Chapter Seventeen: Bring in the Professor
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While Zhang Yang was camping outdoors with friends, far away at the Slow Time café on the Bund, Wang Xingbang recounted everything he had learned to Tao Yu’ang in detail.
“Professor Wang, are you saying that the rise in the returns of the students at Shanghai University of Finance and Economics is because a student named Zhang Yang has been selling market research reports?” Tao Yu’ang’s eyes flickered with surprise, clearly not expecting this outcome.
“Yes, I have no reason to lie to you,” Wang Xingbang replied. “This is the personal action of the student, not something we instructed.”
“Well...” Tao Yu’ang hesitated.
He thought to himself, “Wang Xingbang is washing his hands of responsibility, but I have to bear the consequences of Zhang Yang’s actions.”
More than half a month ago, he had promised that the top ten in the Huaxin Simulated Trading Competition would be offered internships at Huaxin Securities—a promise extended to 122 investment students at Shanghai University of Finance and Economics.
Could he retract that promise?
He couldn’t!
Nor would he dare!
Because if he did, he would offend 122 future financial professionals, many with strong backgrounds.
Better to grit his teeth and recommend them than to revoke the promise and face worse consequences.
Seeing Tao Yu’ang’s hesitation, Wang Xingbang immediately said, “If you have something to say, just say it straight—no need to beat around the bush.”
As someone born in the 1950s who had studied abroad, he hated evasiveness and dithering above all.
“Ahem,” Tao Yu’ang cleared his throat. “Professor Wang, could you ask Zhang Yang to stop selling the market reports for now? Using the Huaxin Simulated Trading Competition results as the referral standard is meant to select outstanding students. If he keeps doing this, I’ll have a hard time.”
Upon realizing Tao Yu’ang wanted him to intervene, Wang Xingbang took a sip of coffee and, unhurriedly, asked, “If I step in, do you want me to represent Shanghai University of Finance and Economics, or Huaxin Securities?”
“Or...” Tao Yu’ang paused briefly, then added, “I could do it myself.”
Three identities, three implications.
If Wang represented the university, it would mean the school disapproved of Zhang Yang’s actions and denied the validity of its own teaching.
After all, all investment courses teach students to understand markets and the economy; buying research reports is as legitimate as buying newspapers.
If he represented Huaxin Securities, regardless of Wang’s qualifications, wouldn’t Huaxin Securities also have to halt the market reports it produces?
As for representing himself, Wang Xingbang couldn’t be bothered.
Tao Yu’ang was no fool; any fund manager who had survived and thrived in the financial world for years was formidable.
After hearing Wang’s stance, Tao Yu’ang changed his tone: “I’ll go back to my alma mater and talk to Zhang Yang personally. Sorry for troubling you, Professor Wang.”
“Monday, 4 p.m.,” Wang Xingbang gave a specific time and place. “You should be free then. Come to my office for a talk.” He did not allow Tao Yu’ang to meet Zhang Yang alone.
The reason was simple: he wanted Zhang Yang’s market reports to continue.
With the students’ returns soaring, it brought him honor and allowed him to stand tall.
The Huaxin Simulated Trading Competition was a joint contest among several finance universities, akin to a joint exam before graduation. Shanghai University of Finance and Economics had long been overshadowed by Huazhong and Southwestern Finance Universities. Now, with a legitimate way to push back, how could he not support it?
“I’ve noted it,” Tao Yu’ang nodded slightly.
He didn’t linger and, after a few polite words, left.
He didn’t really know why Wang Xingbang was protecting Zhang Yang, but now that things had come this far, he had no choice but to mediate personally.
...
As night fell, a gentle breeze swept through the Tulip Fields of Pujiang Countryside Park, carrying the scent of flowers into the brightly lit campsite.
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Technically, overnight stays were prohibited here, with patrols enforcing the rule.
But Wang Liu broke the park’s regulation with just a single cigarette.
Though some places have endless rules, a little flexibility can often help avoid many troubles.
At this moment, Zhang Yang, He Jing, and Xu Zhiruo sat in a circle, while Wang Liu propped himself up with trembling arms. Zhuang Yingmeng sat against his waist, covering her laughing mouth.
