The day after his eighteenth birthday, academic underachiever Wang Shuang discovered the secret to wealth.
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Aside from Wen Ying and a few close friends, no one knew Wang Shuang now held company shares. When Wang Jun gave him the shares, he’d said Wang Shuang could do whatever he wanted with them, and he wouldn’t interfere anymore.
“You keep the company dividends and spend them however you like!”
Those were Wang Jun’s public words at the coming-of-age ceremony, which moved Wang Shuang deeply.
After all, just the day before turning eighteen, Wang Shuang was a student with a 2,000-yuan monthly allowance. Overnight, he could freely spend company dividends—what a massive leap!
Wang Shuang was thrilled for two full days before it dawned on him.
Something felt off.
Though he was now a Tianjiao shareholder, the over 400,000 yuan he’d cashed out from selling his “Prawn King” shares had been handed to his dad for investment. Now that Wang Jun had directly transferred the company shares to him, Wang Shuang didn’t need to pay for the investment, but the 400,000 yuan he’d given up? Wang Jun hadn’t mentioned returning it…
For now, Tianjiao’s shares were untouchable, like a mirage quenching thirst. Wang Shuang’s pocket money still came from his 2,000-yuan part-time job at Tianjiao, and Yuan Fenghui wouldn’t give a cent more—at least not until dividends kicked in!
Though Wang Jun said the shares were Wang Shuang’s to handle, if he acted recklessly, like selling them off, he’d lose a leg—or both, if Wang Jun was ruthless!
With less than a year until the college entrance exam, heavy schoolwork, and part-time work not guaranteed monthly, the 2,000 yuan wasn’t always certain. Realising he was the poorest rich second-generation, Wang Shuang was devastated.
The poorest rich heir treated his friends to fried skewers at the school gate. Thinking of his dwindling allowance, he ordered Tang Yifeng and Geng Xiao to take more veggies and less meat.
Li Mengjiao, about to grab ribs, reluctantly switched to dried tofu, rolling her eyes at Wang Shuang:
“Your dad gave you so many shares, why are you getting stingier?”
Wang Shuang waved it off, “Take whatever you want. Teacher Yuan won’t let you eat much anyway. You eating all meat won’t bankrupt me. I wasn’t talking to you!”
He shared his analysis with his friends, slamming his dad’s cunning.
“I’ve got the shares, but you don’t know how broke I am now!”
“Tell me, tell me, what my dad did—isn’t this the old ginger being spicier, sly as a fox, tough as nails—oi, Tang Yifeng, you’re getting carried away!”
Tang Yifeng, not keen on eating, piled on 100 beef skewers when Wang Shuang complained about being poor. Wang Shuang yelled in frustration, while Li Mengjiao, amused by his antics, laughed until her stomach hurt.
Wang Shuang turned to Xie Qian for help, “Xie God, you’re different. You’ll take a fair stance.”
Xie Qian commented fairly, “Your grades have improved, and you’re using idioms now. Whether they’re right or not, at least you’re trying.”
Wang Shuang’s face flushed red.
Wen Ying didn’t pile on, comforting him, “Come on, don’t act like you’ve been wronged after getting a deal. Tianjiao will pay dividends eventually. Your poverty’s temporary. Look at us—who’s as comfortable as you? It’s not about the shares’ value, but your dad’s trust in your ability. We’re all jealous!”
Xie Qian also held Jinhu Group shares, but they couldn’t be used immediately, and Xie Jinghu gave them reluctantly.
Tang Yifeng and Geng Xiao came from decent families, but not as wealthy as Wang Shuang’s. Plus, Wang Jun doted on his son. At their age, neither Tang Yifeng nor Geng Xiao could control assets like Wang Shuang.
Wen Ying was even further behind. Her family was on a different level. She was building her wealth from scratch. Though she’d earned some money, her background paled compared to her friends’.
Wang Shuang’s privileged life stemmed from his family’s warmth. Wang Jun was rich but didn’t start another family outside like Xie Jinghu. Everything at home would eventually be Wang Shuang’s, so the shares were transferred early. The Wang family showered him with love… Wen Ying felt the money wasn’t the point. Living in such a family was a blessing in itself.
Sure, Wang Jun exuded nouveau riche vibes, but if Xie Qian had to choose, he’d probably prefer Wang Jun as a dad, right?
Comforted by Wen Ying, Wang Shuang asked what he should do next to prove his worth. Wen Ying couldn’t hold back a laugh, like Li Mengjiao:
“Prove what? Quit school to run Tianjiao? Don’t take this the wrong way, but even full-time, you wouldn’t outdo Teacher Yuan. Being a shareholder isn’t the same as being a manager!”
Harsh but true.
Wang Shuang wasn’t deaf to reason. He slumped in his chair, like a frostbitten eggplant, “I can’t compare to Teacher Yuan. She’s been in the industry for years. What’s there to compete with? Fine, I’ll stop messing around… but can I really do nothing?”
Xie Qian glanced at him.
Can’t even study well, yet want to split focus?
Not everyone’s a business genius. Not every rich second-generation is a trailblazer. Guarding wealth is sometimes harder than creating it. Successful first-generation tycoons had ability, opportunity, and luck—things their kids can’t replicate.
Without knowing if you’re a trailblazer, staying put beats reckless moves. Caution trumps aggression!
“You can still study,” Xie Qian reminded Wang Shuang seriously, “Your grades improved, and your dad gave you Tianjiao shares. Keep improving, and he’ll give you more.”
This was Wang Shuang’s unique wealth code. Until he had greater ability, studying was all he could grasp.
The golden house in books might not exist for others, but for Wang Shuang, it was real.
That was his father’s heavy, hopeful love for his son’s success!
…
Wen Ying pondered for two days, still undecided about accepting Tianjiao’s shares. Xie Qian let her decide, and learning from past mistakes, Wen Ying chose to consult her parents… or rather, her dad, Wen Dongrong.
Wen Dongrong’s work environment gave him unique insight into such matters.
Their father-daughter bond was always a bit artificial. Wen Ying didn’t reveal everything, only saying someone wanted to give her a valuable gift and asking for advice.
Wen Dongrong was wary, “How valuable? Who’s giving it? What’s their motive?”
“Very valuable, hard to estimate exactly, but in the future, it’ll definitely be worth more than our two houses in Rongcheng combined…”
Wen Dongrong relaxed.
Oh, then it’s not an indirect bribe.
He’d feared the gift was a pretext to bribe him. When Wen Ying said it was worth more than their two houses, he snapped awake—he wasn’t worth such a hefty bribe!
