Chapter 38 The Big Shots Are Dying of Curiosity

Ye Luo never intended to torment anyone; she simply wanted to earn money. Yet, the money she made tonight all came from people who were translators themselves. Some approached her out of curiosity, others hoped to profit twice by getting compensated through her, but in the end, they all paid her translation fees. That’s why people joked she was bullying amateurs.

In just one night, she made over three hundred thousand yuan, a sum she hadn’t expected to earn on her very first evening. Of course, it helped that many had come to her out of curiosity, bringing her the most challenging material to translate. It took only a single night for YL—Ye Luo herself—to become famous on the "Top Translators Forum."

Taking advantage of the Friday night buzz, even more people came to her for translations on Saturday. All of them were established translators. They sought her out because, through their own channels, they had received numerous translation orders, but couldn't keep up with the workload themselves. Seeing her remarkable skill, rapid speed, and reasonable prices, they handed their jobs over to her, making money off the difference in fees without losing out—and with much less effort.

Ye Luo had no other channels for translation work besides this forum, so this arrangement spared her the trouble of expanding her network. Thanks to her translation software’s astonishing speed, she could complete any translation task, no matter the length, within ten minutes. This stunned the "Top Translators Forum."

She was instantly elevated to legendary status. Whenever YL was mentioned, she was hailed as the "Translation Deity." Yet, people doubted whether Ye Luo was working alone, though it didn’t seem like a team either—no person or group could possibly work this fast. If it were a machine, it couldn't possibly be so precise. Everyone was curious how Ye Luo managed it. Even the top-tier translation experts were dying to know and messaged her privately to ask. Ye Luo, however, never replied. It was her private matter—she would share it if she wished, and keep silent if she didn’t.

She glanced at her bank balance: thirty thousand earned last night, and one hundred sixty thousand today, a neat total of two hundred thousand. The odd few cents were what had always been in He Luo’s account. He Luo’s bank card had never held much. The day Ye Luo became He Luo, there were only those few cents, which she had never touched.

He Luo possessed only a single bank card. That wouldn’t do; she needed to get a few more. At the very least, she should give one to her ancestor, so he would have money to use. This was her responsibility as the head of the Ye family.

So, on Sunday at ten in the morning, Ye Luo shouldered her bag and left her room, planning to go to the bank and open several new accounts. Passing by the study, with its door wide open, she saw clearly: Gong Lu was sitting at the desk, a book open before him, holding a pen in one hand and a bookmark in the other, gazing at it.

Ye Luo paid no mind and walked past. Gong Lu noticed a shadow pass by, glanced instinctively, but saw only the empty doorway. Unbothered, he refocused on the bookmark, lost in thought.

On the bookmark, painted with ink wash, two characters were written vertically—one "Ye," the other "Luo"—both rendered in an elegant, bold script, striking and handsome in their style.