“It’s just an exaggerated title,” Ye Shaohua smiled lightly. “As you know, many professionals in this field don’t even bother with stocks. I’ll admit—luck played a part.”
The host chuckled. “You’re being modest. The sudden rise of ‘Y’ has made waves overseas. Even that top financial analyst from the U.S. mentioned wanting to collaborate with you in a recent report.”
The moment these words were spoken, the previously confused live chat erupted:
[HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT—Y?! You’ve gotta be kidding me!]
[This is that international finance channel that only invites legends?!]
[Bro, I thought I was hallucinating! My professor just analyzed her last week—whole class debated her identity!]
[Wait… who’s ‘Y’? Weren’t we here to trash Ye Shaohua for being a gold-digger?]
[Google it. Finance forums have deep dives on Y. As for the gold-digging claim—maybe rethink that before embarrassing yourself further.]
[Let me break it down: Y’s the rookie goddess of stocks. Every investor’s idol. ‘Stock Market God’ is her nickname. Since her debut, she’s maneuvered 30 mil—no, 70 mil—in market value.]
Those who’d mocked Ye Shaohua for “faking” her earnings now felt their faces sting.
“Ms. Ye, you’ve declined countless invitations before—why appear now?” the host probed.
Ye Shaohua’s expression turned solemn. “I heard this platform validates success. But more importantly… I want my mother to know her daughter is her pride.”
“Any future plans? Fenghua Group’s team mentioned lobbying you endlessly,” the host pressed, starry-eyed. “Corporate work? Overseas expansion?”
“Not for now,” Ye Shaohua smiled. “I’ve fought solo this far. Old habits die hard.”
“…”
By the midway point, hate comments had vanished from the stream—replaced by waves of [BOW TO THE QUEEN] and [666].
…
The livestream’s audience included Yi Xian and Zhao Yijun, who’d arranged a viewing party to “ease” Zhao’s anxieties.
Zhao Yijun had slept soundly—though her deliberately haggard makeup amplified Yi Xian’s disdain for Ye Shaohua.
“She’s done for,” Yi Xian declared. “First seducing Yizhou, now cozying up to Fenghua? Even the Yellow River couldn’t wash her clean.”
To cement Liu Yizhou’s disillusionment, Yi Xian dragged him to watch.
Liu Yizhou moved like a ghost, hollow-eyed since arrival. As countdown timers flashed in the chat, Zhao Yijun glanced at him—he hadn’t looked her way once.
This isn’t… control. A chill crept up her spine.
Then the screen brightened. A crisp male voice introduced—
Y.
Zhao Yijun’s American finance degree made her hyper-aware of this phenomenon. Her professor had called to urge tracking Y’s movements.
Every stock Y touched—seemingly random picks—defied market crashes. Ordinary investors began shadowing her trades, initially mocked as “suicidal.” Until the copycats grew rich.
Now, the whole network hunted for Y’s next move.
But Y was a ghost. No corporate headhunter could trace her.
To finance circles, Y embodied their wildest aspirations.
Liu Yizhou and Zhao Yijun had fantasized about meeting Y—imagining the host’s awestruck expression.
Yet nothing prepared Zhao Yijun for the truth:
Ye Shaohua was Y.
Impossible. The world’s gone mad.
She’d investigated Ye Shaohua thoroughly after learning of her existence—even tracked down Ye’s mother. Their backgrounds had made her sneer.
When Liu Yizhou took Ye as a stand-in, Zhao Yijun felt a twisted pride:
This girl only ever deserved to mimic me.
Until Liu Yizhou’s drunken birthday murmur—Ye Shaohua’s name—shattered the illusion.
A stand-in had stolen the lead role.
So Zhao Yijun orchestrated the smear campaign, expecting Ye Shaohua to crumble—to beg for sympathy with her mother’s illness.
Instead—
Y.
The one figure even Zhao Yijun wouldn’t dare claim to surpass.
Her throat dried as she recalled Liu Yizhou praising Y weeks prior. She turned stiffly toward him—
“Yizhou…?”
His expression turned her blood to ice.
