Evan Ford's family couldn't be considered poor in this era. Although they lived in a small county town, his mother had always worked at a collective factory, and a few years ago his father had even partnered with someone to do a small business, saving up a bit of money...

6,000 yuan—Evan Ford remembered now, it was this year that his parents invested all their savings, 6,000 yuan, with a cousin-in-law, saying they were going to start a small furniture factory. In the end, he took the money to gamble and lost it all in one night.

How could he get that 6,000 yuan?

In rebirth novels set in later times, even four- or five-year-old children could get their parents to hand over all their hard-earned money to do as they said, and by twelve or thirteen, they could chat confidently with bureau chiefs and mayors, offering advice and strategies...

Evan Ford wasn't that naive. He knew very well that in this era, the concept of keeping one's head down and behaving was still widespread. His hardworking parents, like the vast majority of ordinary people of their generation, didn't believe in the myth of the stock market and didn't approve of such speculative behavior. Precisely because information wasn't widespread and they knew little about new things, they were afraid and chose not to get involved.

At the same time, it was exactly because most people were afraid and uninformed, honest and timid, that a few could create wealth legends. This was actually the foundation of all wealth legends in this era—trying new things, daring to take risks, getting ahead of others.

Taking away all the savings his parents had worked so hard for most of their lives—this wasn't easy.

Even though Evan Ford had always been obedient and had good grades since he was young, he still didn't think he could persuade his parents to hand over all their hard-earned savings for him to "make money."

Even if there was an eighty percent chance, he wouldn't dare to be direct, because if he was rejected, he definitely wouldn't get the money, and there wouldn't be time to make up a lie.

He had to come up with a way to make sure they would definitely give him the money... Simply put, just lie, "cheat" them.

It was hard, but not that hard, because Evan Ford knew his parents too well. Their love for him was beyond measure.

"I'm sorry, for the sake of a happy future, your son can only do this."

Having made up his mind, Evan Ford rushed back to the dormitory as fast as he could, shook Brian Clark awake, and while stuffing all sorts of things into his backpack, asked, "How many exams do we have left, and when are they?"

Brian Clark, still half-asleep, mumbled, "What's wrong with you, you can't even remember this... Just one left, math, the day after tomorrow."

Math? Even if I took it now, I wouldn't pass, and I still have to wait until the day after tomorrow. By the time I get to Shenghai, who knows what the scene will be like for the rush to buy...

There's no time. Evan Ford decided instantly: "When the time comes, help me tell the teacher I'm sick, really sick, almost dying, and apply to retake the exam next semester."

"Oh... huh? Where are you going?"

"Hey, if you leave, who am I supposed to copy from during the exam?"

Brian Clark finally woke up, watched as Evan Ford rushed out of the dorm without looking back, and couldn't stop him no matter how he called. He was stunned for a moment, then understood, sighed, and shook his head helplessly:

"Acting like nothing's wrong on the surface... turns out he's really hurt. Grace Young, man, you and I aren't done yet."

...

...

At this time, there was still no rain shelter next to the bus stop, only two concrete pillars standing there, with a small platform poured on top, spreading out like an umbrella.

There weren't many people. While the bus hadn't arrived yet, Evan Ford carefully studied the bus sign to confirm that the route to the train station matched his memory.

As he turned around, someone bumped into his shoulder, making him stagger back several steps until he managed to steady himself by grabbing the bus sign—what strength.

The guy was at least 1.8 meters tall, and even under his winter clothes, you could tell he was all muscle.

When Evan Ford looked at him, a few people nearby were secretly signaling him with their eyes, telling him not to mess with that person.

In fact, Evan Ford had no intention of provoking Adam Grant. This guy was just too famous—even Brian Clark had almost been beaten up by his gang, so Evan Ford actually remembered him.

Adam Grant was, during Evan Ford's three years at vocational school, the leader of the most "notorious" group in the nearby streets—about forty or so seventeen- or eighteen-year-old punks.

The reason they were called punks was that, under Adam Grant's lead, besides being brave and liking to hang around, they weren't like those who truly went down the shady path, who did everything for money and had clear goals.

In this era, contracting projects, running entertainment businesses, even opening video halls and selling pirated goods—there were actually many people who could be considered "punks" who made it big, some even becoming "tycoons" later.

But Adam Grant wasn't one of them. He was just in it for the "swagger."

As far as Evan Ford could remember, this "little tyrant" seemed to have only one person who could control him—his older sister. So people nearby, including students from several schools, whenever they were bullied, would go complain to his sister, and then he would get a good beating.

Evan Ford remembered seeing that scene: the sister apologizing on her brother's behalf, eyes brimming with tears, hitting her brother again and again, while the punk brother just hugged his head and kept admitting fault, not daring to talk back.

That's right, Evan Ford was sure of his memory, because Adam Grant's sister was actually even more famous than him—the belle of the city's No. 2 Textile Factory, Emily Grant.