Wang Zhuo, as was his custom, cherry-picked what he copied, keeping his scores precisely in the middle tier of the top echelon—not quite top three, but certainly not slipping past the top five.

Gauging this exact balance wasn't always easy, but he didn't much care if he was slightly off; close enough was good enough.

This semester marked the end of the bulk of the cultural courses. Rumor had it that starting next term, they would frequently be keeping company with earthworms, rabbits, and chunks of cadavers...

The women connected to Wang Zhuo could only throw up their hands in resignation. Gan Lin was the first to lay down the law: the hands that had been touching those things were strictly forbidden from touching her that same day.

Wang Zhuo accepted this with understanding and nonchalance, thinking to himself that if she refused, fine, there were others who wouldn't mind.

Indeed, entering the medical profession demanded certain sacrifices. Sometimes it meant risking one's life against emerging contagions like SARS or swine flu. Sometimes it meant sacrificing intimate joys, like being rejected by one's spouse for the marital bed. And sometimes it meant altering one's perception—seeing a perfectly healthy, beautiful person and suddenly visualizing what they looked like dissected.

The youthful ambition of becoming a forensic pathologist during his Gaokao years had long since evaporated. This was thanks to a certain big-mouthed professor who, during a lecture, recounted an anecdote about an autopsy. When he vividly used descriptors like edema, putrefaction, and foul stench, even the hard-nerved Wang Zhuo felt a distinct wave of nausea, prompting several female students to cover their mouths and flee the lecture hall entirely.

From that moment on, Wang Zhuo decided he would rather die than ever take up that line of work.

On a scorching afternoon, while Wang Zhuo was savoring iced sweet melon gifted by Zheng Peng under the cool air conditioning of his dorm room, the Head of Department, Wang Taiping, called.

“Wang Zhuo, if you’re on campus, swing by my office when you have a moment?”

“Heh heh, it’s nothing major, just wanted a chat. Principal Ma is here too, so hurry over; we’re waiting for you.”

Zheng Peng was genuinely generous. The sweet melon weighed over fifteen pounds. After washing and chilling it thoroughly in the refrigerator, he delivered it to Wang Zhuo. Wang Zhuo casually picked out six melons, placed them in a clean, reusable bag, and headed to the Head of Department’s office.

Ma Dehai and Wang Taiping were old acquaintances of Wang Zhuo. It was these two who had introduced Qin Jingzhong to Wang Zhuo when he first enrolled last year. Since then, their relationship with Wang Zhuo had become quite close, and they usually looked out for him.

Naturally, Wang Zhuo always reciprocated. He had gifted them some jade trinkets—items that, to him, were simply conventional tokens of courtesy, but when calculated at current market value, amounted to tens of thousands yuan each. As a result, they regarded Wang Zhuo with even greater esteem.

Because of this existing rapport, Wang Zhuo felt no need to be formal. He simply carried the bag of melons into the office, spread them out on the desk, and invited the two university leaders to quench their thirst and escape the heat.

With no one else present, Ma Dehai and Wang Taiping didn't stand on ceremony. They each took a melon and began crunching into them noisily.

“Good melon, so sweet.”

“Really excellent. This isn’t the stuff sold at the campus supermarket, is it?”

Wang Zhuo smiled and replied, “A classmate gave them to me. He said they were air-freighted from Dou Nai Province. I don’t know where he bought them.”

Wang Taiping nodded repeatedly. “Wang Zhuo, you have good connections.”

After a brief exchange of pleasantries, Ma Dehai brought up the main topic: “Wang Zhuo, the stock of Shengshi Wangchao [Magnificent Dynasty] has been fluctuating wildly recently. Taiping and I are both holding half positions, and we called you here to ask for your advice.”

“Yes, and this news—there is too little valuable information, and it’s all so vague. We can’t figure it out,” Wang Taiping said, pushing over a newspaper and pointing to a small, bank-card-sized news snippet.

So that was the reason. Wang Zhuo instantly understood: these two wanted to profit from Shengshi Wangchao’s movements and were here to humbly seek inside information.

The snippet reported that the listed company, Shengshi Wangchao Group, had preliminarily discovered a copper deposit at the junction of the three southwestern provinces. The reserve size and ore quality required further investigation, and the company had begun preparations for further exploration and subsequent development.

Information related to this news had been tightly sealed by Shengshi Wangchao. To date, they had neither convened a shareholder meeting for public disclosure, accepted formal media interviews, nor planned a press conference. Consequently, many investors who wanted to buy Shengshi Wangchao stock were hesitant.

Currently, many retail investors, even institutions and major players, suspected this was merely another round of stock manipulation by Shengshi Wangchao. Earlier, under discernible operations, the stock price had been suppressed to an all-time low, bearing clear signs of deliberate maneuvering. Although the Securities Regulatory Commission’s intervention failed to uncover anything concrete, people were naturally wary—this was a demon stock that played by its own rules.

