Chapter 25.1

Hu Yu had been anxiously awaiting the admission notices, on pins and needles every day. They arrived two weeks later.

Staring at the words stamped across the front of one of the envelopes, she swallowed. Her hands trembled as she tore it open.

Yan University!

Lin Jingzhe had fulfilled his seemingly impossible ambition! He would be the first person from Liyun Town to enter Yan University since her teaching career began!

Even more surprisingly, Gao Sheng had actually been admitted to Wutong University!

Thise year’s college entrance examination was very difficult. Examinees did poorly throughout the entire province, especially those in rural counties and towns. In a more well-off, neighboring city, more than a third of the students chose to retake the exam. Under such circumstances, it was impossible for colleges and universities to recruit students according to previous years’ standards.

Gao Sheng applied for a major that was short of students, so he miraculously managed to get in with a score of 2 points over the requirement for admission.

Just like the second mock exam, Zhou Haitang did better than Gao Sheng—he scored 7 points higher than Gao Sheng and, of course, also received an admission notice from Wutong University.

Deng Mai was accepted by a vocational college in Yan City: his major… kindergarten education? However, he never planned to attend, so his potential pupils were saved. His choice provoked countless arguments in the Deng family. Deng Mai’s father, Deng Fengshou, received a notice of appointment in June. He was promoted from deputy commissioner to chief of the PSB bureau in Liyun Town, finally crossing the most difficult threshold of a public service career. This veteran police officer wanted to arrange for his son to attend a police school or join the army so he could serve the public after graduation. The father wished to look after his son, but unfortunately, it was poles apart from Deng Mai’s plans for his own life.

Deng Mai may have seemed happy-go-lucky, but he knew his own mind. He would rarely let other people’s advice or exhortations change his decisions.

Deng Fengshou was so angry he almost burst a blood vessel when quarreled with his son. Su Wei wasn’t able to persuade either of the stubborn mules and could only bathe her face in tears. Deng Mai had no choice but to hide out at Gao Sheng’s house for some peace and quiet.

“Eh.” On the table stood a small teapot along with several teacups. Deng Mai poured all the tea into his enamel mug and drained it in one gulp, then sighed. “Why can’t they understand? I really don’t like studying.”

Lin Jingzhe didn’t make any more tea. He took the copper pot from Deng Mai, huffing silently, You’re going to drink water from now on.

Sitting on a stool, Gao Sheng browsed the books Lin Jingzhe had purchased in Shen City, absently listening to Deng Mai’s complaints. The stool was short, however, and made him look like he was squatting.

Deng Mai talked for a long time; the gist of it was that he hated studying so much that even thinking about studying made him want to die. That part, Lin Jingzhe was clear on.

He didn’t think Deng Mai should be persuaded otherwise. Some people were inherently unsuited to studying—if Deng Mai was forced to attend university, he’d just goof around.

Deng Mai had no desire for book knowledge. He was intelligent, had a very high EQ, and could easily learn by analogy. However, his abilities had never been reflected in his studies, though he had always used them in daily communication and interactions.

In high school, he was able to become leader of the half-grown, unruly youths in Class 5. After navigating through the many rules and regulations in his past life, he’d held almost a complete monopoly on the bars in Liyun Town and its neighboring cities. In Shen City, while Lin Jingzhe was busy working, Deng Mai usually arranged the young men’s daily activities. The country boy spoke with an accent, but since he didn’t reveal even an ounce of inferiority, others only felt he was a novelty. He took care of his two friends, letting them eat delicious food and taking them to stroll around the city when they were free.

For people like Deng Mai, studying was by no means the only way out. Moreover, in the 1990s, opportunities were everywhere and he had more potential than Gao Sheng and Zhou Haitang. On the contrary, he was more likely to achieve success than others who might be more talented at studying.

“Don’t rush,” Lin Jingzhe said. “You need to be patient—changing someone’s mindset takes time. You can’t expect it to happen overnight.”

