Chapter 200: Forty-Year Fortune Cycle

"Mr. Li, in our line of work, trust between client and advisor is everything—there's risk involved, and without mutual trust, things will inevitably end badly."

Liang Jia-sheng's face lost its smile; he spoke coldly: "For your situation, I suggest letting my assistant manage your portfolio—he's also a graduate of a prestigious university."

"No need to trouble you, Mr. Liang. Thank you for your hospitality."

Li Ye didn't wait for Liang Jia-sheng to finish—he rose from the sofa, gave a slight nod, and turned to leave the office.

No matter how skilled you are, if you sit for half a day without even offering tea, do you think I'm here to get PUA'd?

Li Ye walked out of the securities firm with a cold expression; Pei Wencong hurried after him.

"Mr. Li, you see—Liang Jia-sheng is telling the truth. Even top-tier brokers like him can't fully predict the Hang Seng Index's movements."

"Besides, he doesn't usually handle small trades like this—but trading the Hang Seng is so risky, we need his expertise."

Pei Wencong had come to know Li Ye fairly well; from their earlier conversation, he could tell Li Ye was repelled by Liang Jia-sheng's arrogance.

Liang Jia-sheng was always full of himself in school, but he had the credentials—good family, strong ability, and he treated many Hong Kongers with haughty disdain."

Like he treated me, Pei Wencong."

But Li Ye stopped and turned to Pei Wencong: "Do you think I need you to tell me how risky trading the Hang Seng is? What I care about is professional ethics. No matter how skilled he is, if he acts like God, do you really think I should trust him?"

"I'll ask you this—who's the real God?"

"."

Pei Wencong fell silent for several seconds, then said: "Alright, Mr. Li—you're the one spending the money, you decide."

After getting in the car, Pei Wencong asked Li Ye: "My other classmate's office is a bit small—would you like to take a look?"

Li Ye was still in a foul mood; he nodded without expression, and A Min quickly drove off.

His other classmate's office wasn't far, but it was indeed as described—tiny.

It was rented in a run-down office building; the sign outside read "Jinbo Financial Consulting," worn and faded, with no assistants or female secretaries inside.

Just two elderly female clients were arguing loudly with a man with thinning hair.

This was clearly a fly-by-night operation!

Pei Wencong smiled awkwardly: "Mr. Li, if you're judging by professional ethics, he's even better than Liang Jia-sheng."

After Li Ye and the others entered the firm, the bald man barely acknowledged Pei Wencong before resuming his heated argument with the two women.

Pei Wencong tried to interrupt his classmate, but Li Ye waved him off.

If Li Ye had to speak Cantonese, he'd struggle—but listening was no problem.

He'd already realized: the bald man wasn't arguing with the two women—he was trying to counsel them.

"The market is terrible right now—don't be impulsive. Those two stocks have P/E ratios nearing three hundred—why buy them?"

"I can manage your trades, but there's no way to guarantee a 15% return anymore… Don't go to Zhu Datou—he'll ruin you."

The two women had wanted to entrust the bald man with trading two specific stocks, claiming "if we lose, it's not your fault," even threatening to switch firms—but he persistently urged them to be cautious.

The three argued for at least twenty minutes before finally reaching an agreement: the bald man would manage their trades, but he alone would decide which stocks to buy.

The two women pulled out bundles of Hong Kong dollars from their bags—perhaps all their savings.

"Bo-zi, after all these years of trading, you're the only one we trust—but your attitude like this will never make you rich!"

"Rich or poor doesn't matter—I can't let people jump off buildings. You've got to have conscience!"

Hearing their final exchange, Li Ye became interested in the prematurely bald man.

He reminded Li Ye of a fund manager he'd known in his past life.

Same bald head. Same sense of conscience.

In his past life, just before the Great War broke out, Li Ye had accidentally seen an ad for a top fund manager on a website and got lured in.

Then came a string of losses, traps, and bruises.

During that time, one relatively obscure fund manager left a deep impression on Li Ye.

At the very start of the war, he capped subscriptions to his fund at just one hundred yuan per investor per day.

Two months into the conflict, he lowered it further—to fifty yuan per day—and finally, he shut the subscription channel entirely.

Yet during the entire year of 22, when the entire fund market was in ruins, his fund rose 15%—a rare red spot in a sea of green.

It was the only fund Li Ye ever made money on—so he remembered it clearly.

In other words, this fund manager, if he couldn't guarantee profits for clients, simply refused to take them on.

Meanwhile, what about those top-tier fund managers?

They ran endless ads, appeared everywhere, published report after report—almost shouting: "Sir, come play! We're so much fun here!"

Damn it—whether you bought or sold, the fund managers always profited. They were guaranteed winners; even if you died, they'd peel off a layer of your skin.

And this "Bo-zi" here? He really did seem, as Pei Wencong said, to have professional ethics.

"Bo-zi, why are you here today? I heard you've made it big—hard to believe you still remember Black Fish Bo."

After seeing off the two elderly clients, Bo-zi hurried to pour tea for Li Ye, Jin Peng, and Hao Jian, chatting amiably with Pei Wencong.

When pouring tea for Li Ye, he apologized sheepishly: "Sorry, gentlemen—I was a bit rude earlier. My apologies."

Li Ye thanked him for the tea, then asked: "No need to be so formal. Were those two women your long-term clients?"

Hearing Li Ye's Mandarin, Bo-zi paused, then replied in heavily accented Mandarin: "Yes, yes! I've known them for four or five years. They made some money in past years, but this year's market is bad, so I just gave them some advice."

At that moment, Pei Wencong said: "My friend from the mainland wants to trade the Hang Seng. Talk to him."

