Super Rich: Starting the game by going back ten years to buy Bitcoin

"It collapsed three years ago."

When Liu Xiaoyu uttered those four words, they were light and airy, carrying almost no weight.

But when it hit Li Yichen's ear, it felt heavy and made his chest feel tight.

It's collapsed?

The Liu family?

The Liu family, who drive BMWs, do trade, and have tens of millions in annual revenue?

He opened his mouth as if to ask something, but Liu Xiaoyu didn't give him a chance to speak.

She lowered her head and wiped the tears from her face with the back of her hand, making her makeup even more smudged.

"The details are a long story, we'll talk about it another day—"

Her words were cut short.

Their gazes were fixed on a certain direction behind Li Yichen.

His expression changed.

It wasn't a gradual fading change; it happened in an instant, transforming from soft, red, swollen eyes to a stiff, pale one.

Li Yichen subconsciously turned around.

Five or six men walked over from the direction of the mall's atrium.

The man leading the group was a middle-aged man in his fifties, with a buzz cut and a fleshy face. He wore a dark gray jacket, zipped up to his chest. Behind him were four or five young men, not very old, but each one was burly and walked with a brisk pace.

They don't look like they're shopping.

The target was crystal clear. His eyes were fixed intently on them, his steps neither fast nor slow, but without any hesitation.

They came because of Liu Xiaoyu.

Li Yichen's back tensed slightly.

He took half a step to the side of Liu Xiaoyu, subtly blocking her path.

The group stopped about two meters away.

The middle-aged man at the front glanced at Li Yichen but ignored him, his gaze passing over Li Yichen's shoulder and landing on Liu Xiaoyu's face.

"Liu Xiaoyu".

His voice was hoarse and neither high nor low, but the air of it was so natural that it made the surrounding air feel slightly tense.

Liu Xiaoyu stood still, her hands hanging at her sides, her fingers gripping the side seam of her work skirt.

He didn't say a word.

The middle-aged man took a step forward, his hands in his jacket pockets.

"When are you going to pay me back the money your family owes me?"

Li Yichen bit down with his back teeth.

Owes money.

He didn't reply, his eyes lingering on the middle-aged man's face for two seconds before scanning the group of young men behind him. They were strong, but not the kind of strong that someone involved in organized crime would have; they looked more like construction workers carrying cement.

The middle-aged man didn't look like a gangster. No tattoos, no cigarette burns, and his nails were neatly trimmed. He looked like a businessman.

"Uncle Zhao."

Liu Xiaoyu's voice was still hoarse.

She stepped out from behind Li Yichen and stood in front.

"I know that debts must be repaid. My brother and I have been working to pay it off for the past few years—"

"It's been three years."

The middle-aged man interrupted her.

A finger was raised and waved twice in the air.

"It's been three years, Liu Xiaoyu. Don't blame Uncle Zhao for pressuring you. Uncle Zhao also has a family to support."

His voice rose slightly, and the young men behind him tightened their stance, subtly forming a semi-circle.

"With the meager wages you and your brother earn, how long would it take to pay back tens of millions of yuan a month?"

Liu Xiaoyu pursed her lips. She didn't refute.

Because that statement is correct.

The middle-aged man stared at her for two seconds, then lowered his voice even further.

"I only found out recently—three years ago, before your family went bankrupt, your dad bought you an apartment in Shanghai."

Liu Xiaoyu paused for a moment.

It was very slight.

But Li Yichen, standing behind her, could see it clearly—her shoulders had tucked in slightly, and her chin had dropped a little.

The middle-aged man continued.

"That house isn't worth a huge sum, but it's still worth a few million. How about you sell it and pay off part of the debt?"

The last three words were slightly raised at the end, carrying a tone of negotiation.

But that wasn't a discussion. That was a notification.

Liu Xiaoyu remained silent for five seconds.

The mall's loudspeaker blared again, a saccharine female voice announcing discounts, completely out of place with the atmosphere.

"Uncle Zhao."

She looked up.

His eyes were still red, but no more tears were falling. There was a stubborn, resilient energy within them.

"My brother and I will pay back the money we owe. Don't worry about the rest, we'll cover it all. But that house—"

Her Adam's apple bobbed.

"It was left to me by my father before he died."

Before his death.

When those two words slipped from her lips, her voice was kept as low as it could be.

Li Yichen's mind went blank for a moment.

Before his death—meaning Liu Xiaoyu's father was no longer alive.