With just this small piece of news, who could tell if this was the start of a new hype cycle or just another shakeout before a plunge? Ever since Shengshi Wangchao acquired the shell company T Zhongzheng, the stock had been volatile, scaring off many veteran fund managers.

This was why Ma Dehai and Wang Taiping had sought out Wang Zhuo: they needed to know whether they should go all-in, continue to observe, or sell off and wait for another bottom.

Wang Zhuo certainly wasn't going to reveal the specific details of the company’s plans, nor did they expect him to. They only needed a word or two from him for reference.

“Well about that—” Wang Zhuo drew out the word, smiling, “I think Shengshi Wangchao’s stock price won’t be this low again. If your finances allow, now is a suitable time to start building a position.”

It’s going up? Ma Dehai and Wang Taiping exchanged glances, both beaming. Compared to selling out and waiting for a new low, anticipating a rise meant making money. Did this mean it was time to buy in full force?

“If you are doing short-term trading, you should be able to profit from this current wave. However, I suggest holding long-term starting now.” Having said that, Wang Zhuo nodded, and then offered no further comment.

Wang Zhuo left. After seeing him out, Ma Dehai and Wang Taiping immediately closed the door to analyze the situation. On the surface, Wang Zhuo hadn’t revealed much, but as educators, they were semi-literary workers, and these words were enough for them to decipher a great deal.

First, Wang Zhuo mentioned “if your finances allow.” They interpreted this not as "be mindful of your budget," but rather, "put everything you dare on the line." Then came "appropriate position building"—they took the word appropriate to mean immediately.

Later, Wang Zhuo’s advice to hold long-term was interpreted as confirmation: the copper mine was real, and the reserves were substantial enough to warrant such a long-term outlook.

“Why did he say so much?” Wang Taiping pondered. “Logically, he only needed to tell us it was time to build a position. Didn’t he reveal a bit too much afterwards?”

“You’re right,” Ma Dehai admitted, snapping out of his excitement. “As a high-level executive of a listed company, he should know better than us what information to keep confidential and what can be disclosed. He shouldn't make such a basic error.”

“That means one thing,” Wang Taiping suddenly slapped the desk. “This is information that is about to be made public, news everyone will know very soon!”

“I see!” Ma Dehai quickly glanced at his watch. “It’s almost two o’clock, only an hour until closing. Quick, place the orders!”

With that, he snatched two melons and hurried out the door.

Wang Taiping didn't even care that his melons had been taken. He dragged his laptop to the front of the desk, plugged in his security key, and started operating the computer.

At the very same moment, the stock-building work being done by the teams of Fei Long, Sun Donghao, Cheng Gang, and the veteran Dao Zi Ding Ren, among others, was nearing completion.

As for friends in cooperation with Wang Zhuo, like Cai Yuantu and Guo Jiandeng, their significant capital allowed them to skip these preliminary hassles. When Shengshi Wangchao acquired the shell company, they had already participated in a private placement, securing their spot on this gold-mining express train early on.

That afternoon, just before the market suspension, Ma Dehai and Wang Taiping successfully secured their full positions as desired. Then, shortly after the market closed, a news announcement appeared online: Shengshi Wangchao would temporarily suspend trading the following morning to hold a press conference and disclose significant information.

Ma Dehai immediately grabbed his phone and called Wang Taiping. After confirming with each other, they both arrived at the same conclusion: whatever Shengshi Wangchao was about to announce would undoubtedly be overwhelmingly positive news regarding the copper mine. The stock was going to soar.

They both silently thought that they were fortunate to have impulsively asked Wang Zhuo for advice... They figured they’d be laughing themselves awake that night.

Sure enough, the next morning, Shengshi Wangchao released a cascade of details concerning the copper mine. The news media and the stock market exploded simultaneously; all major news websites replaced their front-page headlines with this emergency bulletin.

At the press conference, they didn't just confirm the immense proven reserves; they provided a comparative analysis against copper reserves worldwide. Furthermore, they elaborated on the profound significance and long-term impact of this major discovery from scientific, political, and military perspectives.

Those present at the conference realized that Shengshi Wangchao hadn't just staged a turnaround; it was poised to rocket past blue-chip performers and position itself as a dominant industry leader.

When the market opened, related mining stocks experienced massive turbulence. Several copper mining stocks plummeted instantly, hitting the daily lower limit, unlikely to bounce back before the evening close.

At this moment, shareholders, directors, and employees of Shengshi Wangchao were celebrating wildly. Meanwhile, Wang Zhuo, acting as if nothing had happened, was leisurely fishing with the elderly Qin Jingzhong at a resort pond.

“Qin Lao, Wang Zhuo!” A clear voice called from a distance. It was Guan Yingying, who had accompanied Wang Zhuo for this leisure trip. “Hurry back for lunch!”