Chapter 2: 001 Primordial Thunder Holy Body

This year, Beijing was about to host the Olympics, Shanghai was poised to surpass the Pearl of the Orient, real estate had just birthed a 26-year-old female richest person, and the three internet giants were taking initial shape alongside the booming industry.

This year, the people of Yangcheng hadn’t yet strongly demanded water and electricity price hikes, terms like “slow employment” and “young elderly” hadn’t been invented, and the nation still had 720 million rural residents, among whom 225 million migrant workers surged like tides.

In June of this year, a brief thunderstorm made Jin Ling’s weather even more stifling, the sticky air perfectly suited the tearful romances of graduation season.

Yu Xing was jolted awake by violent shaking; before his eyes adjusted to the light, a pungent alcohol smell triggered a familiar memory in his nostrils.

“Senior, your phone’s ringing—someone called you twice, you nearly shook the petri dishes to death in the incubator!”

Listening to the complaints beside him, Yu Xing stared for a long while at the vaguely familiar face, his mind a fog.

“What’s wrong? Sleepy? Had a nightmare?” Zhong Zhiling waved a hand in front of him, looking puzzled at his dazed senior.

Yu Xing exhaled slowly, as if waking fully from a long dream—relieved, yet terrified—and tentatively asked, “Zhao… Zhao Zhiling?”

Zhong Zhiling’s face filled with confusion; after a few seconds of silence, he said, “Senior, my surname is Zhong—Zhong Zhiling.”

Yu Xing nodded—close enough. It wasn’t his fault he couldn’t remember; this guy hadn’t been in contact since leaving school.

Hmm…

There were two unlucky bastards in the lab—the one in front was one unlucky bastard; the other unlucky bastard…

Yu Xing sighed in confusion—what could be worse than investing money before the 2008 global financial crisis?

There was!

Investing with relatives’ money!

He rubbed his face, still unable to distinguish reality from dream, feeling only a deep weariness and numbness clinging to his heart—not just from the mess of investments, but from everything that came after.

The financial crisis collapsed, he dropped out of his first-year pathology graduate program, searched fruitlessly for his senior who supposedly worked in private equity in the U.S., couldn’t become a doctor, thought internet companies made money faster, barely got into LeEco, and after a few years found things souring—the boss indeed fled.

After leaving LeEco, he tried to seize an even earlier opportunity and joined a newly founded shared-bike company…

By the time he couldn’t even get his deposit back, he was past thirty, thought long and hard, and joined the thriving industry—selling houses for Evergrande…

Not just selling—he bought too.

Started studying medicine but never practiced, later sold TVs, met Zhou’s return, dabbled in sharing economy, deposit not refunded, then turned to real estate, achieved some success, finally picked a good project—but never topped out.

Yu Xing sat motionless on the lab chair, dazed after waking from the thunderstorm dream.

Were his choices wrong?

Wasn’t it ecosystemic feedback? Wasn’t it the capital Fengkou ? Wasn’t it “too big to fail”?

How did he step on one thunderclap, then keep stepping on them?

Was it because he didn’t work hard?

He rose before dawn and worked past dusk—how else could he work harder?

Yu Xing sighed deeply, recalling the dream’s question about eyebrow pencil prices: “How expensive is it? Sometimes look inward—has your salary risen? Have you worked seriously?”

He was already a Primordial Thunder Holy Body—how could he work seriously?!

“Senior, what’s wrong? Why are you sighing so much?” The other unlucky bastard, Zhong Zhiling, poked his head over and asked.

“Nothing. Had a nightmare—dreamed I lost a huge sum of money.” Yu Xing shook his head and began scrolling through his phone contacts to check on his senior in the U.S.

“Dreams? Wash your face and it’ll pass,” the unlucky bastard Zhong Zhiling comforted him.

Yu Xing dialed while grumbling, “The nightmare felt too real—like it actually happened. Can you imagine how that feels?”

The call went unanswered; the noise beside him vanished.

After a moment, the unlucky bastard Zhong Zhiling’s voice drifted softly: “If I lost a huge sum, I’d jump off the building.”

Yu Xing’s hand froze mid-dial—oh, he’s gone…

No wonder he never contacted again… he really couldn’t be reached…

He didn’t respond, silently dialed three more times—all unanswered—when his mother, Chu Qiying, called again, the same number that had failed to get through earlier.

Yu Xing took a deep breath, vaguely hearing again his mother’s nagging in the dream: “No matter how hard it was, you should’ve finished your graduate studies; no matter what, you should’ve become a doctor…”

“Mom…” Yu Xing pressed the call button, emotions tangled—the dream felt too real, his mother’s regret still echoing in his ears.

Chu Qiying had just called out of habit, nothing urgent, but his tone made her sense something was off; she asked sharply, “What’s wrong? What happened?”

Yu Xing fell silent for two seconds, steadied himself, and sighed, “Nothing. The cells in my petri dish died—I have to start over.”

