OFR – Chapter 210 Finance

After logging into WeChat, Mu Bai indeed found a few unread messages.

But they were just casual greetings from Han Mengyun and Jiang Wenwen.

After seeing them, he replied politely.

Especially to Han Mengyun—since she was the first buyer he interacted with after obtaining the system—he sent a couple of warm greetings and explained why he hadn’t replied right away.

The truth was, Mu Bai had set his WeChat to “Do Not Disturb” mode for the past few days.

Recently, WeChat had been pushing a lot of irrelevant notifications in an attempt to capture more of the offline payment market, which annoyed him enough to block them temporarily.

After responding to his private messages, Mu Bai casually browsed through his Moments feed. But before long, he received another WeChat push notification.

He frowned and checked it, only to find that this time it wasn’t a meaningless update—it was from the Postal Bank’s official account.

His WeChat account was linked to his phone number.

Back when he got his diamond card at the Postal Bank, Shu Xiaoxiao had kindly helped him follow the bank’s official account.

With that official account, many functions became convenient—like paying traffic fines, checking balances, viewing transaction history, or purchasing financial products. Everything could be done quickly.

The notification he’d received now was precisely about a new financial product.

“Hmm? A financial product?”

Seeing the message, his interest was piqued.

In this age of rising inflation and rapid depreciation of the RMB, investing had become a nationwide concern.

Nowadays, the purchasing power of RMB was dropping significantly every year. The minuscule interest banks offered could barely keep up with inflation.

If someone stubbornly left their money sitting in a bank, it was essentially vanishing invisibly.

So, the era of universal investing had gradually arrived.

It began with Yu’e Bao, a financial product launched by Alipay, boasting an annual interest rate of around 4%. It was easy to deposit and withdraw, and quickly became a favorite among the Chinese public. However, since the end of 2017, it had been under joint attack from various banks, and its market share plummeted.

Paving the way, Yu’e Bao’s success led to other companies launching their own financial products.

These new products lured away a large chunk of the banks’ savings capital, making once lofty and conservative financial institutions start to panic.

As one former tycoon of China once said, “If banks won’t change, then we’ll change the banks.”

Indeed, these new financial products forced traditionally rigid banks to adapt to the times.

Now, the Postal Bank’s new push notification was for a freshly launched financial product.

Mu Bai clicked on it with interest.

At the moment, his bank balance was over 1.2 billion RMB. Once all the transactions from yesterday’s auction were finalized, his balance would reach close to 3 billion!

With such a massive amount sitting idle in the bank, he figured he might as well invest some of it.

Mu Bai read the product’s introduction carefully.

The description was fairly short—clear and to the point:

“Annual Family Blessing Release: This year, our bank headquarters is launching a new financial product exclusively for our most prestigious clients. The annual interest rate ranges from 6% to 8%, which is higher than current market products like Yu’e Bao or Tenpay. The minimum buy-in is 10 million RMB, with no upper limit. Profits begin calculating the day after purchase. Withdrawals are fast—funds will arrive within 1 to 3 minutes. We warmly invite eligible clients to invest.

Note: For withdrawals, funds can only be transferred to a Postal Bank account, though purchases can be made with any bank card.”

Mu Bai quickly finished reading the basic info about the product.

It was clearly a high-threshold financial product—the minimum investment was 10 million RMB, far beyond what most people could afford.

Much like the diamond card, this was a measure by the Postal Bank to retain its most elite depositors.

But the product’s interest rate was indeed impressive.

Even at just 6% annually, an investment of 10,000 RMB would generate about 1.5–1.6 RMB in daily interest.

This placed it among the highest-yielding financial products on the market. Most importantly, since it was launched by one of the country’s Big Five banks, there were no concerns about losing principal, and the financial backing was rock solid.

After understanding all that, Mu Bai thought it over and felt the product was convenient to buy and sell—almost no different from simply keeping money in the bank.

So, he directly invested his entire 1.2 billion RMB balance into this financial product.

Twelve billion RMB invested.

A rough calculation showed that the daily interest alone would be around 200,000 RMB, or 5–6 million RMB per month.

That kind of passive income was staggering.

In all of Nanjing, there were only a handful of people whose monthly income reached that level.

In other words, Mu Bai could now do nothing at all—just be a chill, laid-back guy enjoying life in Nanjing—and the interest from this product alone would be enough to let him live in peak luxury for the rest of his life.

Of course, Mu Bai had no such intention. Investing in the product was just a casual decision.

Deep down, he didn’t care much about that monthly five or six million.

After all, his monthly spending habits already exceeded that amount by a wide margin.

But just as he was casually scrolling through the rest of the messages in the official account and getting ready to exit WeChat, something surprising happened.

The usually cold and impersonal Postal Bank’s official account actually replied to him directly with a thank-you message.

Postal Bank Official Account (Verified):
“Dear customer, thank you for your trust in our product. We will continue to do our best to serve you. We sincerely appreciate your purchase of 1.2 billion RMB worth of our financial product.”

That made Mu Bai pause in surprise, then chuckle softly.

After all—how many people could say they’d received a personal thank-you from a bank’s public account?

Apparently, if you had enough money, there really wasn’t anything you couldn’t experience.

Mu Bai smiled for a few seconds, exchanged a few polite words with the bank account manager, then ended the chat with some farewell emojis and closed the official account.

Then he logged out of WeChat.

Checking the time on his phone, he saw that time had passed quickly—it was already noon.

At this hour, Mu Bai figured that Fengshen Express’s courier should be arriving soon.

After all, Mi Xuan had just told him earlier that the courier would come around noon to pick up the packages.

To be honest, Mu Bai still felt a little uneasy shipping items worth over 2 billion RMB through regular express delivery.

But thankfully, he had signed a contract with Fengshen Express, which eased his mind a bit.