"Trade the Hang Seng?"

Bo-zi blinked, then turned to Pei Wencong in rapid Cantonese: "Does he even know what the Hang Seng is? It's easy to get liquidated."

Pei Wencong sighed: "He's firm. His only requirement: good ethics—and he's betting on a drop to 700 points."

"Drop to 700 points?"

Bo-zi's eyes lit up; he turned to look at Li Ye.

He studied Li Ye for a long moment, then leaned forward and extended his hand: "What's your name, brother?"

Li Ye shook his hand lightly: "I'm Mr. Li. And you?"

"Oh, oh—I've got a business card."

Bo-zi quickly fished out a card and handed it to Li Ye.

Li Ye glanced at it and couldn't help smiling.

The man's name was Luo Runbo—he held a Master's in Law from HKU and a practicing lawyer's license. He was in finance and securities? That was a side gig.

Luo Runbo, used to smiles like Li Ye's, didn't mind: "Mr. Li, you're the most decisive investor I've met in half a year. I don't believe in Hong Kong's prospects either—the Hang Seng will likely fall below 700, maybe even lower, and soon."

Before Li Ye could respond, Pei Wencong exclaimed: "Bo, why so pessimistic? I just came from Liang Jia-sheng—he doesn't think the Hang Seng will drop below 700."

"How many people has Liang Jia-sheng ruined in recent years?"

Luo Runbo said this coldly, then fell silent for a long while before continuing: "I'm not pessimistic about Hong Kong—I'm pessimistic about… Britain."

Seeing Luo Runbo's somber mood, Li Ye finally took him seriously.

In recent days, nearly every Hong Konger Li Ye met believed the British Empire was still powerful, that the Iron Lady would quickly resolve the dispute.

Luo Runbo was the first Hong Konger Li Ye had met who doubted Britain.

But his vision was limited—he couldn't see that, with support from the north, Hong Kong's financial market would thrive even more after the conflict.

Perhaps realizing he'd said too much, Luo Runbo quickly recovered and asked: "How much capital are you planning to invest, Mr. Li?"

Li Ye said: "Five hundred thousand Hong Kong dollars. I'm betting on a drop to 700 points. You manage it."

Pei Wencong frowned and whispered: "Mr. Li, are you sure you want to go all-in?"

Li Ye had just over half a million on his account—he'd planned to set aside twenty-odd thousand to convert into USD as prize money for submissions. Now he was putting it all into futures. Pei Wencong was worried.

"What do you mean 'all-in'?" Li Ye said. "I get a monthly salary—how could this be all-in?"

"Yes, yes—you've got a payment coming next month. Please, do as you wish."

Profits from "The North Wind Soars" kept flowing steadily into Tawang Publishing—Pei Wencong wasn't worried about Li Ye's thirty thousand USD vanishing.

In the end, Li Ye signed a mandate contract with Luo Runbo, entrusting him with the five hundred thousand Hong Kong dollars.

Hao Jian and Jin Peng exchanged glances and began whispering: they'd received a large dividend this year—but it was all RMB. Converting to HKD was a hassle, even on the black market, where it was often unavailable.

By noon, everything was settled. Luo Runbo treated Li Ye and the others to lunch—though it was a small eatery, the food and sincerity were both genuine.

After lunch, Pei Wencong apologized to Li Ye: "Sorry, Mr. Li—I booked an appointment with Master Huang to calculate my annual fortune days ago. He just called to say I should come this afternoon. Let A Min take you out to sightsee, okay?"

"Fine. Go ahead. We'll just wander around."

Li Ye had no objection, but Hao Jian said: "Mr. Pei, since we're here for fortune-telling, let's get ours done too. I've heard Hong Kong masters are truly skilled."

Fortune-telling was popular in Hong Kong, while in the mainland, it had grown mysterious after years of crackdowns—so Hao Jian was curious.

"Skilled? I wouldn't say that—just tradition. Master Huang is just very famous. I'm not sure he'll see you. Let's go together—I'll ask for you."

After thinking it over, Pei Wencong decided to bring Li Ye and the others along—he'd let them wait outside; if the master refused, they'd simply leave.

When they arrived, Master Huang's assistant made them wait outside, letting only Pei Wencong enter.

Li Ye didn't care—he didn't believe in such things. But Hao Jian looked disappointed.

He really wanted to ask about his daughter, Hao Cuicui.

……

After entering, Pei Wencong bowed respectfully to Master Huang and voiced his concern.

"Master, I've recently met a man from the north. Can you tell me—do our destinies harmonize or clash?"

Master Huang stared at Pei Wencong's face for a long time, his calm eyes filled with surprise.

He then asked for Pei Wencong's birth details, cast divination, and finally pulled out ancient texts.

Anyone who's seen a TCM doctor knows: when the doctor starts flipping through books, trouble is coming.

Pei Wencong nearly fainted.

The British weren't gentle souls—if something happened to him because of Li Ye, who would he complain to?

"That shouldn't be possible!"

Master Huang spent a long time calculating before frowning and saying, "According to your facial features, birth chart, and divination signs, there is indeed a noble person to the north who can grant you a forty-year great fortune."

"."

Pei Wencong's soul flew away—completely gone.

A forty-year great fortune?

Is such a divination sign possible?

Is such a destiny pattern possible?

Even twenty years would bring him close to those top billionaires!

Pfft~ What are you thinking? Ten years would be enough to burn incense in thanks.

Thank you to the reader "Feng Wu Jiutian?" for the tip—brothers still by my side, so joyful, so joyful.

Thank you to the reader for the 500-coin tip,

Thank you to the reader hatsuneakina for the tip.

Thank you to all the big shots for your generosity.

(End of chapter)