Moved to tears, Deng Mai threw himself forward to hug Lin Jingzhe’s knees. “Big Bro, really, you’re the only one who understands me.”

Lin Jingzhe grumbled, thinking, Who’s your Big Bro, aren’t you older than me?

Hu Yu, who just came home with a carp, heard Deng Mai’s words and gave him a disapproving glance.

“What foolishness are you spouting,” she rebuked, then turned to Lin Jinzhe. “Don’t play along with him—no matter what, giving up his studies is out of the question! You’re still children and may not realize it yet, but when you grow up, you will know how important it is.”

Lin Jingzhe smiled but didn’t speak and motioned for Deng Mai to shut up. From Hu Yu’s perspective, her opinion was completely reasonable. If people couldn’t agree to disagree, it was best to avoid the point of contention and just keep quiet.

Deng Mai was certain that his Big Bro Lin would have a way to save him from the sea of suffering. Grinning, he snatched a book from Gao Sheng, one that explained basic business concepts and financial development in layman’s terms, and casually flipped through it.

Hu Yu sighed as she killed the fish.

Not because of herself—she had nothing to worry about. After getting listed as an official teacher, she had been treated better, with higher pay, work benefits and welfare. In addition, as Lin Jingzhe’s class teacher, she got prize money awarded by the Yan City Education Bureau for her student’s accomplishments. She was quite well off now. Since Lin Jingzhe currently lived at her house, she bought meat every day, from lamb to softshell turtle, cooking nutritious meals to supplement the youth’s thin body.

She was worried about the children.

They were going to attend school in Yan City, thousands of miles away. It was so far away that even she, an adult, had never been there before. Could these wet-behind-the-ears kids take care of themselves?

Would they eat well, dress warmly, and get proper amounts of sleep? What if they were bullied or taken advantage of, or got into trouble with no one there to restrain them?

Aside from that, though she was fully satisfied with Lin Jingzhe’s school and major, she couldn’t wrap her head around Gao Sheng and Zhou Haitang’s majors.

Computer Science?

Regret crossed her mind. When she saw Wutong University and their first-choice majors on their college application forms, she thought they had done it for fun, since they were unlikely to get admitted anyway. If she’d known that things would turn out as they had, she would’ve definitely stopped the naughty boys.

Computer Science, that is, to learn about computers? But what could one learn about computers? Few people had even heard about them, let alone seen one—no one in Liyun Town owned a computer. It was only when the former principal, Tao Fangzheng, demanded to set one up in the principal’s office, that Hu Yu learned how expensive computers were—a single machine cost 10,000 to 20,000 yuan!

Later, when Tao Fangzheng left, the new principal, Qu Yuan, immediately cancelled the huge expenditure. The fabled computer remained a mystery.

What was the point of learning that stuff?! Would it help them find a job or let them eat?!

When the oil in the pan was hot enough, Hu Yu slid the carp into it, frying it until the skin was crisp and slightly burnt.

She was unhappy with the baffling major, but she loathed letting them pass up a chance to attend Wutong University. Even in her wildest dreams, she never imagined her foolish son would get into such a prestigious university.

Oh, forget it, Hu Yu thought, pouring rice wine into the pan. Since he was accepted, let him go.

It was Wutong University, after all—no matter the major, as a graduate, it was likely he’d be able to find a job in Liyun Town. Maybe he could even work in the provincial capital?

Turning off the fire, she placed the carp on a serving plate and sprinkled it with finely chopped chives.

Sitting down after clearing the chessboard from the table, Lin Jingzhe heard a call from the kitchen, “Dinner is ready!”

As Lin Jingzhe ate the carp roe in his bowl, he realized that a few weeks had passed since his visit to Shen City. His stocks should’ve already begun to rise, shouldn’t they?

Shen City, Good Fortune Securities.

Tian Dahua parked his car on the curb, got out in a hurry, and rushed into the building.

It was already packed full of shareholders watching the stock market board. Squeezing through the crowd, he looked up, his heart pounding—

It rose! It rose again!

