Genuine market hype is a long-term endeavor, not the kind of fleeting speculation where retail investors cash out after one daily limit-up.

Judging purely by intrinsic value, the pair of jade watermelons from Shengshi Dynasty could be considered exquisite pieces, but not necessarily masterpieces; their market price would hover somewhere between the tens of millions and hundreds of millions. However, add the prestige of a "national treasure" label, followed by a massive media blitz and saturation exposure, and their valuation is set to multiply several times over, perhaps even ten times or more.

Temporarily handing over the subsequent promotional tasks to Qi Fei, Guan Yingying began aggressively expanding Shengshi Dynasty. Wang Zhuo's mission, however, was far more arduous: the burden of fundraising now weighed squarely on his shoulders.

In this day and age, money makes things happen, and Wang Zhuo, leveraging a connection through Xiao Wanjun, managed to secure a specialized capital operations team to work for him.

Following a dazzling series of financial maneuvers, Shengshi Dynasty was transformed into a promising startup company, albeit one temporarily operating in debt. After several rounds of negotiation, they finally struck a cooperative agreement with a struggling, nearly moribund listed company.

Mid-March in Jiangzhou, the grass was sprouting new shoots, and spring blossoms were in riotous bloom.

After his morning workout, Wang Zhuo purchased the latest Securities Times at a newsstand on campus. Without even opening it, he spotted the headline news he was looking for right on the front page.

“00032S, ST Zhongzheng, trading suspended starting today, formally entering the equity swap procedure.”

ST Zhongzheng was the listed company Shengshi Dynasty was set to absorb. This was a textbook example of a small fish swallowing a big fish in capital operations: Shengshi Dynasty would exchange its high-quality assets for a premium on Zhongzheng Group’s shares until it achieved controlling interest. Subsequently, the inferior assets would be spun off, achieving the ultimate goal of a backdoor listing.

Shengshi Dynasty, less than six months old, was about to become a publicly traded entity.

Carrying his breakfast and the newspaper, Wang Zhuo bypassed his dormitory and headed straight to the parking lot to retrieve his car, driving directly home.

Moments later, several classmates, professors, and school administrators who had also acquired copies of the paper arrived at his dorm, only to find him gone.

At home, Cheng Gang, Fei Long, and Sun Donghao were celebrating like madmen. Thanks to the absolute inside information provided by Wang Zhuo, these three had managed to buy a significant amount of ST Zhongzheng shares right before the trading suspension; they were, quite literally, overnight millionaires.

Seeing Wang Zhuo open the door, Cheng Gang let out a strange yell in the living room: "Fei Long, Hao Zi, hurry out and welcome your God!"

At that moment, Wang Zhuo truly was their undisputed deity. Even the most cautious Cheng Gang had liquidated his parents' stock portfolio, which had been tied up for over a hundred thousand yuan, all to swap into ST Zhongzheng. Sun Donghao had sold the property his parents had set aside for his future marriage home. Fei Long, however, had been the most ruthless: he had quietly taken out mortgage loans against his family’s residence and storefront, pouring over two million yuan into the venture.

ST Zhongzheng’s stock price was currently just over two yuan. After Shengshi Dynasty’s backdoor listing, it was projected to hit several consecutive limit-ups, which alone would be enough for the three of them to cash out handsomely. If one factored in the secret maneuvers Wang Zhuo had yet to reveal to anyone, these three might genuinely become instant magnates.

After a boisterous celebration, Sun Donghao asked curiously, "Wang Zhuo, something as massive as the equity swap—why aren't you attending?"

"It was actually finalized two days ago; today is just going through the motions," Wang Zhuo chuckled. "Besides, if the boss had to handle every single detail personally, what would be the point of professional managers?"

The three were instantly filled with admiration; those words were utterly profound.

The trio, having struck gold, left to celebrate. Shortly after, Ding Ren and his entourage arrived.

Wang Zhuo had only shared the news about the backdoor listing with Fei Long and the other two, and even then, he was vague. Consequently, the small sum they had invested—a little over thirty thousand yuan combined—had barely made a ripple in the stock market.

But Ding Ren was different. Wang Zhuo knew that if he truly committed, the funds he could mobilize were easily in the tens of millions. Dumping such a large sum could potentially affect ST Zhongzheng’s tradable float, possibly alerting institutional investors or major players and creating unnecessary volatility.

Presumably understanding this, Ding Ren, upon entering, didn't complain about Wang Zhuo’s secrecy at all. Instead, he repeatedly praised Wang Zhuo’s sophistication in handling matters.

Yuan Da joked, "Wang Zhuo, it's been less than half a year, and our Manager Wang is about to become Chairman Wang?"

"It’s just a title," Wang Zhuo laughed heartily.

Ding Ren turned serious. "Wang Zhuo, let's be frank. This move is probably more than just going public, isn't it? Are there follow-up actions planned?"

"Uncle Daozi has keen eyes," Wang Zhuo said. He knew Ding Ren was mistaking his connections for Qin Xue, but he was happy to borrow that prestigious cloak for a while without offering clarification. He smiled, "I can't disclose the specifics, but I can give you a guarantee: before ST Zhongzheng is renamed, it will hit the daily trading limit at least five times. If you have any spare capital, you might as well jump in immediately when trading resumes tomorrow; you’re guaranteed to make a tidy profit."