“Then start over, can’t you just do it again?” Chu Qiying said.

“Yeah, start over.” Yu Xing felt a little more uplifted.

Chu Qiying sensed her son’s low spirits and chatted about family matters.

When Yu Xing heard his mother mention his aunt looking for a house, he interrupted: “Mom, Aunt doesn’t have to live nearby—her temper…”

“Your aunt’s just like that. Living nearby means we can help each other,” Chu Qiying dismissed it.

Yu Xing fell silent. His senior’s private equity investment had started last year and had indeed made money—hence why everyone invested more this year.

Worse, the senior kept his phone open and privately called everyone to urge them to invest more.

The final result was…

The aunt who sold her house, the uncle who mortgaged his, the grandfather who emptied his savings—all joined forces to create this shattered mess…

Yu Xing’s head throbbed—Mom, a financial storm’s coming, please don’t let relatives contact each other for now…

But he couldn’t say it—he couldn’t explain it, and it wouldn’t help the current situation.

He could only listen silently, weighing his position.

Chu Qiying chatted a while longer about home, reminded him to eat on time, then suddenly said before hanging up: “Son, don’t stress too much—if it’s too hard, come back and help your uncle grow grapes.”

Yu Xing was about to agree, then froze: “Huh? Mom, you—you always wanted me to be a doctor!”

Chu Qiying admitted: “Yes, I did want you to be one. You studied so long—it’s a waste not to. But now, doctor-patient relations are so tense, doctors are under so much pressure.”

She continued matter-of-factly: “I’d rather see you happy.”

Yu Xing hadn’t expected the years of regret he’d endured to so easily twist into a completely different answer.

His nose tingled, words stuck in his throat.

Chu Qiying smiled again: “Look at your uncle—he grows grapes with a smile. Even this year’s cold snap didn’t stop him.”

Yu Xing rubbed his face and sighed: “Mom, maybe Uncle smiles in front of you, but cries alone at night.”

Chu Qiying paused, hmm—there might be some truth to that.

The thought made her restless; she hurriedly said: “Son, take care of yourself—I’m calling your uncle now, before he can’t even grow grapes!”

Yu Xing: “…”

Before he could reply, the phone line was dead.

Yu Xing shook his head, put down the phone—who the hell would grow grapes?

What’s the point? Intercropping harms grape seedlings, next year’s yield drops; uneven ground causes stunted growth; grafting old vines affects next year’s flowering…

He’d actually, in the gaps between his collapses, dirtied his face helping his uncle grow grapes…

Yu Xing dialed his U.S. senior’s number a fourth time—no answer. He stood, walked out of the lab, and washed his face. He didn’t know why—perhaps numbness, perhaps the blurred dream—but now he felt no anger, only calm.

The situation was what it was—already happened. Now think about how to fix it.

He stared at his reflection in the mirror, still remembering how panicked he’d been when the financial crisis hit—but now… perhaps there was something to fall back on.

If all else failed, endure a few years of mess, buy crypto and fill the hole.

After his initial shock, Yu Xing had been thinking hard: continuing grad school and getting a job was too slow; flipping houses required capital and was too distant to help now; buying lottery tickets? He couldn’t even remember the numbers—and even if he did, the jackpot would surely go to someone else.

How to solve this fire burning at his brow?

His senior’s phone was unreachable—but even if it rang, how could he pull money out of a locked fund?

Only three months remained until September 15, the day of the financial crisis’s tsunami—how could he fill the 5 million yuan hole from old and young alike?

Yu Xing frowned, as if again feeling the tide of the era crashing over him, and the thousand-pound dust falling from above.

Thoughts swirled—present and future, his mother’s nagging, her same feelings.

Didn’t he want her to be happy too?

Yu Xing’s scattered thoughts gradually cooled; he suddenly remembered his former bosses—they may have ended badly, but they’d been prominent figures for a time.

He murmured: “If it were Accountant Jia, Boss Dai, or Belt Xu—what would they do?”

“Who are they? What did they do?” Zhong Zhiling, returning from borrowing a book from the next lab, was washing his hands and asked casually.

Yu Xing looked at the unlucky bastard, noticed the book beside him, and said slowly in a way his junior could understand: “They’re my martial soul incarnations.”

“What the hell? How’d you summon your martial soul?” Zhong Zhiling chuckled, “Come on, let’s eat.”

Yu Xing shook his head, no appetite at all, and dismissed the junior with lab work.

Zhong Zhiling was guaranteed graduate admission—he’d officially start his first year in autumn, now just prepping early.

Yu Xing watched his junior’s light footsteps depart, then thought of his current situation and his “past” future—and sighed deeply.

He’d gotten through school by staring at the wall quotes: “Books are the ladder of human progress,” “Nothing is impossible for a willing heart,” “Sword sharpness comes from honing, plum blossom fragrance from bitter cold…”

How had he… how had he gone so wrong?

What’s wrong with this world?

What’s wrong with being one more latecomer to wealth?