“Number 14, keep it up!”
“Come on, Liu, six more push-ups!”
“Liu, can you handle it?”
Wang Liu wanted to say he was done, but a man’s last shred of dignity pushed him to bend and slowly straighten his arms.
“Fifteen, keep going!”
“Sixteen!”
“Seventeen!”
“Keep going, keep going!”
“Liu, you can do it!”
With everyone cheering, Wang Liu completed twenty weighted push-ups, drenched in sweat, beads rolling down his forehead.
Afterward, Zhuang Yingmeng smiled and handed him some tissues to wipe his sweat. “Are you okay?”
“A piece of cake,” Wang Liu said stubbornly, though still gasping for breath.
“Another twenty!”
Chen Chuan chuckled.
Hearing this, Wang Liu jumped up, scolding, “No way! No beast would make me do twenty more!”
“Let’s continue the game.”
He glanced at the playing cards in the center.
They were playing “Poker Minefield.” A deck of 54 cards was used, and each player received a punishment card on which a penalty was written.
If ten people played, ten cards were marked as “bombs.”
After writing punishments on the blank cards and shuffling, players decided the first drawer by rock-paper-scissors.
If a player drew a bomb card, they had to perform the punishment written on it.
Wang Liu drew a bomb card and was forced to do twenty push-ups.
After removing the “push-ups” bomb card, the next player, Chen Chuan, drew six cards in a row, returning the first five and revealing the sixth.
“Heart Ace, no penalty.”
The blank card saved Chen Chuan, and the turn passed.
“Diamond Four, blank.”
“Club Two, blank.”
“Club Seven, blank.”
As cards were drawn, the chance of hitting a bomb increased.
When it was Zhang Yang’s turn, he casually flipped a card—Diamond Eight—with “Sing a pop song” clearly written on it.
“Oh no!”
“The dorm leader singing? I’ve never heard that.”
Xu Jiafeng looked curious.
“Me neither.”
“Same here.”
Everyone chimed in.
Zhang Yang smiled faintly. “The thing is, I’m off-key and usually embarrassed to sing. Honestly, I haven’t sung much even in private.”
“No worries, your first time—we accept it,” Chen Chuan laughed.
“All right, bear with me.”
Zhang Yang didn’t hesitate; he used the MP3 function on his old Nokia phone to play Wang Lihong’s “The Only One” and gently sang along.
(My sky is so clear)
(Transparent promises are like air from the past)
(Holding my hand is you)
Zhang Yang’s vocal quality was above average. As he sang the first line, Wang Liu couldn’t help but mentally scoff, “Is this what you call off-key?”
“Stop charming us, dorm leader!” Xu Jiafeng shouted silently.
He glanced around and noticed the girls’ eyes had changed, even his goddess Xu Zhiruo was fixed intently on Zhang Yang.
Entering the chorus, the rough conditions and poor sound quality only amplified Zhang Yang’s unwavering love and shared hardship.
(Baby, you’re my only one)
(Our two worlds are distorted)
(It’s so hard to go back)
At this moment, he looked at everyone with deep affection, as if embodying the passionate character in the song.
He Jing had never imagined Zhang Yang could sing—that was a bonus.
In university, most girls prioritized looks and talent when choosing partners.
As for money?
That only matters after life’s harsh lessons.
The night’s light could not fully banish the darkness; the interplay of light and shadow highlighted Zhang Yang’s profile, making his sharp features even more distinct.
Xu Zhiruo was momentarily stunned, whispering, “So handsome...”
The other girls were equally transfixed, their eyes full of admiration.
The song ended.
Zhang Yang smiled slightly and modestly said, “It’s been so long since I last sang. Please forgive any off-key parts.”
“*Clap clap clap*”
“Sounds amazing! You’re a singing god!”
“Not just technique, but emotion—full marks!”
“Beautiful, beautiful!”
Everyone cheered enthusiastically. As friends, they would flatter each other even if the singing was poor. But since Zhang Yang’s skill was solid, he surpassed most campus singers.
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