He felt a burning hot sensation in his stomach, as if a pot of boiling oil had been poured down his throat. Biting his finger, his expression alternated between excitement and regret before settling into one too complex to describe.

Eyes fixed on the board, he pulled out his cell phone and dialed a number. “How is it? Were you successful?”

The acquaintance on the other end said, {Brother Tian, with how the stock market has been skyrocketing recently, no one is willing to sell their shares. It’s not that I don’t want to help you—I’ve been trying my best, but I’m simply unable to buy them!}

“Damn it!” Tian Dahua was sweating. Unable to stop himself, he stamped his foot. “Just help me, you must have some way!”

{Of course, I will buy the stock for you as soon as somebody sells it, but Brother Tian, you know that I can’t control the market—I really can’t give you a guarantee.} Having issued this caveat, the man couldn’t help but add, {Well, you really should’ve bought it earlier—those who did are getting rich.}

After Tian Dahua hung up, he growled through clenched teeth, “You think I don’t know that?!”

Feeling like his heart had been pierced by an iron skewer and roasted over the fire, Tian Dahua wiped the sweat off his face and looked around. As he watched, he noticed several investors were in the same state, and a sense of sympathy swelled in his chest.

He literally saw piles of gold turn into sand and slip through his fingers—no businessman worth his salt could endure the feeling!

He couldn’t help thinking about the young man who made dealings with him not long ago and had left a deep impression on him. That young man had purchased 500,000-worth of shares at the lowest price on the morning the stock exchange had opened, which accounted for almost one-tenth of the day’s turnover. Tian Dahua was skeptical then, but by now, every trace of doubt had been wiped from his heart.

The youth’s fair face, with a bit of baby fat still on his cheeks, seemed full of sagacity in Tian Dahua’s mind. Was it possible for someone to be that far-sighted? It was as if the young man knew the future—he bought a huge amount of stocks like it was nothing, then just left, free and easy.

Tian Dahua used to think it was simply a rich young master not taking money seriously, but now it seemed that the youth had already predicted this outcome.

A week before the opening of Shen City Stock Exchange, the market began to steadily rise. More and more ordinary people were trying to understand the stock market; the contents of Shen City Daily in the following days were also more or less related to it. As Tian Dahua kept watching, the uncertainty in his mind was gradually dispelled by the exponential growth. Then, one day, on the front page of Shen City Daily, a picture of one of the national leaders appeared with an article quoting his words. He was full of praise and encouragement for the Shen City Stock Exchange.

At the same time, he announced another piece of important news: the stock exchange in the special zone would open soon!

The implied meaning was that the state intended to vigorously develop the stock market! The whole country’s financial circle boiled over. From Yan City to the SEZs… countless newcomers flocked to Shen City, completely covering the already bustling trading floor. With heavyweights using their connections and retail investors squeezing in as they clutched onto their money, all the stocks were snapped up in an instant! Nothing like this had ever happened before!

Tian Dahua couldn’t dilly-dally any longer—he finally decided to jump on the boat.

But by that time, the pond was full of competitors, and there were no fish to catch.

In 1990, not many stocks were available in Shen City Stock Exchange. After such a frenzied fight, their prices had soared, but it was of no use.

Because very few people were willing to sell.

Tian Dahua looked on in despair as the trading volume plummeted. He asked his acquaintances to keep an eye on small investors, but he wasn’t the only one—there were too many monks and not enough gruel. Everyone scrambled to get shares, using whatever means and methods they had at their disposal, but…

Take Aeon Technology’s stock, the one Lin Jingzhe had purchased, as an example—now, it had more than tripled in price.

The initial 500,000 yuan transformed into over a million in only half a month! Except for those running criminal businesses, at the risk of losing their lives at any moment, who else could gain so much profit so quickly?!

Many workers even quit their jobs to become professional “board watchers,” a new occupation that appeared seemingly overnight. Watching the stock market board was a kind of sweet torture. Tian Dahua deeply regretted his hesitation but still came at least once a day to witness history in the making.