Chapter 2: Repayment

Zhuang Chen also stood up, following the other to the door. He absentmindedly stroked his wallet, his emotions tangled. “For an orphan, today’s events are simply too unbelievable, so…”

“No, no, no!” Davis stepped in front of Zhuang Chen, gently patted his shoulder, and with the air of a kindly elder, helped to straighten his collar. In a warm tone, he said, “From my point of view, your reaction was already excellent. Faced with such a fortune, I truly believe no one could have handled it better. There’s no question about that!”

Zhuang Chen saw encouragement in the old man’s eyes. He extended both hands sincerely. “I wish my uncle happiness in heaven.”

Davis nodded with a gentle smile, turned, and as he opened the door to leave, he looked back and reminded him again, “Please remember Mr. Wade’s promise. If you have any request at all, call immediately!”

Leaving the law firm, Zhuang Chen found, just as Davis had said, that he encountered no one on his way out. It wasn’t until he returned to the bustling street that he felt as if he’d awoken from a dream.

“It must all be real…”

He gazed at the wallet in his hand, took a deep breath, and pulled out a small notebook from his pocket. In it, names and matters were densely recorded. He muttered to himself, “If you have money, pay your debts first.”

He headed to a nearby bank. There was a crowd, so he went to the self-service ticket machine at the entrance. A staff member approached and asked, “Please scan your card for a ticket. What service do you need?”

Zhuang Chen produced his diamond card from this bank and asked, “Transfer—how do I proceed?”

“Oh!” The staff member’s eyes widened at the sight of the dazzling diamond card. “My apologies, sir. You’re a top-tier VIP. No need to wait—please follow me to the VIP lounge.”

Zhuang Chen nodded and followed him into the adjacent VIP lounge, where a middle-aged man promptly greeted him. “Welcome, sir. I’m the senior client manager. How can I assist you today?”

Zhuang Chen handed over his diamond card and explained, “I want to make some transfers. Do you have paper and a pen? There are quite a few names.”

The manager’s eyes lit up. He quickly provided paper and pen with great respect. “Of course, sir. As a top-tier VIP, there are no restrictions on transfer amounts or quantity. Please take your time listing names and accounts—any domestic bank is fine.”

Zhuang Chen nodded, picked up the pen, and began to write. The first page contained only two names. In his mind appeared the image of a kindly old woman, who had cared for him like family for eighteen years, tirelessly providing for the orphanage until her final breath.

A silkworm spins until its last thread,
A candle burns to ashes before its tears are spent.

Without the orphanage director’s grandmotherly love, he dared not imagine where he would be today…

He wrote down the charity account for the orphanage, hesitated for a moment, and finally entered three million. That figure felt just right—neither forced nor extravagant.

The second was his master. The old man had passed away last year, having taught him to cook for four years. Though he nagged often, saying things like “master a single skill and you’ll never go hungry,” and “a trade is the foundation of life,” and “no one suffers from knowing too much.”

After leaving the orphanage at eighteen, his master gave him shelter once more and the means to support himself—like a second father.

He wrote down the account and three million; he remembered that his master’s widow would receive a text notification.

He turned to the next page, densely covered with names. Each name brought back memories, moments of kindness. Though he’d grown up in an orphanage, enduring the world’s indifference, there were always those who had truly helped him. Without them, he wouldn’t be where he was.

A drop of water repaid with a spring.

He carried this little ledger everywhere, a constant reminder to work hard. With his master and the director gone, he had no ties in his hometown and had come straight to the capital, hoping to carve out his own place in the shadow of the emperor.

Fifty thousand… one hundred thousand… two hundred thousand…

He filled an entire large sheet. Throughout, the client manager maintained a courteous smile, personally serving him hot tea. When Zhuang Chen finished, the manager collected the list and diamond card. “Would you like these transfers to be anonymous, sir?”

Zhuang Chen was taken aback, then after a moment’s thought, replied, “Yes, anonymously. Thank you.”

“A total of seven million six hundred thousand, to twenty-eight people. Please confirm that everything is correct.”

Zhuang Chen nodded, and the transfers were processed immediately. In less than twenty minutes, it was all done. The manager returned his list and card with both hands, respectfully. “Please keep these safe. Is there anything else you need?”

Finally, Zhuang Chen exhaled in relief. It seemed he truly had become wealthy overnight. He thought for a moment, then handed over his regular debit card. “Please transfer five million to this account as well.”

He left the banking hall, went to the ATM, and looked at his balance—where once there had been only nine thousand, now there was a string of zeros. He couldn’t help but burst into laughter.

For the first time ever, he felt an unparalleled sense of freedom. This must be what it means to walk unburdened by debt.

He withdrew twenty thousand in cash, determined to buy the latest iPhone and toss his four-year-old Xiaomi straight into the bin.

He’d thought about taking a taxi back to his rented basement room, but then realized—everything of value was with him. Why hold on to junk?

He headed straight to Xidan to buy some new clothes. After all, he was now a billionaire; even if he wished to keep a low profile, he couldn’t go around dressed entirely in Baleno.

He entered Wangfujing Department Store, found a Nike shop, picked out two sets of sportswear and shoes, and put them on immediately before heading out to stroll the streets.

Beijing truly lived up to its reputation. So many international luxury brands—chic window displays where a single dress shirt cost five or six thousand, a suit twenty or thirty thousand—opened his eyes.

After circling the mall, he hadn’t bought anything else. In the past, he’d only grit his teeth and buy new clothes at street stalls for the holidays.

He remembered his first paycheck—he’d eagerly gone to the pedestrian mall and bought two Metersbonwe shirts, secretly thrilled for days. Now, even as a newly minted tycoon, he couldn’t just spend recklessly. Things had to be worth their price.

After a moment’s thought, he finally took out that mysterious business card and, for the first time, dialed the number. In less than two seconds, a crisp, pleasant voice answered, “Mr. Zhuang, how may I assist you?”

“Uh, I want to buy some clothes now, but…” Zhuang Chen was a little nervous—it was his first time calling. He composed himself and said, “I don’t really know how to choose, so…”

“You mean you need a professional image consultant?” the voice asked.

He breathed a sigh of relief. “Yes, just someone who knows about these things.”

“Understood. Please tell me your exact location. A professional consultant will arrive within half an hour. Is there anything else you require?”

“No, that’s all.”

“Then enjoy your shopping, and we look forward to serving you again.”

Zhuang Chen hung up; the entire call lasted less than two minutes. He sat in a nearby lounge. Would a professional image consultant really arrive within half an hour?

Was this service truly so magical?

“Hello, are you Mr. Zhuang?”