Evan Ford remembered that Brian Clark was apparently a great dancer, quite famous among several nearby schools. These days, a guy who can dance well—especially in a school with more girls than boys—tends to have a lot of “lethal charm.” Things like girls fighting over him are probably something boys in later years will rarely experience.

If you’re good at breakdancing, tie on a red headband, and if you want to be fancy, add a pair of half-finger leather gloves—you’re a campus star.

Weekend dances were just one example; back then, there were usually lots of group activities at school. But later, as communication technology advanced, people actually interacted less, and loneliness became the norm.

“A weekend dance, huh?”

Evan Ford actually wanted to relive that experience, but after thinking it over, he decided to wait a while. He’d forgotten the dance steps and the people—too much time had passed. If he went, he’d probably give himself away.

So he casually found an excuse to decline.

……

……

After his roommates left, Evan Ford was the only one left in the dorm.

He rummaged through Brian Clark’s bed and found a pack of “Shuangye” cigarettes. Evan Ford took one, lit it, and leaned against the window, looking outside.

The city didn’t have much decorative lighting yet, and the streetlights on campus were dim and yellow, hazy and vast. Smoke filled his lungs, bringing a hint of coolness; as he exhaled, a thin mist appeared before his eyes.

“1992… the beginning of 1992.” He muttered twice, sinking into memories—or rather, starting to search his mind as hard as he could.

The seven years Evan Ford missed in his previous life weren’t actually lacking in memories. Precisely because he missed them, he later studied and organized everything that happened during those years like a diligent student.

At the very least, just from his later love of watching “I Love My Family,” he could remember quite a lot.

【It’s better to sell tea eggs than to make missiles.】

This saying had been circulating since the 1980s and actually explained a lot.

At this time, in most small and medium-sized cities, buying a house cost only twenty or thirty thousand yuan.

From an income perspective—excluding Shenzhen, the newly rich, and special high-paying jobs—first, small business owners made the most money. Next were migrant workers, whose income wasn’t low, sometimes even higher than some public sector jobs, like teachers. At this time, an ordinary university teacher’s salary was only about two hundred yuan, not much different from a factory worker at a profitable plant—maybe even a bit less. After that came government employees within the system, most of whom earned only a few dozen to a little over a hundred yuan. In short, many jobs that would later be envied weren’t actually that desirable at this stage.

Meanwhile, a “big brother” cell phone cost more than twenty thousand, and a good color TV or air conditioner was close to ten thousand. This didn’t mean most people were rich; it just showed how low productivity was, and that the era of nouveau riche, materialism, and flaunting wealth was just beginning.

In the next few years, whether it was salaries or food, clothing, housing, and transportation, everything would change and develop at an astonishing pace—so much so that the beginning, middle, and end of the same year could look completely different.

Evan Ford stubbed out his cigarette. “So, stability is the last thing you should consider. Even people in the system are trying to get out, right? That’s what they call ‘going into business.’”

In 1992, 120,000 government employees resigned to go into business, and over 10 million took unpaid leave. The best among them became the “92 Faction,” one of the three famous groups of entrepreneurs after the reform and opening up. The most famous was the Wantong group, including Feng Lun, Wang Gongquan, Pan Shiyi, Yi Xiaodi, and others. That year, they started their rise in Hainan.

But what they played, I can’t play now. At the very least, Feng Lun had already spent years at the Central Party School, hung out with Mou Qizhong, and his adoptive father had been a regimental commander right after the founding of the country… So what can I do?

Following this line of thought, the clues gradually became clear. Evan Ford simply turned around to find paper and pen, thinking and jotting things down as he went:

【From a safety perspective, the most ideal and suitable path for me is speculation and investment—to become an invisible tycoon. First, rely on speculation to make huge profits and snowball my capital, then invest in industries and domestic and foreign companies I know about, laying a relatively stable foundation for lifelong wealth.】

【Real estate-related ventures, like old city renovation, or new manufacturing, swallowing up state-owned enterprises, exploiting the dual-track pricing system—these are the most profitable things right now. But at least for now, I can’t touch them. No connections, no money, and even if I had money, I don’t have the ability or means to make sure I don’t get swept away by the tide. Especially the last two—better not to wade in lightly.】

【Cherish the opportunity given by fate, but also be careful not to become a machine because of it.】

【This is the fastest-changing stage of all, so time is actually very tight right now. To avoid missing those key opportunities in the next few years, I must accumulate enough wealth in these two or three years.】

【During the year I go teach in the countryside, I must have a continuously profitable business running, and someone I can trust to manage it. Mom and Dad? Not suitable.】

【So, the next half year is truly critical. Quick money—I need quick money, and a lot of it.】

After writing this, Evan Ford calmed down and read through everything from start to finish, organizing his thoughts. A scene appeared in his mind:

The game was about to begin, and several decks of cards were laid out on the table.