For most reborn men, investment was simple: buy stocks, buy real estate, and wait for the money to roll in.
But Anshin was no ordinary reborn. He was a police officer.
If he suddenly became rich, if he one day climbed to the level of a tycoon, whispers would follow him everywhere. The higher-ups would investigate. The public would doubt.
So he needed a flawless paper trail.
Receipts. Invoices. Witnesses. A chain of evidence to prove every yuan was earned cleanly, by his own hand, through investment.
But there was another question: how could a rookie cop, who had never studied finance, suddenly think of investing—and succeed wildly?
That was why, before selling his home, he had gone to the bookstore. He had purchased a mountain of investment manuals. He had spoken at length with the owner about Shanghai's stock exchange, about futures. He had deliberately dropped bold words:
"Investment is the future. If I could, I'd sell my house and put everything into stocks."
In the year 2000, only madmen sold their homes to gamble in the market. That sentence would brand itself into the shopkeeper's memory. They even exchanged numbers.
This was preparation.
He would return to the store, speak again, reinforce the memory. He would talk to others, leave crumbs of proof everywhere.
At home, he would flip through the books, page after page, leaving them worn, dog-eared, annotated. He would scrawl notes, mark strategies, list stock names to watch.
If years later investigators scrutinized him, they would find piles of weathered pages. They would examine his handwriting, test the ink, date the paper—and conclude he had indeed studied investments back in 2000.
Perfect. Unassailable.
He would not just make money. He would make it impossible for anyone to say he had not earned it.
"From graduation, I studied the way of investment. After deep learning, I became a natural talent." That would be his story, and it would hold.
…
A few weeks later, he went to Director An.
"Sir, I'd like to request leave."
Director An, bald head gleaming, looked at him with disbelief. "You? Asking for leave?"
This was the young man who, even wounded, insisted on reporting for duty. What had changed?
"I want to clear my head, go away for a while," Anshin said.
The director studied him. Then he nodded. "Honestly, I was about to order you to take a break. That day you subdued the fugitive, you should have rested afterward. In our line, we brush shoulders with death every week. Don't think you're made of iron. Psychological rest is vital."
He chuckled. "And I hear you nabbed the Tang brothers even over the holiday. Still causing waves, eh?"
He clapped Anshin on the shoulder. "They're small fry. The bureau doesn't have time to chase every rat. Education, not elimination. They've sat twenty days, enough."
"Yes, sir," Anshin replied calmly.
The director blinked. That was new. He had expected protest, outrage, stubborn insistence. But the young man had agreed without a fight.
"Well then," Director An said, "since you're so agreeable, I'll grant it. You've hardly taken a day off since graduation. I'll give you ten days, paid."
His tone hardened.
"But one warning: don't go stirring trouble. In another city, without backup, you can't charge in headfirst. Keep yourself alive. Guard your uniform. That is the greatest victory against evil."
"Yes, sir!" Anshin saluted.
He was dismissed.
"Wait."
Director An pulled a folder from his desk.
"This is your commendation. That fugitive you caught? He's confessed. Five lives on his hands. A major case. Because it crossed provincial lines, and you're still fresh in the force, headquarters has only awarded you a commendation. If it were within our jurisdiction, it could have been a third-class, even second-class merit. But politics, you know…"
He handed over the certificate. "The whole bureau will be notified this afternoon. I'm giving you yours now."
Anshin's heart stirred. That fugitive was more valuable than he'd thought. Even the province had taken notice.
It wasn't a major merit. Not yet. But it was a start.
"Thank you, sir. When the bonus comes through, dinner's on me," Anshin said with a grin.
"Deal," the director replied cheerfully.
Only when Anshin left did he slap his forehead.
"Wait—how did I end up promising him dinner?"
…
In the corridor, the system chimed in his ear.
Ding!
[System Notification]
[Because you have received a commendation, you are awarded a special item skill!]