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

The next morning at 9:40, in the top-floor conference room of Future Technology headquarters.

Four chairs, four people, and no one touched the cup of tea on the table.

Old Chen, the branch manager of ICBC's Shanghai branch, sat in the seat closest to the door and raised his hand to check his watch for the third time. To his left was Branch Manager Sun of CCB, who was tapping his fingers on the edge of the table, then stopped after a couple of taps, realizing it was inappropriate.

The youngest branch manager at the Bank of China, 46-year-old Zhao, held his briefcase on his lap like a recent graduate waiting for a job interview.

"Old Chen," Bank Manager Sun said in a low voice, "what were President Ji's exact words on the phone yesterday?"

"Just one sentence." Old Chen pulled down his sleeve a little. "Tomorrow morning at ten o'clock, have a few of us come to Future Technology Company."

"Nothing else?"

"That's all. I asked what it was about, and she said we'd talk about it when we meet."

The Agricultural Bank's president, Mr. Zhou, chuckled. He was the oldest, with half his hair white, but he was also the most composed: "What's the rush? Future Technology has been scouring the global mining market this past week, opening over seven billion US dollars in letters of credit through us alone. Either she wants to switch channels, or she thinks the fees are too high."

"Why are you asking all four of us to come along to change channels?" President Zhao hugged his bag even tighter. "President Zhou, I looked through their public statements last night. They just transferred 310 billion from private accounts to public accounts last week. I don't understand this operation."

"If you don't understand it, don't bother reading it," Old Chen said. "People with lots of money don't need us to understand what they're doing."

The door opened.

When Ji Yanran entered, she was carrying only a thin brown paper bag. Her high heels tapped seven times on the wooden floor as she walked to the head of the table. She didn't sit down.

The four bank managers stood up at the same time.

"Sit down." Ji Yanran raised her hand and took out four documents from the paper bag, pushing them one by one. She pushed them lightly, and the corners of the papers made a soft sound as they slid across the table.

Old Chen looked down and his eyebrows twitched. The contract was in the correct format, with all the terms, but the amount, interest rate, and term fields were all empty.

"Four people." Ji Yanran rested her hands on the edge of the table. "I don't have much time, so I'll cut to the chase. Future Technology needs a loan."

"Loan is easy to arrange." Bank Manager Sun moved the contract forward. "President Ji, you give me a figure, and I'll..."

One trillion.

President Sun's hand stopped on the contract.

No one spoke in the meeting room. The sound of the air conditioner vents could be heard clearly. Old Chen's hand, holding a teacup, froze in mid-air, the bottom of the cup hovering two centimeters above the saucer. Finally, he slowly put it down, making a clinking sound.

"Mr. Ji, Mr. Ji." Old Chen pulled out a handkerchief and pressed it to his forehead, then didn't dare remove it. "You...you're joking with us, aren't you?"

"Do I look like someone who has time to joke around?"

"But this... one trillion RMB!" Old Chen smiled wryly. "That's almost the annual GDP of a small country. Do you know how much new loans our four branches in Shanghai issued last year? Less than 600 billion."

"I know," Ji Yanran nodded, "that's why I invited all four of you."

President Zhao took his briefcase off his lap and placed it on the table: "President Ji, please forgive my bluntness. A credit line of this size isn't something a branch can decide on its own; it needs to be reported to head office, and then to the higher-level regulatory body for filing. Procedurally—"

"You can handle the process internally," Ji Yanran interrupted him. "I only have one question: can the four of you pool together this money? To borrow or not to borrow?"

President Zhou finally spoke. He took off his glasses, wiped them with a velvet cloth, and moved so slowly it was unsettling.

"Mr. Ji," he put his glasses back on his nose, "it's too early to talk about whether or not to lend money. The amount is so large, and the purpose field is left blank, so we can't report it to higher authorities. It's not that we're trying to hold you back; it's a strict rule."

"Trade secrets".

"That's troublesome." President Zhou placed his hands on the table. "Even if we don't specify the purpose, the collateral will need to be increased. And I have an idea—exclusive fund settlement rights for Raytheon Battery. If your company is willing to transfer the funds to our bank, we can perhaps discuss the procedural difficulties."

Old Chen's eyelid twitched.

Settlement rights. The entire Raytheon battery industry chain generates hundreds of billions of yuan in revenue annually; whoever secures this rights will be the bank's biggest contributor this year. President Zhou's move is aimed at using this loan to grab the most lucrative piece of the pie first.

Ji Yanran wasn't annoyed after hearing this. She even smiled.

"You think it's too much trouble?"