When did he leave? How did he leave? He didn't know.

Five or six years ago, when he changed his phone card, moved to a different city, and left without looking back, the Liu family was still the same glamorous Liu family.

It collapsed three years ago. My father is gone.

She and her brother worked in Shanghai to pay off their debts.

What exactly happened in the past few years?

Questions kept popping into my head, but now was not the time to ask them.

The middle-aged man's expression remained unchanged after listening to Liu Xiaoyu's words.

It's not indifference. It's the kind of detachment that only someone who's been in business for decades possesses, a detachment that clearly separates emotions from accounts.

"If you don't sell the house, how will you pay me back?"

He stretched out one hand, his five fingers spread wide.

"Your family owes me ten million. Over the past few years, you and your brother have paid back several hundred thousand. The remaining nine million four hundred and fifty thousand—are you going to rely on your combined monthly salary of a few thousand?"

He shook his head.

"No. You must sell the house and pay back the money by tomorrow at the latest. Otherwise, don't blame Uncle Zhao for being ruthless—I'll apply to the court for enforcement."

Liu Xiaoyu clenched her hands tightly at her sides.

My fingernails dug into the flesh of my palm until they turned white.

But she didn't say anything.

Because she lacked the confidence to refute it. Nine million four hundred and fifty thousand. With her monthly sales assistant salary of five or six thousand yuan, it would take her nearly twenty years to pay it off without eating or drinking.

Twenty years.

She's twenty-three this year. She'll be forty-three when she finishes paying it off.

He sacrificed the best twenty years of his life.

"Wait a moment."

A voice came from behind Liu Xiaoyu.

Not too high, not too low, not too fast, not too slow.

The middle-aged man shifted his gaze away from Liu Xiaoyu's face, turning back two inches.

Li Yichen walked out from behind Liu Xiaoyu and stood next to her.

"How could the Liu family owe you money?"

The middle-aged man looked Li Yichen up and down.

from head to foot.

Thin blazer, white T-shirt, dark trousers, new derby shoes.

His gaze lingered for a second on the label on the lapel of the suit jacket—although the label was turned inside out and couldn't be seen, the quality of the fabric and the craftsmanship of the stitching were enough for someone who had been in business for decades to tell the difference at a glance.

not cheap.

But the middle-aged man didn't hold back.

"Is this any of your business?"

Li Yichen looked at him.

"It's related."

The middle-aged man frowned slightly.

"Tell me the whole story clearly, this debt is clearly owed—I'll pay it off for you."

When Li Yichen said those words, he felt as if a string in his mind had been plucked.

Nine million four hundred and fifty thousand.

I didn't hesitate before saying it. I still have several hundred million in my account; nine million is just a drop in the bucket.

But the problem isn't about money.

Why should he pay it off for her?

My ex-girlfriend. We hadn't been in touch for five or six years. We just reunited, but we barely exchanged ten words.

On what grounds?

Because of the debt he didn't express on that rainy night years ago. Because of the changed phone card, the five or six years he disappeared, and the unexplained "Let's break up."

Over the years, she and her brother have been burdened with ten million yuan in debt, working odd jobs that pay only a few thousand yuan a month, and being chased into shopping malls and forced to sell their house.

And what was he doing?

Delivering takeout.

They were equally poor and just as miserable, but at least no one was putting a ten million debt on his head.

The middle-aged man stared at Li Yichen for three seconds.

The words that were about to come out took a different turn.

He pulled his arms back from his chest, took half a step forward, and extended his right hand.

"Young man, my surname is Zhao."

Li Yichen shook his hand briefly. The grip wasn't strong, but it was steady.

Uncle Zhao released his grip and took a half step back.

"Back then, the Liu family was in the trading business and cooperated with me for seven or eight years. Three years ago, their company's cash flow dried up, and it collapsed overnight. During the bankruptcy liquidation, they owed me a total of 23 million yuan. After the liquidation, I received a little over 10 million yuan."

He paused for a moment.

"There was still a debt of ten million yuan, and it was nowhere to be found. Later, when the old man of the Liu family passed away, Liu Qiang and Xiao Yu took over the debt, saying they would definitely pay it back. Over the past few years, the two of them have worked and paid back a total of 550,000 yuan."

Uncle Zhao took out a piece of paper that had been folded twice from the inside pocket of his jacket, unfolded it, and handed it over.

