stocks”—were those under special treatment due to possible delisting risks. Their price fluctuations were limited to 5%, and buying them came with risk warnings.

Anyone who had traded ST stocks knew that their risks and rewards were no less intense than chasing limit-up boards.

If delisted from special treatment, they might soar with multiple consecutive limit-ups, doubling your returns.

But if forcibly delisted, the stocks wouldn’t disappear. Instead, they would be traded on the “Securities Company Share Transfer System,” commonly called the third board.

Once a stock retreated to the third board, its inflated value would be squeezed out immediately, potentially losing 70% or more of its worth.

Some investors liked buying third board stocks because if the company relisted, the stock’s value could rebound, often delivering at least 100% paper gains.

When Zhang Yang agreed to join the camping trip, Chen Chuan immediately handed him a cigarette and said, “Dorm leader, I want to ask you a favor.”

“What is it?”

Zhang Yang took it casually.

“Can you invite a couple of girls to come along? Otherwise, it’ll be too lonely with just us guys,” Chen Chuan said straightforwardly.

“Yeah, dorm leader, you have to hook us up with some girls. Everyone within miles knows you have hundreds of girls on your QQ friend list,” Wang Liu added.

“Wait, Chen’s the one asking girls out because he’s single; Liu, didn’t you just get into a relationship?” Zhang Yang couldn’t help but ask.

“Don’t mention it. She wanted me to buy her a diamond necklace worth 6,999 yuan before she’d agree to be my girlfriend. I don’t like materialistic women,” Wang Liu waved his hand dismissively.

“He wants a free ride,” Chen Chuan summed up succinctly.

But Wang Liu quickly protested, “What do you mean free ride? I just want love to spark naturally. When love involves material conditions, can you still call it love?”

“He wants a free ride,” Chen Chuan repeated.

“Damn it! Chen, could you say it another way?” Wang Liu pleaded.

Chen Chuan thought for a moment and tried a different phrase: “He wants a free meal.”

“...” Wang Liu was utterly speechless.

Did he want a free ride?

Not really.

His family had plenty of money; his parents were successful entrepreneurs, and he even drove a BMW 3 Series to college.

He just disliked when relationships began with immediate demands for gifts—it felt like a transaction.

...

As his roommates wished, Zhang Yang posted a status update on his QQ space.

In 2009, when WeChat was still in development, young people shared their lives mainly through QQ space or Weibo.

“Anyone want to go camping and have a cookout?”

The post had barely gone up when comments flooded in.

“Chen Yong, Statistics ’07: Yang, am I in? I’m fast with money and know 108 ways to barbecue in Zibo.”

“Nie Xiaoqin, Finance ’05: I want to come! Where are we going to cook outdoors?”

“Yu Hansi, Accounting ’07: Need more people? I’m in!”

Comments scrolled so fast Zhang Yang was dazzled.

Since freshman year, he had recognized that social connections were a resource and had never refused a friend request.

Over four years, his QQ friends numbered two to three thousand.

Meanwhile, in the girls’ dormitory 201, majoring in Investment:

“OMG!” Xu Zhiruo exclaimed, reading from the screen. “Zhang Yang posted about camping. Perfect timing—we’re going out to enjoy the spring bloom tomorrow too.”

“Such a coincidence?” He Jing was surprised.

April was already the last month for late cherry blossoms. Miss it now, and you’d have to wait a whole year.

Because of this, the four girls in dorm 201 had already planned a Saturday outing to see the cherry blossoms.

“Stop talking, just invite them! We can have a dormitory social!” Lan Sisi had already sent a chat request to Zhang Yang, efficiency first.

Wei Yunshi: “I’ve sent a message too.”

Xu Zhiruo: “Me too.”

On the other side, Zhang Yang, upon receiving the messages, naturally chose faces he recognized, selecting eight girls from dorms 201 and 209 to join the camping trip.

When Xu Jiafeng learned Xu Zhiruo would be coming, he excitedly started rummaging through his clothes and pulling out bottles and jars from his locker.

For a guy, hair gel might be optional, but it was absolutely necessary.

In more formal settings, hair gel kept your hair standing firm, avoiding the embarrassment of constantly fussing with it.

What Zhang Yang didn’t realize was that Wang Xingbang was meticulously reviewing each of his QQ space posts.

Though older, Wang Xingbang had his own QQ account but seldom logged in. He usually communicated via emails to the class committee, who then relayed messages.

But now, seeing Zhang Yang’s posts, Wang furrowed his brow and muttered, “Macroeconomic reports, microeconomic reports, sector analyses... Could Zhang Yang be aiming to become a financial analyst?”