Can't Possibly Fall for My Wife Again After Rebirth, Right? - Chapter 33

The moment the word “stocks” left Yao Jin’s mouth, Xu Yingran felt a sudden surge of déjà vu, as if she had been transported ten years into the future.

In her past life, she remembered Yao Jin constantly hunched over her phone and laptop, tracking the red and green fluctuations of the market. Initially, Xu Yingran didn’t understand a thing, but over time, she had picked up bits and pieces through Yao Jin’s influence.

She had always assumed Yao Jin’s interest in investing began after she entered the workforce. She never expected that she had already started dabbling in it as a high school senior.

“Why are you looking at that out of the blue?” Xu Yingran asked instinctively.

Yao Jin’s relaxed expression suddenly darkened. After a long silence, she looked up and said, “Is it so strange that I’m doing this?”

Actually, it wasn’t strange at all.

Xu Yingran knew Yao Jin was a “rich second generation.” Her family was incredibly wealthy; her parents had made their fortune in real estate during the early years. At its peak, the company was worth tens of billions. Later, due to a messy divorce battle between her parents, the company’s value plummeted to a few hundred million as the assets were essentially stripped bare.

Right now, it seemed, was exactly when the Yao family’s divorce proceedings were beginning.

“It’s not strange, I’m just curious,” Xu Yingran said, choosing her words carefully. She looked at Yao Jin tentatively. “Can I see?”

Yao Jin glanced at her. “Do you even understand them?” Despite the jab, she handed her phone over.

Xu Yingran took the phone and realized that Yao Jin’s “playing the stocks” consisted of having someone send her market trend charts, which she then used to make buy and sell decisions based on her own intuition.

Looking at the fragmented gains in Yao Jin’s account, Xu Yingran saw that the vast majority were in the green. A literal sea of green—the color of loss in the Chinese market—making Yao Jin look like the ultimate “leek” waiting to be harvested.

“Wait, I mean…” Xu Yingran studied it for a while before scratching her head. “You’ve lost over a hundred thousand yuan this month alone. How exactly are you picking these?”

Yao Jin looked at her indifferently. “Everything I buy drops. What can I do?”

Xu Yingran remained silent.

“My dad said this money is for me to practice with,” Yao Jin added. “To cultivate an ‘eye for catching opportunities.'”

Though Yao Jin didn’t know what that meant, she knew that whatever she bought went down, and if something happened to be in the red (gaining), the moment she bought more, it turned green. Over time, she had become despondent, figuring she wasn’t cut out for business and should just wait to inherit what was left and live a quiet life.

Seeing through Yao Jin’s thoughts, Xu Yingran let out a long sigh. She scrolled through several familiar company names, remembering how they would explode in value over the next few years. Looking at their current low prices, a plan formed.

“A-Jin,” Xu Yingran said, looking up. “Let’s discuss something.”

Yao Jin gave a faint nod, signaling her to continue.

“I know a few stocks that will rise significantly in the future. Do you want to hear my suggestions?”

Yao Jin stared at her. “Do you know how many people have said those exact words to me?”

Xu Yingran made a pained face. “A-Jin, you know I don’t mean it like that.”

“Fine.” Yao Jin propped her head on her hand, looking amused. “Suppose I listen to you and make money. How do you want to split the profit?”

“You haven’t even heard the picks yet. How do you know we’ll make money?”

“If we weren’t going to make money, why would you waste your breath?”

“…Fair point.”

Leaning back against the headboard, Xu Yingran introduced the future market trends to Yao Jin. she selected a few stocks that were just beginning to show signs of life. “These have already started to climb. In the coming days, they will increase several times over. If you enter now, you can’t go wrong.”

Yao Jin listened intently. When Xu Yingran finished, she asked, “If what you say is true, my money could at least triple.”

More than triple, Xu Yingran thought. If they were lucky, adding a zero to the end wouldn’t be an exaggeration. She knew this was the incubation period for internet consumerism and short-video traffic. The growth would be exponential.

“If you’re willing to listen to me, it will definitely double,” Xu Yingran said with absolute certainty.

“Okay.” Yao Jin tapped her phone with a long finger. “From now on, you’re my consultant. If I make money, there will definitely be a share for you.”

“Why do you trust me so easily?” Xu Yingran asked curiously. “Aren’t you afraid I’m scamming you?”

Yao Jin laughed. “I lose money on everything I buy anyway, so what could you possibly scam me out of? Besides, you’re just giving advice. The money stays in my hands.”

Xu Yingran knew Yao Jin was a guarded girl; back when they weren’t close, Yao Jin wouldn’t even acknowledge her. This agreement wasn’t just about business—it was a sign of unconditional trust.

