The warmth of the campus café still lingered on Li Feng's skin as he returned to his apartment in Eastbridge. Maya's laughter, the way her eyes crinkled at his attempts at casual humor, replayed in his mind. She was… fascinating. A puzzle with too many unquantifiable variables. He liked it. The challenge, the slow unraveling.
He decided his next move should be multifaceted. His physical discipline needed refinement. He remembered reading about a concept called "Grease the Groove"—doing a few reps multiple times a day. Perfect. He would incorporate it into his push-ups and pull-ups. He grabbed a small notebook, dedicated to tracking his progress, something he instinctively knew would be vital for tracking and reflection. He'd log everything: reps, sets, even how his body felt. This would lay the foundation for progressive overload, pushing himself step by step. He aimed for control, too, experimenting with Time Under Tension (TUT), slowing the downward phase of his push-ups, feeling the burn. This wasn't just about strength; it was about mastery of movement.
He settled into his desk, the familiar hum of his computer a more predictable companion. The demo trading platform felt too much like playing with toy money now. The urge to feel the real sting, the real satisfaction, was a sharp pull. With a decisive click, he initiated his first real deposit. A cautious fifty dollars, transferred from his savings. It was a small amount, barely a ripple in the vast ocean of the market, but the weight of it felt immense. This wasn't pretend anymore. This was tangible.
He opened his live trading account, the interface almost identical to the demo, yet imbued with a new, raw intensity. He scanned the charts, applying the basic technical analysis he'd been learning. He spotted what looked like a promising setup on the EUR/USD pair, a clean breakout from a minor resistance level. He mentally calculated his risk-to-reward ratio – aiming for a small profit, risking even less. With a quick breath, he placed a micro-lot buy order. The numbers flickered, then settled. He saw the immediate spread, a tiny fraction of his capital already gone, a silent tax on entry. He watched the price move, just a few pips in his favor, then suddenly, sharply, it turned against him. His heart gave a strange lurch. He watched, almost mesmerized, as the virtual numbers turned red, then solid green indicating a loss. His stop-loss triggered, closing the trade automatically. Loss: $2.15. A tiny amount, but the feeling of drawdown was distinct, a hollow pang. He immediately reviewed the trade, dissecting every move, every misplaced assumption. This wasn't a game. This was real. He considered the allure of leverage, that borrowed power to amplify returns, but instinctively pulled back. It was a tempting shortcut, but he recognized the overleveraging trap—a quick way to blow an account. He had to learn discipline, not shortcuts.
After an hour of intense market review, Li Feng shifted his focus. He opened his C programming environment. He started with the basics, re-typing simple "Hello World" programs, then moving to variables, loops, functions. It was tedious, methodical, but deeply satisfying. Each line of code, each solved error, was a tiny victory, building a foundation for future mastery.
Across campus, in the bustling, colorful chaos of her dorm room, Maya tossed her phone onto her bed. Her roommates, Alexia, Mia, and Sarah, were sprawled on various surfaces, music a low thrum from a Bluetooth speaker. Emily was on a video call, giggling into her phone.
"He actually texted back!" Maya blurted out, then immediately regretted it.
"Who?" Alexia demanded, sitting up from her pile of laundry. "Oh my god, Li Feng? What did he say?"
Maya grabbed her phone, pretending to casually check a notification. "Just... asked if I was free tomorrow."
"Girl, he's totally obsessed!" Mia shrieked, making Sarah nearly fall off her yoga mat. "He touched your butt, and now he's trying to get you on a coffee date! That's, like, a classic move when a guy's totally into you."
"Yeah, he's definitely got it bad," Emily added, still giggling into her own phone. "Like Liam. He sends me, like, five texts a day just to ask how my class was. It's cute, but sometimes I'm like, chill, dude." She rolled her eyes playfully.
"Seriously, Maya," Sarah chimed in, "just admit you like him! You're blushing like crazy." She poked Maya's arm.
Maya buried her face in a pillow. "He's just... interesting, okay? He's super smart, but like, in a weird way. And he tries to be normal, but it's like he's learning how to be human or something." She finally looked up, her expression a mix of confusion and intrigue. "He even tried to flirt, I think. It was... unexpected."
"Flirting? From Li Feng?" Alexia scoffed playfully. "Okay, now I really want to see this. You go get that coffee, girl. See what kind of 'data' he's trying to collect next."
Miles away, in the quiet, expansive living room of her family home, Chloe sat on a plush velvet sofa, a fluffy white Persian cat curled on her lap. The evening light filtered through tall bay windows, illuminating antique furniture and shelves lined with leather-bound books. She stroked the cat absentmindedly, her thoughts drifting to Li Feng.
Their video call earlier had been... quirky. He'd kept his camera so tightly framed on his face, it was like talking to a talking bust. But there was something about him, a sharp intelligence behind those calm eyes, a dry wit that peeked through his precise sentences. He was so unlike anyone else she knew.
"That Li Feng boy from your class, he seems... intense," her older brother, Julian, remarked, strolling into the room with a glass of iced tea. "The one you said won that comp?"
Chloe shrugged, a small smile playing on her lips. "He is. But it's kind of cool. He's always trying to figure stuff out. He called me for 'counsel on inefficiencies' today." She chuckled. "He's figuring out how to be a person, I think. It's actually kind of endearing."
"Endearing, huh? Careful, Chlo. Intense boys are either super smart or super trouble." Julian winked, then took a sip of his tea. "Anyway, planning anything for Friday? Sarah's throwing a small thing at her place. You should come."
Chloe nodded, her thoughts still on Li Feng. He was a curious anomaly, a challenge she found herself unexpectedly interested in.
Meanwhile, on the far side of Eastbridge, Mark Chen, a tall, lean engineering student with perpetually grease-stained hands, was just clocking out of his shift at the campus auto shop. The scent of motor oil clung to his clothes, a scent he found comforting. He wiped oil from his brow with the back of his hand, exhausted but satisfied. His own apartment was small, a shared space with two other guys in a less polished part of town, but it was cheaper than the dorms, and he needed every penny. His parents ran a small convenience store, sending what they could, but most of his tuition and living expenses came from working multiple part-time jobs.
He loved the precise mechanics of an engine, the satisfying click of a wrench tightening a bolt. It was real, tangible work, a clear problem with a clear solution. He knew his way around car systems better than most textbooks, a skill he'd picked up from his uncle back home. He dreamt of one day opening his own custom car shop, building unique machines, something far beyond the Teslas he sometimes saw cruising through campus. That was the dream, the fuel that kept him going, day in and day out, even when his hands ached and his eyes burned from late-night studying after a long shift.
Back in his apartment, Li Feng gazed out his window. The city lights of Eastbridge twinkled below, and the distant drone of jets taking off from JFK was a constant, almost comforting presence. His fifty-dollar investment was down two dollars, a small drawdown, but it was real. The market, like human interaction, was a complex, unpredictable beast. He had learned a bit about pips and spreads, about stop-losses and take-profits, and felt the difference of real money. His body, too, was a new system to optimize, his calisthenics routine already being logged with precise data. He still had so much to learn, so many systems to master—the financial world, the C language, his physical form, and the bewildering, intriguing world of human connection. The day had been filled with small losses and new insights, and the sense of anticipation for tomorrow, for his coffee with Maya, was a new, powerful variable in his evolving equation.