Ye’s mother had always harbored a deep-seated fear of the Zhao family.
Having grown up in the countryside, she didn’t fully grasp the power of the wealthy elite. But from the way Mrs. Zhao spoke of her daughter, Zhao Yijun, it was clear—Yijun was exceptional. And with the grudges of the past still lingering, the Zhao family had become an insurmountable nightmare in her mind.
Old Master Zhao had never hidden his disdain for her. She knew that.
But she absolutely could not let Ye Shaohua suffer their humiliation too. Her daughter, raised with such care, was brilliant in her own right. Yes, perhaps she wasn’t as accomplished as Zhao Yijun—but at least Ye’s mother could face Zhao Yan in the afterlife without shame.
Yet if they stayed in the capital any longer, the Zhao family would expose her secrets. And once that happened, Shaohua’s reputation would be tainted forever.
She had to leave. Now.
“The Zhao family?” Shaohua let out a cold laugh, then took her mother’s bag from her hands. She met her gaze steadily. “Mom, stay here. Don’t worry about them. If they dare lay a finger on you, I’ll make sure they regret it.”
Her calm confidence only made Ye’s mother more frantic. “Shaohua, I’m not joking. This is the Zhao family—they have connections with high-ranking officials! We can’t fight them! Just listen to me, please!”
She rambled off examples, desperate to make her daughter understand the gravity of the situation.
“Those rumors online? I’ve thought about it—it has to be Zhao Yijun’s doing. But what can ordinary people like us do against them?” Her voice trembled with helplessness.
Shaohua, who rarely had the patience to comfort anyone, sighed inwardly.
So the internet was right—once a woman digs her heels in, reasoning is pointless.
“Mom,” she interrupted, digging through her pockets until she pulled out a sleek black card. “Here.”
Ye’s mother froze. It was her first time seeing a black card in person.
“No more arguing. There’s twenty million in there,” Shaohua said flatly. “Spend it however you want. Hire a hundred bodyguards if you need to. Let’s see who dares touch you then.”
“T-Twenty… million?” Ye’s mother stammered, her mind blanking. “Shaohua, did I… mishear that?”
She had never even dreamed of such an amount. When Shaohua nodded, her mother’s eyes darted to Ji Yunchen standing beside her.
Even with her limited knowledge, she could tell his clothes were expensive. Her face paled. “Shaohua, tell me the truth—were those rumors about you being… kept… actually—?”
Shaohua massaged her temples, but before she could respond, Ji Yunchen smoothly pulled out his phone.
With a polite smile, he showed her the trending headlines. “Auntie, meet Asia’s newest stock market disruptor. The ‘Stock God Y’—care to learn more?”
His assistant, who had been waiting outside, stepped in promptly under Ji Yunchen’s glance. For the next several minutes, he meticulously explained Shaohua’s real identity—the woman behind million-dollar trades with a single stroke.
Ye’s mother stood shell-shocked. Her daughter? The one moving markets?
Before she could process it, she overheard Shaohua and Ji Yunchen discussing casually:
“How much to acquire Zhao Corporation?”
Ji Yunchen pondered. “Three billion. Tops.”
“Hmm. More than I thought,” Shaohua mused. “Might take a month. Mom, hang in there—by next month, I’ll make you a Zhao Corp board member.”
Ye’s mother numbly wiped her face. Words failed her.
A nurse who had come to change her IV stared at Shaohua, initially ready to dismiss her as delusional—until she recognized her.
This was the woman plastered across every financial headline. The one analysts called “the tremor in Asia’s economic pulse.”
…
“Stock God” wasn’t a title given lightly.
When top economists from M Country endorsed Shaohua’s prowess, her fame skyrocketed. Newspapers, magazines, financial reports—all led with her face.
The online frenzy dismantled past scandals overnight. A woman who earned millions in minutes, courted by global firms—being a kept mistress? “Do they think we’re idiots?” netizens scoffed.
Her influence spread so wide that even market aunties who’d never touched a stock knew her name.
M Country’s predicted future richest woman in Asia? No joke.
…
Meanwhile, Old Master Zhao, recuperating at home after warning Ye’s mother, called his butler. “Check if those two left the city.”
As the butler left, his phone rang—old friends, suddenly eager, congratulating him on his “remarkable granddaughter.”
Baffled, he hung up. Zhao Yijun was talented, yes, but they’d never gushed like this before. And why now, when the Zhao family’s status had waned?
Puzzled, he picked up the morning paper—and nearly dropped it.
Staring back at him was Ye Shaohua’s face.
The resemblance to Zhao Yijun was uncanny. His friends, aware of the past, had clearly connected the dots. Their calls weren’t just praise—they were offers. Partnership overtures.
And the headline, bold and unmissable:
[“The Financial Titan Shaking Asia’s Economy—Ye Shaohua!”]
