Lin Cheng didn't rush.
He had learned that haste was the enemy of precision. Fifteen years ago, every decision he had made in panic had cost him billions. This time, he would act with patience. Every move would count. Every second mattered.
The laptop sat open on his desk, the glow reflecting faintly on his sharp features. Across the screen, a small, obscure company hovered in the quiet corner of the market. Ignored by most investors. No headlines. No hype. Only potential.
In his previous life, this stock had been insignificant, a tiny ripple lost in the ocean of the market—until a leak of insider information had caused it to surge overnight.
He had laughed at the news at first, unaware that the pattern had destroyed his empire piece by piece. Now, he had the knowledge, and this time, he would be the ripple that started the wave.
Lin Cheng's fingers hovered over the keyboard. He didn't type immediately. He observed. Studied. Checked the time. The market would open soon. Three minutes. Enough to prepare, not enough to waste.
Outside, the city was alive in its usual rhythm. Students argued about assignments. Taxi horns pierced the evening air. Couples wandered past the university gates, unaware that a storm was quietly forming in the hands of a young man in a dusty dorm room.
He opened a spreadsheet, comparing the company's data with his memory of the future. Prices. Investments. Competitors. Insider patterns. He didn't flinch at the numbers. He didn't panic. He knew.
When it came time, he would act.
Lin Cheng's lips curved faintly, the ghost of a smile that held neither arrogance nor joy—only intent.
He transferred the funds. All of it. The entire savings he had painstakingly accumulated over the past few months. Enough to create the first domino. Enough to start a chain reaction.
The transfer completed in seconds. His heart rate remained steady. Calm. Collected. In the future, he had hesitated here. Hesitation had cost him millions and put him in Zhao Minghao's crosshairs.
Not this time.
He leaned back, folding his arms across his chest, eyes still on the screen. Across campus, students laughed. Professors argued in the lecture halls. The market outside was a chaotic storm of numbers and opportunity—but none of them knew that tonight, someone had already placed the first piece in motion.
The clock ticked. Two minutes left. One minute left. Thirty seconds.
He remembered that exact second from the previous timeline. He had been asleep. Helpless. Watching everything collapse without a clue.
Not tonight.
Lin Cheng's mind ran ahead, calculating possible outcomes. Three possibilities: the stock surges early, it crashes, or it fluctuates just enough for him to increase leverage. He had already accounted for each outcome in advance. Failure wasn't an option; it was simply impossible.
His phone buzzed. An unknown number. He ignored it. Time was more valuable than curiosity.
The market opened.
Numbers jumped. Lin Cheng didn't blink.
At first, nothing significant happened. The stock remained almost static, barely moving. A ripple, a breath of wind. Then, as predicted, the pattern began. Small trades triggered others. Unseen orders were matched. The stock climbed by fractions of a percent. Not enough to be noticed by the casual observer—but enough.
Lin Cheng's lips twitched. He leaned forward, scanning the data. He adjusted his positions subtly, ensuring every penny worked toward the larger goal. He didn't celebrate. This wasn't luck. This was precision. Calculated, cold, unshakable.
He remembered Zhao Minghao again, smiling on the phone years ago, pretending to care. He remembered how the betrayal had felt like a knife pressed into his back, sharp, slow, unstoppable. Now, he was the blade. Now, he controlled the timing, the pressure, the outcome.
The ripple became a wave. The stock climbed faster. Automated traders, algorithms, and small investors reacted instinctively, unaware that a single man was pulling invisible strings.
Lin Cheng's account balance updated in real time. The numbers climbed steadily, doubling, tripling, surging beyond expectation. He leaned back in his chair, calm, watching. No excitement, no exclamation. Only observation.
Three minutes had passed since the opening bell.
And then—a ping. A notification from a financial forum. Someone had noticed the movement. Not the specifics, just the anomaly.
He smirked faintly.
Good.
Someone was already chasing the ripple. That was exactly what he wanted. Another wave to ride. Another set of hands unknowingly aiding his plan.
Lin Cheng shut the laptop carefully, as if closing a book only he understood. He stood and walked to the window, gazing down at the lights of the city below. It sparkled like a web of possibilities. Every light, a move. Every shadow, a hidden opportunity.
Fifteen years ago, he would have dreamed of owning this city, controlling even a small piece of it. Now, he was starting over, armed with memory, experience, and patience. The chessboard was set. The first piece moved.
Across the city, in a sleek glass office tower, an older man leaned over a report on his desk. Chen Guoan. Calm, observant, precise. His eyes narrowed at the market data on the screen.
"Who made this move?" Chen Guoan murmured.
No one answered.
The old man's lips curved faintly into a smile.
Interesting.
Lin Cheng didn't know it yet, but he had been noticed. Already, the first ripple of attention had reached someone powerful, someone capable of shaping his path. A silent acknowledgment, a test he didn't even realize he was walking into.
He returned to his desk. The numbers were still climbing. Every step, every dollar, every subtle maneuver was working exactly as planned.
And yet… patience. Always patience. One wrong move, and the dominoes would collapse. He would need to wait, calculate, observe the reactions of the market, the people, and the unseen hands now turning in his favor or against him.
The night deepened. Lights in the city flickered and shifted. Most people were asleep. The market would settle soon. But Lin Cheng remained awake, alert, aware. He could feel the first change in the air—a butterfly effect he alone had caused, a chain of events that would ripple forward, unseen, until no one remembered what had existed before.
And when it did, he would be ready.
He allowed himself a single thought before the clock ticked past midnight.
Everything I lost the first time… I will claim again. And more.