After Divorce, I Can Hear the Future

Chapter 82: Taking Money is Greed, Taking Guns is Rebellion

"Becoming a pioneer in the new energy industry? That sounds exhilarating!"

Half an hour later, Lu Liang, feeling light-headed and weak-kneed, climbed out of the hot spring. Despite his exhaustion, he had made up his mind.

Others feared being dragged down or never seeing the dawn of success, but he wasn’t afraid. To him, money was meant to be used. Only earning and never spending would eventually turn him into a fat pig waiting for slaughter.

The next morning, Lu Liang arrived at the administrative street in Xinpu to undergo questioning by the CSRC.

“Mr. Lu, please don’t worry. This is just a routine inquiry. There’s no need to feel pressured,” Zhao Jisheng said with a friendly smile as he invited Lu Liang into the office, followed by two note-takers.

Crossing one leg over the other and sipping coffee, Lu Liang grinned, “Team Leader Zhao, do I look nervous to you?”

Zhao smiled but didn’t pursue the topic further. “Shall we formally begin, then?”

“Sure,” Lu Liang nodded.

“A while back, international gold prices surged, so I was optimistic about the gold and jewelry eco-park Teli A was building,” Lu Liang replied smoothly.

“Then why did you sell 42,022 lots of stock on July 16th, 17th, and 18th, at prices ranging from 31.45 to 34.25 yuan?”

“I was indeed optimistic about Teli A, but I didn’t think it was worth that much. So, I sold some shares at the peak.”

“And why weren’t you optimistic about it at that time?”

“Just a feeling,” Lu Liang answered with a laugh.

Zhao chuckled and let the topic slide. Without evidence of market manipulation, they would have to accept any explanation Lu Liang gave, even if he claimed divine inspiration.

Zhao continued, “Afterward, Teli A’s price peaked at 48.25 yuan per share. Why didn’t you sell more then?”

“Don’t get me started,” Lu Liang sighed. “I was expecting it to hit 50 yuan per share. Instead, I had to watch it drop right in front of me.”

“Didn’t Mr. Li tell you anything?”

“Mr. Li? Who’s that?”

“Li Jianlin from Zhongxin Fuying.”

“I’ve heard of him, but I don’t recall much about him,” Lu Liang said nonchalantly.

The subsequent questions were similarly inconsequential. Whenever Zhao asked about individuals like Wu Junle or others, Lu Liang claimed he didn’t know them.

Half an hour later, the routine questioning ended. With a beaming smile, Zhao Jisheng watched as Lu Liang drove away.

One of the note-takers, puzzled, asked, “Team Leader Zhao, are we just letting him go like this?”

Zhao reprimanded him coldly, “Mind your words. If there’s guilt, it’s called letting them off. If there’s no guilt, there’s nothing to let go of.”

Having reviewed all of Lu Liang’s transactions, Zhao found nothing suspicious. He was like a retail investor on a larger scale—nothing worth investigating.

The only thing notable was Lu Liang’s exceptional intuition, but that wasn’t evidence of wrongdoing.

“Should we send the investigation report to the Shenzhen Stock Exchange?” another investigator asked.

“Yes, go ahead. This issue has garnered a lot of attention; let’s close the case as soon as possible,” Zhao said.

The Teli A incident had blown up for several reasons.

First, it occurred during a market crash, leaving retail investors frustrated and desperate for an outlet for their anger.

Second, it involved a classic three-way scheme by speculative funds, institutions, and shareholders, which trapped tens of thousands of investors, raking in 480 million yuan.

Lastly, Lu Liang, a rising figure in public discourse, was implicated as a suspect.

These combined factors turned a moderately significant case into a national spectacle. Under immense public pressure, the authorities expedited their investigation to provide an answer to the public.

By Friday, August 4th, the third day of Teli A’s suspension, the case had been investigated, resolved, and concluded.

Authorities found that Zhongxin Fuying and Wu Junle had concentrated their trades on Teli A, executing 38 transactions on the same stock in one day, 389 internal transactions among controlled accounts, and seven identical trades of the same quantity at the same price.