Ding Ren was startled. Five consecutive limit-ups meant a return of sixty percent—wasn't that more profitable than high-interest loans?

But then he considered Wang Zhuo's backing: Qin Xue, who would soon be promoted to Secretary of the Jiangzhou Municipal Party Committee—a figure of national standing. Wang Zhuo was a close, long-standing friend of this powerful man's father; leaking a small projection about ST stock’s future was hardly fear-mongering.

Looking at Wang Zhuo’s calm and composed expression, Ding Ren understood that this was no longer the inexperienced youth from half a year ago who had come asking for help with his father's sentencing, backed by a small sum of money. He might still be able to sit across from him now and be called "Uncle Daozi," but in a few years, he might be the one looking up to Wang Zhuo.

...

That day, Shengshi Dynasty once again became the center of controversy. On one hand, the appraisal of its assets involved those jade watermelons, leading some to claim the valuation was severely inflated. On the other hand, the "snake swallowing a whale" momentum displayed by Shengshi Dynasty caused many to suspect that this was just another market manipulation scheme designed to create a rally before the operators cashed out.

But controversy aside, the Securities Regulatory Commission and relevant departments were not decorative fixtures. If they approved it, the matter was settled. As for what the retail investors thought of the issue—did it matter?

The Chinese stock market operates on the principle of favoring longs over shorts. Therefore, as long as ST Zhongzheng’s stock price was set to rise, it was a grand, universally welcomed spectacle. Until the peak was reached and a decline began, the voices of skepticism were destined to remain in the minority.

The next day, ST Zhongzheng resumed trading, and, as expected, hit its limit-up within ten minutes. Ding Ren called Wang Zhuo, his entire message contained in one sentence: he hadn't managed to buy a single share.

On the third trading day after resumption, Ding Ren finally seized an opportunity and held a full position in ST Zhongzheng. Just then, the latest news broke: Zhongzheng Group would suspend trading again to spin off twenty-three loss-making stores, clearing the path for Shengshi Dynasty's takeover.

Simultaneously, major media outlets began reporting that Shengshi Dynasty’s pair of jade watermelons were already en route to the Palace Museum for exhibition. Various insurance companies quickly stated that underwriting such a treasure carried too much risk, and currently, no domestic security company matched the required standard for safekeeping, rendering them unable to offer insurance.

In reality, countless other precious items domestically lacked adequate insurance, yet news reports on this subject were scarce. The media's sudden, high-profile coverage immediately led many uninformed viewers to assume these jade watermelons were uniquely exceptional and extraordinary.

That evening, Beijing Satellite TV’s evening news dedicated thirty seconds to this matter, also previewing follow-up reports in the near future, urging viewers to stay tuned.

Meanwhile, the related documentary was already in intensive production. Thanks to the thorough preparation by Wang Zhuo and his team, abundant visual materials ensured the production would be twice as effective with half the effort.

As the temperature warmed, Wang Zhuo could move about his room wearing only boxer shorts. Gan Lin, however, was more sensitive to the cold and still wore a loose knit sweater.

The two nestled on the sofa. One of Wang Zhuo's hands slipped inside the collar of her sweater, rubbing back and forth intermittently, while his other hand was not idle. Using a toothpick, he picked up a strawberry from the fruit plate, dipped it lightly in the milky white salad dressing, and fed it into her moist lips.

With the green tops removed, the bright red strawberries somewhat resembled a certain vital part of a man, and the milky white dressing, once thinned by moisture, bore a resemblance to the essence that creates life. As these two elements combined, slowly parting the beauty’s dewy lips, being teased by a mischievous tongue, sliding past teeth like polished shells, Wang Zhuo smiled silently.

"What are you laughing at?" Gan Lin asked, her speech slightly muffled around the strawberry, a small, distinct peak rising on her fair, rosy cheek.

Wang Zhuo chuckled, "I suddenly remembered a Japanese actress whose stage name was 'Strawberry Milk.' Whoever named her that was truly talented."

"Strawberry Milk?" Gan Lin pondered for a moment, then suddenly burst into laughter. "There's a pen name used by an online novelist that’s much funnier than that one..."

Wang Zhuo instantly thought of the serialized novel Gan Lin had been following lately and also laughed heartily; that author's pen name was the perfect complement to 'Strawberry Milk.'

His eyes flickered mischievously. "Baby, did you not eat enough tonight?"

Gan Lin blinked her bright, watery eyes, looking rather surprised. "I ate plenty, why the sudden question?"

"I just remembered there's one more dish I haven't let you taste yet," Wang Zhuo said, pulling her up to sit.

"What dish?" Gan Lin asked casually, then suddenly realized: "Red sausage and black moss?"

Wang Zhuo roared with laughter, pulling back the retreating Gan Lin and pressing her onto the sofa. In a few quick movements, he stripped her bare.

Under his rough handling, Gan Lin's body immediately went limp. After a few token struggles, she obediently lay back on the sofa, adopting a posture of complete surrender to his pleasure.

With her yielding body displayed before him, Wang Zhuo first enjoyed the sight to his heart's content. Then, with a sly grin, he pulled her up to sit, while he comfortably leaned back on the sofa.

Gan Lin was no longer in the dark about his intentions. Blushing, she hurried over to switch off the main light before returning to kneel before Wang Zhuo. She shyly took a bit of saliva onto her palm and began to work it between her…