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

"Awesome."

As those two words were forced out of his throat, Li Yichen's forehead was already pressed against the floor-to-ceiling window. The cold glass startled him, but he didn't pay attention.

Fifty-eighth floor. Below him lay a world of living people—a sea of ​​lights swallowed the elevated highway, and the traffic flowed like burning veins, red and white, all people rushing for their lives. The silver futures price chart for the next month in his mind constantly stimulated his nerves.

What's this called?

It's like a windfall, the kind that hits you right on the head.

But the problem is—if the pie falls on him, what will he use to catch it?

He mentally reviewed the system panel again. Silver was currently priced at 120; it had plummeted to 70 within half a month, bounced back to 90, and then dipped to 70 again. Three turning points, three waves of price movement. With leverage, a principal of a few billion could be turned into tens of billions.

Numbers are numbers. Being able to calculate clearly and being able to do it clearly are worlds apart.

How do I open a futures account? What's the margin requirement? What's the procedure for short selling? Is settlement physical or cash? He hadn't even touched any of these things. In four years of university, he hadn't even opened a stock account—or rather, he had no money to deposit.

He took two steps back and paced back and forth on the carpet.

From the French windows to the bedside. From the bedside to the French windows. I walked back and forth three times, my steps didn't falter, and my mind became clear.

He needs someone.

He wasn't looking for the kind of financial bloggers you can easily find online, nor the kind of financial advisors who call you from brokerage firms. He wanted people who had actually been through the wringer in the futures market—people who had opened accounts, bet real money, and survived the market's ups and downs.

I scrolled through my contacts.

Zhang Guodong? He's in the real estate business, all he thinks about is floor area ratio. If a futures contract gets into his hands, he'll probably just flip it over like a piece of paper and kill it.

Zhou Lan? A ride-hailing driver, completely unrelated—kill him.

Zhang San from Jingheng Law Firm? I've only known him for a couple of days. Even if I knew people in the financial industry, lawyers and traders are completely different species—that's a no-go.

I tossed my phone onto the bed and collapsed onto it. The bright white ceiling light pressed down on me, blindingly so.

After thinking for ten minutes, a person came to mind.

It wasn't someone he knew. It was someone Xiao Yuqing might know.

The thought popped into my head, and my fingers instinctively reached for my phone. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw the top right corner of the screen—1:17 AM.

The finger retracted again.

I'm still angry. If I call her at this hour, she either won't answer, or if she does, she'll just coldly hang up. Either way, things will fall through.

Never mind, I'll talk about it tomorrow. I can't sleep anyway.

The three turning points in the silver hue swirled in my mind all night, until they appeared as gray as the sky outside the window.

Just after seven o'clock, he was already sitting on the edge of the bed. He washed his face, brushed his teeth, and looked in the mirror—oh, two dark circles under his eyes, like he had put on smoky makeup.

dial.

It rang a few times, then I answered.

There was no sound from the other end. A thin silence hung in the air, carrying the dullness of someone just waking up.

"Yuqing".

Silence. Two seconds.

"Get to the point."

Four words. Neither hot nor cold, stuck on a perfectly precise line—no forgiveness, but not dead either. There's a chance.

Li Yichen mentally pushed the incident at the coffee shop last night to the back of his mind and spoke decisively.

"Do you know anyone who studied finance? Someone in Shanghai who works in this field, doing trading?"

The person on the other end did pause for a moment, about four or five seconds.

"Why are you looking for someone who studies finance?"

"I have a business deal that needs a professional to handle. We can discuss the details when we meet."

Xiao Yuqing didn't press further. She thought for a moment, and when she spoke again, her voice was clearer.

"There was a senior student named Shen Ruolan. She was two years ahead of me and majored in financial engineering. She won the gold medal in the National Financial Modeling Contest in college and then joined a financial company in Shanghai, specializing in futures and derivatives."

Futures and derivatives.

When those six words hit him, Li Yichen clenched his teeth. He forced back the urge that was rising in his throat.

"Are you still in contact?"

We exchange messages during holidays and festivals; our relationship remains intact.

"Help me make an appointment, today or tomorrow is fine. Let's go out for a meal and talk face to face."

"...I'll give it a try."

It's over.

Li Yichen put his phone on the table, leaned back in his chair, and let out a long sigh.

From now until the first drop in silver prices, it will be less than three days.

Before the window closes completely, he needs to find someone, open an account, and deposit the money to complete the first wave of position building. Three steps, and he can't miss any of them.

Three days is a tight schedule.

But that's enough—as long as Shen Ruolan is really the kind of person Xiao Yuqing described.

He looked down and pulled up the chart, mentally reviewing it again. The timing of each inflection point was accurate to the day, and the price to the single digit. This level of information would make any futures trader jump for joy.

The problem is that he can't just lay the picture out directly.

"Given to me by the system?"

If he really dared to say that, Shen Ruolan could call an ambulance for him on the spot, and maybe even call the police.

So we need to come up with an explanation. A reason that sounds reasonable and will make the professionals willing to cooperate.

I went through several options in my mind.

"Insider information"—too risky. Once you're associated with "insider trading," it's impossible to clear your name.

"Fundamental analysis"—when someone who used to deliver food says this, the persuasiveness is practically zero.

"Measured by a quantitative model"—well, that might hold some weight. Quantitative strategies are inherently black boxes; outsiders can't really explain them clearly, but it sounds professional enough.

In this direction, package the trend chart as "quantitative model output" and have Shen Ruolan help him execute it.

The approach has worked.

The phone screen lit up.

Xiao Yuqing —

"My senior said she's free tonight. Where should we meet?"

Li Yichen stared at those four words for two seconds.

tonight.

He also had plans to meet Liu Xiaoyu tonight. Six o'clock, at the back entrance of the mall, he had arranged to pick her up for dinner.

Two things had collided. He sat up straight in his chair, quickly going over the timeline in his mind: Liu Xiaoyu got off work at six, ate dinner around eight, that's about right. As for Shen Ruolan—Xiao Yuqing only said "I'm free tonight," without setting a specific time. That makes things easier.

He picked up his phone and replied to a message:

"8:30. I'll decide on the location, I'll send it to you."

The message was sent, and the phone was put down. The glass of water on the table was now ice-cold; it was gulped down in one go, chilling to the bone.

Two things, one night. The time is barely manageable, but I have to be on time.

He stood up and walked back to the floor-to-ceiling window. Shanghai was much quieter during the day than at night; the grey-blue sky weighed down the buildings, and the Huangpu River cut across the horizon in the distance, gleaming with a dull, indistinct light. The cars below were still climbing, section by section, like ants carrying food.

The system panel was still flashing in my mind. The date stamp of the first turning point in silver's price movement was clearly marked, and it was just around the corner.

Three days.

He put his hands in his pockets, looked down at the traffic below for a moment, and exhaled.

My phone vibrated again.

Xiao Yuqing.

Just two words—

"OK."

Li Yichen stared at the screen, his thumb hovering over those two words, his lips twitching slightly, but he didn't press it.