The next morning.
Autumn sunlight spilled over the stone-paved road leading into the suburban villa district, glinting off the polished silver-gray sedan. The car rolled to a smooth stop at the gate. The security scanner flashed across the license plate, then opened slowly with a low hum.
Lin Hao stepped out, his expression calm, as if last night had never happened.
The early breeze carried the faint chill of lingering dew. Rows of maple trees had already begun to turn, leaves scattering across the ground in a painting of quiet elegance—a sharp contrast to the chaos he'd lived through less than ten hours ago.
The front door opened. From the dining room, a cheerful voice called out:
"Big brother, you're back!"
Lin Xiao Ning, sixteen, barefoot with a half-melting ice cream in hand, came running like a gust of wind. Her bright round eyes and carefree smile were the perfect picture of youth.
"Where did you sleep last night? Mom and Dad kept asking!"
"At a friend's place." Lin Hao ruffled her hair lightly, his tone breezy. "Don't tell Dad."
Xiao Ning pouted, feigning sternness.
"You'll get punished if you sneak out to play!"
But within seconds, her act broke. She burst into laughter and skipped back to the table to finish her melting ice cream.
From the sofa, Lin Zhi Yong looked up from his newspaper. The man in his fifties was tall but lean, his sharp gaze hidden behind a pair of reading glasses.
"Good you're home," he said evenly. "Don't stir up trouble. Two weeks until college starts. Prepare yourself properly."
A simple sentence, yet heavy with expectation.
Lin Zhi Yong was a seasoned man. He knew his son was intelligent, decisive—but also fiercely independent, unpredictable.
"I know," Lin Hao replied, his voice calm, his eyes steady.
From the kitchen, Madam Wu Yue Lan emerged with a steaming cup of tea. Her voice was softer than her husband's.
"After breakfast, talk to your father about your major. He wants to hear your choice."
"Mm." His reply was brief, as always.
Without another word, Lin Hao headed upstairs.
The door clicked shut behind him, sealing away the warmth and noise of the household. His room was tidy, the autumn breeze slipping through the half-open curtains, stirring the silence.
Lin Hao stood still at his desk, his eyes deep in thought.
In his mind, fragments of the woman from last night replayed like a blurred reel—cold, proud, her gaze so lofty it was as if he were invisible.
He didn't know her name. He wasn't sure if he needed to.
But the way she had looked at him, as though he were beneath contempt… it gnawed at him.
Not because his pride was wounded.
But because—he had been challenged.
He opened his laptop. The screen lit up with streams of shifting stock charts, numbers flashing red and green. His trading account appeared, an eight-digit figure gleaming cold and intoxicating.
All summer he had been drowning in numbers—reading books, tracking markets, sketching graphs, filling two entire notebooks with notes. At first, his parents thought it was just another phase. Until…
One million yuan sat in his account.
Money he had earned himself.
Not inherited. Not borrowed. Every cent carved out by reason, discipline… and calculation.
A knock came at the door.
"Come in."
Phan Tong popped his head in, grinning like always. His childhood friend, with a sunshine smile that made it seem like nothing in the world was ever worth worrying about.
"Aunt Wu said you're home, so I came straight over. You vanished all day yesterday—I thought you got kidnapped."
"Busy," Lin Hao said without looking up, eyes still on the screen. "Checking something interesting."
Tong strolled over, eyes widening at the flickering numbers.
"Stocks again? You're like an old man reborn."
"Better than wasting life in bars," Lin Hao said lazily, his words landing sharp.
Tong winced, then laughed. "I just like to have fun. But seriously… did you actually make money?"
"A fair bit."
"How much?"
"Almost a million."
Tong nearly choked.
"Damn… You're eighteen and already made a million?! Don't tell me this is some scam."
"All self-taught. Bought, sold, tracked myself," Lin Hao said, voice flat. "I'm eyeing a startup. NextStep Studio. Game and app development. I want to invest. Just capital, no management."
"Holy hell… that's huge. How much stake?"
"At least fifty percent."
Tong froze. His playful grin faded, replaced by genuine shock.
He had always known Lin Hao was sharp. But this—this was something else. Ruthless, calculated, insane even.
"You're crazy… but I'm in. From now on, I should call you President Hao!"
Lin Hao chuckled, the sound as light and drifting as steam from a fresh cup of coffee.
"President Hao," huh? The title… didn't sound bad.
But even as he smiled, the image of her remained.
That woman, with eyes as cold as winter glass—
She would learn soon enough that some men could not be dismissed with a single mistaken night.