Yu Xing slowly walked back to the lab, about to sit down—when his phone rang: a reply from his U.S. senior, Yu Xuhui.

He was about to answer, warn him of financial risk, try to recover his investment—when a thought flashed through his mind like lightning.

Were these funds really invested in private equity by this senior?

In the dream, Yu Xing had never doubted this for over a decade—partly because he tried to recover losses, partly because he thought this was just bad luck in a tide of the times; though the senior never returned to China, he was, in some way, a victim too.

But now, Yu Xing remembered the bold, reckless brilliance of his former bosses…

He suddenly had no qualms about suspecting his “good senior” with the worst intentions.

Yu Xing didn’t overthink—he answered the call, and turned on recording.

“Yu Xing, what’s up?” Yu Xuhui said from the U.S., “It’s just morning here in New York.”

Yu Xing suppressed the rising suspicion in his heart and spoke in a frantic tone: “Hui Ge, Hui Ge, my uncle just got diagnosed with a rare disease—he needs a huge sum of money for treatment right now! We have to withdraw the fund money!”

Yu Xuhui paused, concerned: “So suddenly? What rare disease does your uncle have?”

Yu Xing, trained in medicine, had the answer spring from his lips in an instant: “X-linked adrenoleukodystrophy!”

Yu Xuhui murmured at the name: “Kidney problem?”

Yu Xing explained for his uncle, now adding a tremor of tears: “It’s mainly a genetic mutation—brain white matter, not the kidneys. Xu Ge, this truly requires a massive amount of money—lives are at stake. The fund should stop investing for now!”

“Yes, treatment must happen. Yu Xing, don’t panic,” Yu Xuhui said seriously. “You said it’s rare—New York’s medical standards are high. I’ll look into the treatment options for this disease right away.”

Yu Xing cursed inwardly: So you’re avoiding the money, huh?

He kept the sob in his voice: “Hui Ge, we’ve already been searching for the best doctors nationwide. You know I’m trained in medicine—my uncle would be better treated in China. We just need money!”

“Yu Xing, you know the fund is closed-end—this money can’t be redeemed right now,” Yu Xuhui said, troubled. “Here’s what I’ll do: get your uncle started on treatment. I’ll help raise funds on my end. As soon as the lock-up period ends, I’ll redeem the money immediately.”

Seeing his evasion, Yu Xing pressed: “Hui Ge, my situation is special. Can you give me the contact info for the fund’s director again? I’ll call and explain.”

Yu Xuhui’s tone grew sharper: “Yu Xing, I just told you—the fund’s rules are firm. What kind of relationship do we have? If I can help you navigate this, I will.”

Yu Xing insisted: “Hui Ge, which state is your fund registered in? Maybe the redemption rules differ.”

Yu Xuhui fell silent for a moment, then suddenly laughed: “Yu Xing, what are you getting at? Should I be happy?”

Yu Xing frowned: “What do you mean? Why would you be happy?”

“I’m happy your uncle isn’t sick,” Yu Xuhui guessed inwardly, but spoke with confident probing: “You don’t trust GK Fund, do you? Did you read some sensational media again? Didn’t your money get redeemed last year-end? Yu Xing, don’t take things for granted—without my internal referral, your money never would’ve gotten in.”

Hearing that faint, sly amusement in his voice, Yu Xing’s heart sank. The money was gone for good. New York was too far away. In truth, not only had Yu Xuhui vanished after the financial crisis—his entire family had already left the country.

Now that he looked back, it was clearly just another ordinary financing scam.

After a few silent seconds, Yu Xing spoke slowly: “Hui Ge, did you even invest your own money into the fund—or was it always a Ponzi scheme?”

Paying old investors with new money, robbing Peter to pay Paul—this scam’s name came from an Italian, Charles Ponzi, over a century ago, but its high-interest lure kept the trick alive.

By year’s end, the man who rivaled Buffett in fame, Madoff, would be arrested for fraud exceeding $65 billion—the largest financial scam in history—and he used exactly this method.

Likewise, what doomed this scam was the financial crisis, when institutional clients pulled out $7 billion.

The call remained connected—but no sound came.

The answer was obvious.

Long after, Yu Xuhui’s voice finally broke the silence: “Yu Xing, how could you even have such doubts?”

Yu Xing said nothing. At this moment, he didn’t even care to press further or hear his confession aloud. Instead, he asked: “Hui Ge, how did you know my uncle isn’t sick?”

“Not convincing,” Yu Xuhui dismissed lightly. “Yu Xing, you still need practice.”

The numbness or calm Yu Xing had felt suddenly cracked open. A surge of fury made his temples throb—but his voice stayed level, accepting the advice humbly: “Understood, Hui Ge. I’ll come find you.”

“New York welcomes you,” Yu Xuhui replied, then ended the call.

Yu Xing put down his phone, thinking of the conversation, thinking of his esteemed senior’s condescending evaluation. He unconsciously narrowed his eyes. Must it really come to this—man devouring man?