Chapter 2: The Lamborghini Call
The clock ticked past midnight, yet Lin Hao couldn't bring himself to sleep.
He sat on the edge of his bed, the lamp casting long shadows across the peeling wallpaper. The leather document bag lay open on his desk, the Lamborghini Equity Transfer Agreement inside glowing in his imagination like treasure.
He must have checked the documents ten times already, flipping through every page until he nearly memorized every clause. Yet each time his eyes landed on the embossed seals and his own signature, disbelief washed over him all over again.
He was a shareholder of Lamborghini.
Him. Lin Hao.
The same Lin Hao who only yesterday was eating instant noodles twice a day, who worried about rent every month, who got dumped by his girlfriend for not having money.
Now, his net worth rivaled tycoons. He could buy ten of the BMWs his ex-girlfriend had chosen over him and still not blink.
He leaned back, staring at the cracked ceiling, a wild grin spreading across his face.
"Two billion RMB… It's insane. This system is… insane."
But even in the height of his joy, doubts crept in.
Why him?
Why now?
What if it was some elaborate scam?
Yet the weight of the documents in his hands crushed those doubts. No scam in the world could forge this level of authenticity, not with the seals, the notarization, the legal clarity.
Still, his emotions swirled like a storm, too overwhelming to calm.
As if on cue, his cheap second-hand phone buzzed against the table. The sudden vibration startled him so badly he almost dropped the documents.
The screen flashed: Unknown Number.
His brows furrowed. Who would call him at this hour?
He hesitated before swiping to answer. "Hello?"
The voice that responded was crisp, professional, and tinged with a faint accent.
"Good evening, is this Mr. Lin Hao?"
Lin Hao's throat tightened. "Yes… this is him. Who's calling?"
"I'm Xu Yaqin, personal assistant to Mr. Lorenzo Rossi, the Asia-Pacific President of Lamborghini."
Lin Hao nearly choked on his own spit. "W-what?"
Xu Yaqin's tone remained steady, as if she were used to startling new billionaires. "We've received confirmation that the transfer of one percent Lamborghini equity has been finalized. Congratulations, Mr. Lin Hao. You are now officially a shareholder of Automobili Lamborghini S.p.A."
Lin Hao's heart skipped several beats. Even though he had already signed the documents, hearing the words spoken aloud made it feel terrifyingly real.
"Uh… th-thank you." His voice cracked embarrassingly, and he cleared his throat. "I mean—thank you very much."
"You're welcome. On behalf of the company, we extend our warmest welcome. President Rossi would like to personally greet you. Would you be available for a video call tomorrow afternoon? We will arrange everything."
Lin Hao's brain short-circuited.
President Rossi. The man at the helm of Lamborghini's Asia-Pacific empire. Someone who regularly appeared in international finance news. Someone who commanded respect across the automotive world.
And he—Lin Hao, who lived in a moldy ten-square-meter room—was about to speak with him directly.
The thought was absurd.
Yet Xu Yaqin's voice left no room for doubt.
Lin Hao forced his shaking voice into something resembling calm. "Yes… I'll make myself available."
"Excellent. Then I'll arrange the schedule. For convenience, may I ask for your WeChat ID? I'll send the details, as well as a car to pick you up for the call."
Lin Hao hesitated for a moment, glancing around at his peeling walls and battered furniture. The thought of a Lamborghini company car pulling up outside his shabby rental building made his face burn in shame.
"…Just send me the meeting link," he said quickly. "A car won't be necessary."
There was a brief pause on the other end, as though Xu Yaqin found his request unusual. But she was professional enough not to pry.
"Very well, Mr. Lin. Expect the details tomorrow morning. Once again, congratulations. Please rest well tonight."
The call ended with a soft click.
Lin Hao set the phone down on the desk with trembling hands. For a long moment, he just sat there, staring blankly into space.
His noodle cup sat cold and unfinished beside him, forgotten.
It was real. All of it.
The Lamborghini shares. The documents. The call.
Everything was real.
He buried his face in his hands, laughing breathlessly. It was half joy, half disbelief.
"Me… a Lamborghini shareholder. Hah…" His laugh turned into a cough, then a shaky sigh.
The weight of the day pressed down on him, exhaustion finally creeping in. He slid under the thin blanket, the agreement documents tucked safely beneath his pillow as though someone might steal them in the night.
Even in sleep, he tossed and turned, muttering half-coherent words—"shares," "two billion," "system"…
But dawn arrived regardless.
The next morning, sunlight streamed through the cracked windowpane, landing on Lin Hao's face. He blinked awake groggily, then bolted upright as memories of last night flooded back.
He scrambled to check under his pillow. The documents were still there. His heart calmed only slightly.
Before he could even wash his face, his phone buzzed again.
[WeChat Message: Xu Yaqin]
— Good morning, Mr. Lin. The video meeting with President Rossi has been scheduled for 2:00 PM. A secure link is attached below. Please ensure you are in a quiet, professional environment.
Lin Hao read the message twice. His chest tightened. Professional environment?
He glanced around his room—peeling paint, cracked desk, laundry hanging in the corner. This was the opposite of professional.
Panic surged through him. He couldn't appear like this to Lamborghini's president. If Rossi saw his living conditions, wouldn't he doubt his credibility?
Lin Hao grabbed his wallet and bolted out the door.
At noon, he sat in a small café down the street, laptop open, sipping on a coffee that cost almost as much as one of his usual meals. The café was quiet, modern, with clean décor and soft background music. It would have to do.
His palms were sweaty as he adjusted the camera angle, trying to make sure no one could see the cracked zipper on his jacket or the cheap phone in his hand.
At exactly 2:00 PM, the screen flickered. The meeting room opened.
On the other side appeared a man in his fifties, tall and sharp-featured, his silver hair combed back with European elegance. He wore a tailored suit, the Lamborghini logo pin gleaming on his lapel.
Even through the screen, his presence was overwhelming.
"Mr. Lin Hao," he said in smooth English, his Italian accent evident. "Welcome to Lamborghini."
Lin Hao's throat went dry. He swallowed hard, forcing a polite smile.
"It's… an honor to be here."