Everyone Hates My Frail Body.

Chapter 39: Frail Body

Chapter 39: Frail Body

In the blink of an eye, the third summer had arrived, casting its warm glow over Trinity College, part of Cambridge University. Once again, the college was a bustling hub, preparing to welcome a new wave of overseas exchange students, alongside the excitement of an international academic conference and a business forum. The historic architecture, with its grand stone facades and ivy-clad walls, resonated with the whispers of ambition and possibility.

“Do you think Adrian will go to Harvard this time?” one student murmured, glancing around as if afraid of being overheard.

“I don’t think he will. He’s refused twice already. It seems he doesn’t like Harvard,” came the hushed reply, tinged with curiosity.

“Speak softly so no one can hear you,” another warned, aware of the prying ears around them.

“It’s understandable for him to refuse. He started leading his own project team in his freshman year and was invited to work as a trader at Hongyu Capital in his sophomore year. We’re still following our mentors on projects, while he’s already making waves in the primary market. Honestly, it doesn’t matter if he doesn’t go; he’s more than capable on his own.”

“And now he’s planning to join Red Feather Capital. He’s reached the pinnacle of his career right after graduation. That’s simply amazing,” another added, shaking his head in disbelief.

“I heard there’s an exceptional exchange student coming to Harvard this time.”

“What’s the story?”

“He’s Chinese. He inherited his family’s venture capital firm, Qie Huai Capital. In just three years, he’s transformed it into one of the most promising firms in the world this year—a true dark horse on the top list.”

“A Chinese person again? Damn it, how are the Chinese so good at making money?!” one student exclaimed, a mix of admiration and frustration in his voice.

“Seriously! Just look at Adrian from our college. He’s only a junior but boasts an impressive resume. Those venture capital firms are snatching up sophomores left and right.”

“You know what? If a big shot from Harvard comes here, he won’t really come to snatch my job, right?”

“It’s possible.”

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In the Library

“Adrian, you rejected that old man again? Do you really hate Harvard that much?”

Trinity College, renowned for its academic rigor and historical prestige, had an atmosphere of solemnity, its impressive architecture a testament to centuries of scholarly pursuit.

At a secluded desk in the library, two young men in casual sweatshirts were engrossed in conversation. One of them, his head wrapped in a piece of cloth, was known as the richest man in the world. The other, Song Qie, sat with a straw between his lips, his gaze fixated on the glowing computer screen, a complex expression etched on his face as if wrestling with a heavy burden.

Song Qie’s delicate features and gentle demeanor belied the handsome heroism evident in his sharp eyes and strong brows. The childish act of biting the straw contrasted sharply with the reality that he was conducting a transaction worth up to 300 million.

With a swift tap on the keyboard, the transaction was completed—a seamless flow of wealth that only a few would recognize.

Those familiar with him understood that behind his harmless appearance lay a fierce project hunter—a young trader who would go to great lengths to secure lucrative opportunities. While most graduates were fortunate to handle a few projects, Song Qie had amassed over twenty even before graduation, each one a high-stakes endeavor worth tens or hundreds of billions.