Li Jianlin (Zhongxin Fuying’s controller) and Wu Junle admitted to collaborating, with witnesses corroborating their joint manipulation of Teli A stocks.

The final decision was as follows:

• Zhongxin Fuying’s illegal gains of 285 million yuan were confiscated, and the company was fined 427.5 million yuan.
• Li Jianlin received a warning and a fine of 600,000 yuan.
• Wu Junle’s illegal gains of 195 million yuan were confiscated, and he was fined 292.5 million yuan.

A fine equal to 1.5 times the illegal gains was a severe punishment, and the CSRC believed the public would be satisfied.

However, as soon as the announcement was made, the internet exploded with a single question: “What about Lu Liang? Why isn’t his name listed?”

The public had overlooked another individual—Teli Group’s shareholder who had colluded with Li Jianlin and Wu Junle. Yet, Lu Liang’s fame made him the most conspicuous figure.

Many people unaware of the case only started paying attention because of Lu Liang. Retail investors who had suffered losses didn’t care about the fines; they just wanted to see more people held accountable—especially Lu Liang.

This led to a wave of conspiracy theories online. Some speculated that Lu Liang had powerful connections or was a “white glove” for influential figures, making him untouchable.

Despite the CSRC’s public clarification that Lu Liang was thoroughly investigated and found innocent, the truth was drowned out by the noise.

That afternoon, Lu Liang received a call from Zhao Jisheng, who chuckled wryly, “Mr. Lu, could you help clarify things publicly?”

“No problem at all. But I’m a bit busy right now. I’ll do it tonight,” Lu Liang replied casually.

Zhao hesitated but eventually sighed, “Alright, take your time. Just try to address it soon.”

“Sure, sure, sure,” Lu Liang said, barely paying attention.

He was playing a game, where a high-cost fusion attempt suddenly turned into a worthless turtle, nearly prompting him to smash his computer.

“You call this busy?” Wang Xiaocong asked skeptically.

“Is gaming not a legitimate form of being busy?” Lu Liang retorted.

As the internet raged with its “nationwide manhunt” drama, Lu Liang knew the best move was to wait and make his appearance as the triumphant figure at the last moment.

Old Meng had it right: the longer you hold out, the bigger the impact. A wave like this, if paid for as a marketing campaign, would cost at least 100 million yuan.

Wang Xiaocong suddenly had an idea. “Why don’t you host a live stream on PandaTV tonight?”

Lu Liang froze. “Are you serious?”

“Why not? It’s a win-win. You gain fame, and Panda gains profits,” Wang said, getting more excited. With Lu Liang hosting, PandaTV could attract over 500,000 new users.

Lu Liang stared at Wang Xiaocong, his expression as if he were looking at an idiot. With a sigh, he said, “Looks like you’re actually serious about this.”

He began to reconsider whether it was worth reinvesting in PandaTV. With Wang Xiaocong’s emotional intelligence and reasoning skills, adding another three million yuan might just be like throwing money into a bottomless pit.

“D*** it! Don’t look at me like that,” Wang Xiaocong snapped, visibly annoyed. Though he felt like Lu Liang was treating him like a fool, he had no evidence to prove it.

Lu Liang sighed again. “Xiao Wang, if I’m the one benefiting from this situation, then who’s losing?”

As Wang Xiaocong tried to figure it out, Lu Liang answered for him, “It’s public credibility! And you want to monetize public credibility?”

Lu Liang explained patiently. While he could use this incident to build his reputation, he absolutely could not exploit it for profit. It was akin to the difference between taking money for greed and taking up arms in rebellion—completely different in nature.

After carefully mulling it over, Wang Xiaocong began to see the point.

Suddenly, his expression darkened as he stared at Lu Liang. “Wait, what did you just call me?”

“Oh, right! I think I have an appointment. Gotta go!”

Dodging the topic, Lu Liang laughed it off and quickened his pace. He could feel the resentful gaze boring into his back, prompting him to move even faster.

Wang Xiaocong’s face turned black with frustration, and he muttered a string of curses. “Calling me Xiao Wang now, huh? What’s next, treating me like a nobody?”

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