A4 paper. Printed. It lists the date, amount, and signature. The bottom line has a handwritten number—outstanding balance: 9,450,000 yuan.

Li Yichen took it and scanned it from top to bottom.

I remember every single repayment clearly. The largest one was 20,000 last March. The smallest one was 4,000 last November.

Four thousand yuan.

Li Yichen stared at the number for two seconds. Four thousand yuan. Liu Xiaoyu earns five or six thousand yuan a month. She takes out four thousand to pay off her debts, and the remaining money is barely enough to make ends meet in a big city like Shanghai.

He flipped the document over and glanced at Liu Xiaoyu.

"is that so?"

Liu Xiaoyu nodded.

She didn't say anything, but her eyes welled up with tears again.

Li Yichen took back the document and took out his phone.

Please provide your card number.

Uncle Zhao was stunned.

The young men behind him were also stunned and exchanged glances.

Uncle Zhao hesitated for two seconds.

Then he recited a string of numbers.

Li Yichen lowered his head and swiped his finger across the screen a few times. He opened the bank app, entered the card number, and entered the amount—9,450,000.

Password. Confirm.

Ding.

Transfer successful.

The whole process took less than half a minute.

He put away his phone and looked up at Uncle Zhao.

"Alright. You can leave now."

As he spoke, he tore the receipt in his hand in half. Two halves. Then he tore it again. Four pieces. The pieces of paper drifted through his fingers and landed on the gleaming marble floor of the mall.

A young man behind Uncle Zhao blushed and stretched out his finger.

"You fucking—"

Uncle Zhao stopped him.

With his arm across the young man's chest, he used considerable force, pushing the man back half a step.

Uncle Zhao glanced down at his phone.

On the screen, the ICBC payment notification lay quietly.

9,450,000.00 yuan.

He locked his phone and put it back in his pocket.

She looked up and glanced at Li Yichen again.

Without saying a word, he turned and led the group of people behind him toward the mall exit.

Quick-paced. Decisive.

After taking five or six steps, Uncle Zhao turned his head back. He wasn't looking at Li Yichen, but at Liu Xiaoyu.

The look in that glance was complex—a sense of relief mixed with a hint of inexplicable apology.

Then he turned back and never came back.

Liu Xiaoyu stood still.

My legs were trembling. Not the kind of trembling from fear, but the kind of trembling that comes from a string that has been stretched for too long suddenly being released, and then you can't hold on any longer.

She stared at Li Yichen with wide eyes, her lips trembling three times before she managed to squeeze out a complete sentence.

"Yichen...you just...gave the money?"

Li Yichen reached out and touched the top of her head.

He ran his fingertips through her hair and patted it gently twice.

"Yes, I gave it to them. They won't come looking for you again. You don't need to sell the house."

Liu Xiaoyu's chin twitched.

Tears welled up again. Not the silent kind from before, but the kind that welled up from my chest, with a sob in my voice.

She covered her mouth tightly with the back of her hand to suppress her voice.

His shoulders were shrugging.

It took her a while to put her hand down.

"That's nearly ten million... Where did you get that money...?"

Li Yichen didn't respond to that sentence.

He turned his head and glanced in the direction of the first floor of the mall—Xiao Yuqing should already be in the car.

"Walk."

He gently nudged Liu Xiaoyu's shoulder and gestured with his chin toward a coffee shop next to the atrium.

"Sit down and talk first."

Pushed along by him, Liu Xiaoyu stumbled after him, her hem of her work skirt brushing against her knees, the sound of her high heels clicking on the ground intermittently.

As the coffee shop door opened, the warm lighting and the aroma of freshly ground coffee beans wafted out.

Li Yichen sat down by the window and raised his hand towards the bar.

Two Americanos.

The staff member behind the bar responded.

Liu Xiaoyu sat opposite her, her hands resting on the table, her fingers intertwined, her knuckles red.

She stared at the wood grain on the table, her lips moved twice, and she looked up.

"Li Yichen, what exactly are you—"

Two cups of coffee were served.

The white porcelain cup rested on the table, making a soft sound.

The steam from the coffee rose and twisted into a transparent thread between the two people.

Li Yichen picked up the cup and took a sip. It was bitter.

He put down his cup, ran his fingers along the rim, and looked up at the pair of still reddened eyes opposite him.

"Xiaoyu, tell me something first."

Liu Xiaoyu's fingers stopped moving.

"Your dad—"

His voice was kept as low as it could be.

"When did you leave?"