The First Chapter: An Unexpected Encounter

  Speculation is a profound subject, and speculators are engaged in a hazardous high-risk profession that requires business acumen far beyond any other industry. A successful speculator must be:

  A master of strategic layout is not moved by short-term gains, learn from Buffett's stock purchases.

  Must be a master of psychological analysis, able to accurately grasp the mental changes of various roles around, at least as sensitive as Lu Xiaofeng's nose.

  Must have the skills of a detective, able to find the hidden clues from the tedious and confusing information, but be careful, beware of the tragic ending of being deceived like Zuo Lengchan.

  It's better to be a green leaf, don't fight for the red flower. The danger of being plucked is too great, and those who scheme to become the red flower often end up badly, just like Uncle Saddam.

  When green leaves don't represent a lack of strength, speculators must have real power in their hands. Not only should they have small but fierce roles like Xiao Ma Ge, but also big backers like Li Chao as allies.

  Also, we must grasp the profit point well and never indulge in empty talk or arrogance, just like that little dwarf on the island who spent all day dreaming on the island and finally fooled himself into becoming a madman.

  The most important thing is that speculators must also have a bottom line and firmly defend it. Wei Xiaobao still knows to go fishing for a few years, you can't be worse than him.

  After searching through the Twenty-Four Histories and browsing through Western legendary stories, there are basically no speculators who fully meet these conditions, or they have not been recorded. This is because superior speculators grasp the above key points.

  The temple in the valley of Quanling, Zhebei is famous far and near. According to legend, it was built during the Tang Dynasty under Wu Zetian's reign, over a thousand years ago. Despite experiencing wars and fires, the incense remains prosperous. Every year at the beginning of spring, villagers from surrounding villages come to burn incense and worship Buddha, praying for favorable weather and a good harvest. The town of Yunqiao at the foot of the mountain also holds an annual "Noisy Valley God" festival, where each village sends out strong men to dance dragons and pretty girls to dress up as boatwomen, making noise and excitement all the way to the town center. This is a major tourist attraction in the area, attracting many sightseers from Hangzhou and Shanghai every year.

  Early spring has arrived, the cold wind is still biting, although there are not many incense guests, the Valley God Temple is still surrounded by swirling incense smoke. A young man wearing a long shirt devoutly shook the divination cylinder, "click", a divination slip jumped out of the cylinder, the young man picked it up and took a look, then turned around and walked towards the fortune-telling area.

  "Trouble the master to interpret the sign." The young man respectfully handed over the sign in his hand to the white-bearded monk behind the desk. The monk took the sign, narrowed his eyes and looked at it, then picked up a book on the table, flipped through it with his finger until he reached the target, and muttered: "The road of mortal life is long and I am a guest, the precious scabbard cannot hide the cold light of the sword, my ambition was originally that of a scholar, but deep in the white clouds is my home." He raised his head and said with a smile: "Amitabha, what does the donor seek?"

  "The road ahead." The young man fell silent for a moment.

  After finishing, the old monk looked up at the young man, his eyes slightly condensed, and said: "The donor asked about the future, forgive me for not being frank, this is a mediocre sign. From the sign language, the donor encountered strange things, but the ambition is great, and the future is unpredictable. Amitabha Buddha, the Buddha said that good roots seek good results, the donor should not think of gains and losses. Amitabha Buddha."

  "Thank you, Master." The young man took out a silver ingot from his bosom and placed it on the table, then slightly inclined his body to pay respects.

  Out of the mountain gate, the young man walked down the steps, and the mountain wind gently blew against his face. The branches had already sprouted new green shoots, but he seemed to have no heart to appreciate this early spring scenery. Instead, he muttered to himself in a low voice: "The road is long and I am a guest, a guest... I am a guest, yes, I am a guest of this era. But this guest cannot return. This old heaven, it's really a damn old heaven."

  "Valley God, God, who can let me go back, I will definitely give you a golden body, and be your most devout believer. No longer messing around with those little star ghosts, no longer corrupting state officials, and being an honest person from now on, amen."

  Slowly, the young man walked into the town. Yunqiao Town was not big, with only one street from the head to the tail of the town, and a few small alleys in between. In the center of the town, there was a theater stage. Every year, several troupes of traveling performers would come to perform here. During festivals and holidays, the large households and clans in the town would often invite them to entertain their fellow villagers.

  Having been here for several months, from a young person's perspective, the local customs are simple and pure, interpersonal relationships are uncomplicated. If something happens, it is usually handled by the wealthy or clan leaders. During his stay of several months, he encountered two such incidents, one of which was his recognition of his father.

  It was more than a month after he woke up that he thought it was all a setup by his friends, from the initial amusement, suspicion, numbness, confirmation, and despair. He was grateful to the elderly couple who saved him, if not for them, he would have either frozen to death or been fed to wolves like Sanlin Niu's son, but there wouldn't be a woman saying "I'm so stupid". So in the end, he decided to acknowledge the old couple as his parents, and the childless elderly couple was overjoyed. They, who were not wealthy, spent all their savings on three or four tables of "luxurious" banquet, inviting relatives and neighbors, and he also kowtowed three times to his adoptive parents in public, becoming the son of Zhuang Lai Shun, and was entered into the Zhuang family tree, changing his name to Zhuang Jihua. Jihua is the name he would be known by in later life. His parents, who immigrated to America, hoped that their child would always remember that they were Chinese.

