Chapter 1 The Birth of a Divine Tycoon

“We’ve never met… you might not have even heard my name before…”

“Whether it’s to make amends… or to repent… before I die, I want to leave all my assets to you…”

“After all, you are my only family left in this world…”

“I hope you can live freely and happily… don’t be like me… chase your own dreams!”

Zhuang Chen stared expressionlessly at the frail old man on the screen, never imagining that someone he’d never met before would leave him such a vast inheritance.

When the video ended, he found himself face-to-face with an elegant elder: silver hair, black tailcoat, refined cane, a gentle yet reserved smile—he looked every bit the medieval aristocrat, unforgettable at a glance.

The old gentleman looked calmly at Zhuang Chen, a glint of appreciation in his eyes. Rising slowly, he explained in fluent Chinese, “Mr. Zhuang, my name is Davis. I am the manager of the Wade Trust Foundation. I am here at the behest of your uncle to handle his estate.”

Zhuang Chen waved his hand, glancing around the room—no hidden cameras, so it wasn’t some kind of prank show. He stood as well, resigned. “As someone who grew up in an orphanage, I’ve never heard of having an uncle, let alone one who was…”

“A billionaire, you mean?” Davis allowed himself a slight smile and clapped his hands. The door opened, and five or six men in black entered, arms laden with documents, which they quickly spread out before Zhuang Chen.

“To be precise, the assets you inherit amount to 9.6 billion dollars, including one percent of Coca-Cola shares…”

“Eight-tenths of a percent in Microsoft…”

“Three-tenths of a percent of original shares in Apple…”

“Three-tenths of a percent in Mobil Oil…”

With each introduction, Davis laid out a new file before Zhuang Chen—hundreds of pages, in both Chinese and English, making his head spin.

Davis moved to Zhuang Chen’s side, produced a limited-edition fountain pen, twisted off the cap, and smiled. “I hope that as you sign these documents, your mood will only improve!”

Taking a deep breath, Zhuang Chen glanced at the notary and the camera in the corner, then accepted the pen and began signing under the lawyer’s guidance.

“Please sign here… and press your fingerprint…”

“Very good… please look at the camera… yes… state clearly that you understand all contract terms…”

“Is Mr. Zhuang Chen fully aware and making every decision in a safe environment?”

“Thank you for your cooperation… there are twelve more to go…”

For more than three hours, Zhuang Chen moved like a puppet, signing and stamping dozens of documents—each share transfer required at least a dozen signatures and prints, all recorded on video, the notary’s questions and explanations never ceasing, until his mind was utterly blank.

Davis sat patiently throughout, not the least bit irritated, accompanying the entire process as a witness. At the end, he poured a glass of water and handed it to Zhuang Chen with a relaxed air. “Congratulations, you are finally free from suffering.”

Zhuang Chen watched the lawyers depart in haste, massaging his stiff face with all his might. Taking a sip, his voice was hoarse. “My hand hurts enough to prove I’m not dreaming.”

Davis burst out laughing, clapping Zhuang Chen on the shoulder. “Worthy heir to Mr. Zhuang—his old friend for many years, I must say, you’re quite impressive!”

He took out a black wallet, handed it to Zhuang Chen, and opened it to show him. “Your uncle was Wade Trust’s most loyal client, and a dear friend of mine. He always entrusted us with his affairs.”

“According to his wishes, all fixed assets were liquidated and invested as company shares, with annual dividends. As sole beneficiary, you are guaranteed a minimum fixed return of eight percent per year.”

“That’s over seven hundred million dollars annually.”

Zhuang Chen nodded numbly. He’d heard of trust funds—exclusive financial management for the ultra-wealthy, set up so that their heirs would never lack for anything. Never did he imagine the fabled windfall would fall on him.

Seven hundred million a year—in US dollars.

Converted, that’s more than four billion RMB.

And he didn’t have to do a thing.

That’s 11.5 million each day…

480,000 every hour…

7,990 per minute…

133 per second…

Zhuang Chen couldn’t help but burst out laughing. Sleeping with his eyes closed for a day now meant earning more than a white-collar worker did in half a lifetime!

Davis watched the young man calmly, waiting for the outburst to pass. Then he drew out a credit card and explained, “This is the Black Gold VIP Card from Guzzi Bank, exclusive to the British royal family’s financial management. It’s known as Europe’s best private bank card—no spending limit. If you’re in Europe, give it a try.”

“The Dubai First Royal Credit Card—Black Gold level, reserved for royalty, globally accepted. The design fits Middle Eastern tastes, with actual diamonds embedded—I find it a bit much, to be honest.”

“The one benefit is a team of lifestyle managers who work tirelessly around the clock to fulfill any request. Of course, they can’t compare to our own Wade team, but if you’re in the Middle East, it’s better than nothing.”

“The Morgan Bank Palladium Card—reputedly irreplaceable, your name is laser-etched onto the metal. It’s a bit heavy, but excellent in North America.”

“And an American Express Centurion Card. Once, a collector used it to buy Modigliani’s ‘Reclining Nude’ for 170 million dollars—paid by swiping this card.”

Davis joked, “With the membership points from that purchase, he’ll never need to spend another cent for the rest of his life; he could take his whole family on first-class trips around the world for free.”

“The last four are Diamond Cards from China’s Big Four banks—unlimited spending and cash withdrawal. Since you’re based here, these are the most convenient, and they work in Hong Kong and Taiwan too.”

“The PIN for each is your birthday. You can change them at will. If you need anything else, just let us know and we’ll handle it immediately.”

Zhuang Chen took the wallet, eyeing the array of black and diamond cards—each a symbol of status and power. What had once been an unattainable dream was now within his grasp.

Sensing Zhuang Chen’s emotions, Davis said quietly, “Rest assured, everything that happened today is strictly confidential. Once you leave here, no one will know about your wealth. How you live from now on is entirely up to you.”

“If you’re dissatisfied with your nationality, I can arrange immigration to any country in the world…”

Zhuang Chen shook his head gently. “Though I grew up in an orphanage, I survived thanks to the help of many people. One must never forget their roots.”

Davis nodded, drew a card from his pocket, and handed it over formally. “This is the private phone number every Wade VIP receives. Wherever you are, whatever you need, just call and we’ll handle everything.”

He offered it with both hands, solemnly. “Please believe me—memorize this number well. It’s very important!”

Zhuang Chen took the card, committing the number to memory before placing it in his inner pocket. His instincts told him Davis wasn’t exaggerating; this card might well be more valuable than all the black cards combined.

Davis rose, straightened his tie, and said with elegance, “From this moment on, you have the power to choose your life anew. Money can’t solve every problem, but we must admit—it does give people more options, doesn’t it?”