Chapter Fifty-Five: Inside Information

“All right, Tao, I’ll still need to use your name for this next step. I’ve set my sights on a shop in the South Gate Street clothing market—this money is just enough for the down payment,” Zhang Ye said excitedly, his eyes shining.

He hadn’t expected that they’d make so much profit. With this capital, if they keep reinvesting, their earnings will only multiply.

“Wait a minute, Ye. Didn’t you say you wanted to buy a computer and open an internet café? How did you suddenly switch to this clothing market idea?” Zhao Haidong quickly interjected, struggling to keep up with Zhang Ye’s rapid train of thought.

“That’s right, we had already decided on the plan. I was supposed to head to Guangyang City tomorrow. What’s this new scheme you’re cooking up?” Liu Wentao was equally puzzled. They had discussed everything in detail before, painting grand pictures of the future until they were all fired up. The sudden change left them feeling let down, the excitement draining away.

It was partly Zhang Ye’s fault for hyping it up at first, getting everyone’s passion burning.

Zhang Ye scratched his head, then explained, “We’ll definitely open the internet café, but there’s no rush. This business opportunity won’t be noticed by others for at least half a year. In the meantime, we can invest in the clothing market. In the short term, we’ll be able to grow our funds significantly.” He then shared his thoughts with Liu Wentao and Zhao Haidong.

“Are you sure the shop rents will go up?” Liu Wentao asked doubtfully. The idea sounded good, but what if the shops didn’t attract tenants? After all, they’d only just made some money—losing it all would be a bitter pill to swallow.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got insider information. In a few days, the authorities are going to announce the relocation of the Triangle Gate street due to the pig farm’s stench. They plan to demolish that area and move all the shops to South Gate, including many clothing vendors. By then, selling the shop won’t be a problem,” Zhang Ye said confidently.

A few years ago, a pig farm had been built near Triangle Gate. At first it wasn’t much of an issue, but as the farm grew, the nauseating smell became unbearable, drifting far and wide. Most residents avoided the area; after all, who wants to shop while breathing in that stench? People had complained to the government, but the farm was a government-supported venture and highly profitable, so nothing was done. Luckily, the area was close to the outskirts, so it hadn’t escalated into a major dispute.

“If that’s the case, it might really work,” Liu Wentao said, tempted by the idea. Insider information like this wasn’t easy to come by, and his view of Zhang Ye shifted once again.

Of course, Zhang Ye didn’t actually have any real insider sources. He could have asked Yuan Yuqing, but he didn’t want to trouble her. All his knowledge came from memories of his previous life—he remembered clearly that as soon as the announcement was made, the South Gate shops were snatched up in a single day.

“All right, let’s do it, then. It’s only a month or two. We can wait,” Zhao Haidong agreed, nodding. He had been following Zhang Ye’s lead from the start, and never expected to make so much money. It all felt a bit unreal, and he didn’t overthink it.

But Zhang Ye wouldn’t let his friends take a loss, nor would he let himself suffer. He remembered this event vividly—it had been the talk of all Li Hua County—and he was certain he was right.

Soon, the sun set, and the sky blazed with red clouds, bathing the entire street in a fiery glow.

At five o’clock, Zhang Ye kept his word; he called it a day, and they all had dinner together. He handed out three hundred yuan bonuses to Liu Guangxiang and the others, and each person carried home about a hundred pounds of watermelon.

Returning home with his load, Zhang Ye was greeted with a barrage of questions from his parents. He explained that he had helped a friend sell watermelons over the past few days, made some money, and his generous friend had given him the remaining melons.

Liu Meiju knew Liu Wentao had recently started selling watermelons and heard he’d made a profit. Since Zhang Ye and Wentao had been friends since childhood, it made sense he would help out. What surprised her was the amount—so many watermelons, plus three hundred yuan in wages. She couldn’t help but marvel at Liu Wentao’s success.

Of course, these were all fabricated stories. Sometimes, telling one lie meant weaving countless more to cover it up—a tiring but necessary task.

As for the money, Liu Meiju wouldn’t let Zhang Ye spend it freely. She confiscated all three hundred yuan, handed him ten, and told him to spend it sparingly before happily heading off to wash vegetables.

Now a minor nouveau riche, Zhang Ye didn’t care much for the ten yuan. He accepted it without protest and returned to his room.

Wang Mengzi had already left for her trip that morning. She hadn’t asked Zhang Ye to see her off, but he still went, watching her from afar, making sure not to be seen.

Lying in bed, Zhang Ye pondered for a while, then sat down at his desk to write. He didn’t want sadness to affect him. When Wang Mengzi returned, he wanted her to see a confident, composed version of himself.

What he looked forward to most was the surprise, the shock, and the delighted, adorable expression on her face when he handed her his finished novel.

The more he wrote, the more inspired he felt. The story, set in an immortal fantasy world, revolved around an aunt and her nephew—the characters’ backgrounds almost mirroring their real relationship. He didn’t expect the novel to be published or earn money; it was simply for her.

He poured his heart into every word, carefully researching anything he didn’t know, either directly or indirectly, and faithfully recording every detail.

The immortal arts and unique techniques were a highlight, reminiscent of the classic fantasy novel “The Immortal Executioner” from the future, with similarly turbulent trials and tribulations. But in Zhang Ye’s story, the ending was destined to be happy.

He wrote through the night, stretching as he finally noticed it was past two or three in the morning. He hurried to bed, snatching a couple hours of sleep before getting up to exercise.

With his workout routine intensified, Zhang Ye’s daily training sessions now lasted about an hour. The results were remarkable: his entire body was toned and defined, the muscles full but not bulky, the lines so striking they would put a model to shame. The Five Animals Frolics was no ordinary exercise; it worked every muscle, even those hard to target, enhancing his physique in ways most routines couldn’t.