“Actually, I don’t need a cut of the profits,” Xu Yingran said, feeling a bit sheepish. “I just want to save up tuition for Fu Qiao. Her broadcasting classes cost at least ten thousand yuan. She doesn’t want to tell her parents, so I’ll pay for it.”

As an “adult” in a teenager’s body, earning tuition for her wife was something she felt she should be able to handle.

Yao Jin arched an eyebrow. “So after all that, this is all for Fu Qiao?”

Xu Yingran blinked. “Who else did you think it was for?”

Yao Jin didn’t answer. She leaned back and said, “Even if you want to pay her tuition, it will take a month or two to see profits. Have you thought about what she’ll do in the meantime?”

Xu Yingran pondered. Though she was an adult mentally, she was only eighteen physically, had no startup capital, and was a high school senior. Where could she get the money right now? Even if she emptied her savings from years of New Year’s red envelopes, it would only be a few thousand—hardly enough for a month.

Seeing her struggle, Yao Jin said, “Ten thousand yuan is nothing to me. I’ll consider it a loan to you.”

“Are you sure?”

“But you have to pay me back with interest every month,” Yao Jin said leisurely. “For now, start ‘paying’ by helping me make money.”

They struck a deal: Xu Yingran would pick the stocks, Yao Jin would pay her a consultant fee based on market rates from the profits, and Yao Jin would advance the tuition money to Xu Yingran immediately.

The money was sorted. But whether Fu Qiao would agree to go back to class… that was Xu Yingran’s job.

After their discussion, Fu Qiao arrived with three lunchboxes. Seeing the two of them whispering together, she felt a bit puzzled but didn’t ask.

The news that Xu Yingran had been struck by a ball and sent to the infirmary had spread through the class. Although she was only dizzy for a minute, the homeroom teacher, Li Yuwen, insisted she stay and rest for the afternoon. While Fu Qiao wanted to stay, Li Yuwen didn’t want her to miss her senior year studies.

Xu Yingran spent the afternoon catching up on the sleep she’d been lacking. When she finally opened her eyes, the sunset was streaming through the window. Orange light spilled across the white sheets, and the school radio was playing music, signaling the end of the day.

Just as she was about to get up, she heard Fu Qiao’s voice.

“Teacher, is Xu Yingran okay after this afternoon?”

Behind the white curtain, Xu Yingran heard Fu Qiao speaking to the doctor.

“She’s fine. She slept most of the afternoon; she’s probably still asleep,” the doctor said. “You can go in and check. If she’s okay, you can head home.”

“Thank you, Teacher.”

Hearing the footsteps, Xu Yingran quickly closed her eyes and pretended to be asleep. Fu Qiao pulled the curtain aside gently. The orange light cast a soft glow over Xu Yingran, making her thick lashes look like delicate fans.

Fu Qiao leaned over, wondering if she should wake her, when the “sleeping” girl suddenly snapped her eyes open.

Their eyes met, and Fu Qiao let out a small gasp of surprise. As she tried to pull back, Xu Yingran’s hand shot out and grabbed her.

With a soft creak, the infirmary bed swayed. Fu Qiao found herself propped up with one hand by Xu Yingran’s pillow, while the other was held firmly by the girl on the bed.

The “accident” had happened in less than a second. Now that she had regained her senses, Fu Qiao realized she was almost entirely pinned over Xu Yingran.

Both their heartbeats quickened. Fu Qiao’s face flushed involuntarily, and Xu Yingran noticed even the tips of her ears were bright red.

“What happened?” the school doctor called out from the outer room, not bothering to get up. The curtain blocked the view.

“Nothing!” Xu Yingran called back, still gripping Fu Qiao’s hand. “I just bumped into a chair.”

“Oh,” the doctor grunted, packing up her things. “I’m heading out. You two pack up and head home when you’re ready.”

“Okay, Teacher.”

As the doctor’s footsteps faded into the distance, Xu Yingran turned her head to look at the blushing Fu Qiao. “The teacher is gone,” she whispered.

Fu Qiao’s cheeks were burning, and her heart was racing. The position was incredibly awkward. She tugged at her wrist. “Y-you… let go…”

Instead of letting go, Xu Yingran placed her other hand on Fu Qiao’s waist, pulling her even closer.

Fu Qiao’s face turned even redder. She didn’t dare look into Xu Yingran’s eyes, and the hand propping her up began to tremble slightly. She didn’t understand what Xu Yingran was doing. The atmosphere was so thick with tension that it felt as if they were about to kiss.

“Let me go,” Fu Qiao whispered, her voice tinged with a mix of fatigue and complaint. “My arm is getting sore. Let me up.