  This simple and honest atmosphere made him dare not confirm whether he was in the legendary "Republic of China" era, because in the books he had read, this era should be chaotic, peasants were miserable, landlords were inhumane, on the contrary, he saw that the relationship between those landlords and peasants was completely different from what was written in books or some TV dramas, at least better than the migrant workers of the previous life, at least for now.

  Bluestone slabs, upturned eaves, wisps of smoke curling around, men carrying bamboo poles, young wives with buns, big girls with braids and bangs, women in cheongsam are rare, occasionally one walks by, but not the kind often seen in later films with high slits that reach the knee bend, yet their elegant figures are also pleasing to the eye, the small town is simple, pure and natural.

  Zhuang Jihua walked down the street, occasionally glancing at the shops on either side, but without any intention of entering. Before heading up the mountain, he had pawned his only valuable possession in this era - a watch - for 360 taels of silver. The old shopkeeper had told him that the watch was definitely worth more than that, but if he wanted to get a good price, he would have to go to a big city like Shanghai or Nanjing. With no other choice, Zhuang Jihua accepted the offer. This watch had been a gift from his father when he graduated from graduate school, and even in America it would be worth tens of thousands of dollars. As for the other things he had brought with him to this world - his mobile phone, credit card, renminbi, and US dollars - they were all useless, nothing more than decorations. At first, he had thought that US dollars might still have some value, but when he saw the words "Series 2002" next to George Washington's portrait, he realized... ...he was just a poor man in this era.

  Unconsciously, he saw a tea shop in front of him swaying, and only then did he feel a little thirsty. He had been out for more than half a day and had found what he wanted, but was still wandering around. Wine shops and tea houses were places where news spread among scholars and writers.

  At the entrance of the teahouse, three sedan chairs were parked, and several bearers sat aside drinking water and chatting. As he entered the teahouse, the waiter led him upstairs with a smile, and he followed without saying anything, finding a seat by the window, ordering a plate of osmanthus cake, a plate of small su biscuits, and a pot of cloud and mist tea, taking the opportunity to observe the guests on the second floor.

  Perhaps it was the lingering chill of early spring, but there were only five tables of guests on the floor. The farthest from him were two men who looked like businessmen, while to his left were three elderly men playing chess. His attention was soon drawn to a table in the middle, where there were also two plates of dim sum, but with an additional plate of pine seeds. Three people sat around this table: the man in the middle appeared slightly older and somewhat frail, wearing a blue cotton long shirt and a pair of glasses perched on his nose, leaning against the back of his chair; the person to his left wore a gray cotton long shirt and had a serious expression, but what caught his eye was - he was bald. The man to his right looked more pleasant, with a flat head, a square face, and wearing a Western-style suit that was rarely seen locally. These two men shared one thing in common: they both sat up straight. The tables on either side of them were clearly their entourage, which was also what drew his attention.

  "School is about to start, sir hopes brother can return as soon as possible to take charge of everything." The suit's tone has a very heavy Cantonese flavor.

  "Many things, you also know that the school is about to open, but there are no funds, venues, equipment, or teachers. How can the school operate? Those smokers still won't stop making things difficult, and Mr. is busy with his affairs, unable to take care of it. We've suffered some grievances, but if this continues, how can the school go on? It's better to just stop operating now rather than being laughed at for closing midway." The bald-headed man said with a tone of resentment.

  "I have discussed this with my brother several times, and this time he has made up his mind to start the school. As for other matters, Brother Zhong will guarantee that Brother Long won't have to worry about them, and Brother Long only needs to focus on teaching. Moreover, even if there are villains, they have promised to fully support us, so we don't need to worry about what comes after."

  "Bad guys? Hmph, hmph." The bald man snorted twice. "You can't trust bad people, they use ideology to justify their plundering actions. I will never believe that we can cooperate with them from start to finish and achieve success together. Sir, you insist on your own views, but in the future, it's hard to avoid being harmed by them."

  "Otherwise, I have recently studied the doctrine of evil men, which has something in common with your views. Since you have decided to unite with them, we should do our best to assist. You often call yourself a disciple of yours, but now you want to abandon him and leave? If so, how can you face your fellow men and the world?" The bald-headed man's words made the man in the suit somewhat agitated, his tone not without directness.

  At this time, the bespectacled man sitting crookedly in his chair reached out and picked up a small pastry, "Jishi, try some of this, it's soft and tastes good with this cloud and mist tea, which is great for relieving internal heat."

  The bald man seemed to have great respect for the glasses, so he closed his mouth and didn't speak, picked up a pine nut and put it in his mouth; The suit held up the teacup and took a sip of tea.

  "Ji Shi..." said the glasses after taking a sip of tea.