She took her phone out of her pocket, swiped her thumb across the screen to open her contacts, and spoke in a voice that was neither too loud nor too soft, making sure that every word was clearly audible to the four people present.

"Sealing the Moon".

"President Ji?"

"Help me contact the Asia-Pacific presidents of Citibank, Standard Chartered, and JPMorgan Chase," Ji Yanran said, looking at President Zhou. "Just tell them that Future Technology has a trillion-dollar financing deal to discuss, with lenient terms. See if foreign banks have the guts to take it on."

"No, no, no!"

The chair was knocked backward, and Old Chen was already halfway up his body. The handkerchief fell from his hand to the ground, but he didn't bother to pick it up.

"Please show mercy, Mr. Ji!"

President Sun grabbed the contract and said, "President Ji, President Zhou didn't mean that! He just mentioned it casually, just casually!"

President Zhao stood up faster than anyone else, his briefcase falling onto the chair: "Foreign investment money has high costs, many restrictions, and a whole host of additional terms. President Ji, please don't—"

Bank Manager Zhou's face had turned bright red. His little scheme from just now had become a noose around his neck.

All four of them knew the same thing.

What is future technology now? Thor batteries are the only ones of their kind globally, their two-nanometer photonic chip is unique in the world, and their security robots cost ten million each with long waiting lists. This company's annual profits can exceed one trillion.

A trillion-dollar loan sounds terrifying. But let's look at it another way—with the current cash flow, the profits from photonic chip manufacturing could easily pay it off, and there would still be some left over.

This is a super deal that fell from the sky, a sure-fire way to make money. If these four people had pushed this deal to a foreign investor, the head office would have cracked them to pieces with a phone call tomorrow.

Old Chen picked up the handkerchief from the ground and slammed it on the table.

"We'll lend it to you!"

His voice was so loud it startled him, and he quickly lowered it: "President Ji, the four-party syndicate, each with 250 billion. Risk sharing and quota sharing—this structure is the easiest to get approved by the regulators. Interest will be charged at the standard rate, not a penny more. I'll submit the special approval process to head office this afternoon!"

"ICBC is the first to sign!"

"China Construction Bank, follow suit." President Sun unscrewed the cap of his pen. "President Ji, please give me a list of the collateral. We're not picky."

"The Bank of China has no problem." President Zhao sat down and then stood up again. "I will give you an answer before 3 p.m. this afternoon."

President Zhou patted the table twice, then took off his glasses again: "President Ji, I retract my statement about the settlement rights. The Agricultural Bank will proceed with the 250 billion yuan, under the same conditions."

Ji Yanran watched as these four people, who usually needed to be booked a month in advance and had to wait through three secretaries to meet, were now crammed around a table, vying to put their fingerprints on the contract. The breath she had been holding in finally eased.

She placed her phone face down on the table.

"You can set the interest rate yourselves," she said. "I won't haggle over how much higher it goes. Future Technology won't skimp on interest. I just want one thing—speed."

"I understand, I understand."

"I need to see the money in my account before noon tomorrow." Ji Yanran emphasized the last sentence, "Not a day more."

Old Chen has already started making phone calls.

At 11:51 a.m. the next day, Ji Yanran sat in her office, watching the string of numbers on the screen jump forward.

One, zero, zero, zero, zero, one hundred million.

She counted the zeros three times.

Then she became a shopping machine.

Ore orders flowed out of her like tap water. Long-term contracts for tungsten concentrate from Australia, leftover high-purity rhenium from Chile, and she bought out three years' worth of inventory from three small mine owners in Africa in one go.

The tarpaulins at the open-air storage yards in Qingpu were insufficient, so two more plots of land had to be rented. The volume of top-grade rare ore increased from several thousand tons to tens of thousands of tons, while ordinary ore was measured in hundreds of thousands of tons. Heavy trucks were continuously pumping ore into the newly built storage area day and night.

The logistics dispatch manager called her, and the first thing he said was, "Ms. Ji, we don't have enough trucks. I've booked all the heavy trucks in Shanghai, and it's still not enough."

"Then let's go to the neighboring province to get it."

On the banks of the Huangpu River, the fishing rod on the flood control wall remained unmoved all day.

Li Yichen sat on a small stool, his eyes half-closed, his mind a cacophony louder than the traffic on the Bund.

[Ding! You have spent 200 billion, your wealth level has increased by 20, your technology points by 20, and your wealth gift pack by 20.]

[Ding! You have spent 300 billion, your wealth level has increased by 30, your technology points by 30, and your wealth gift pack by 30.]

[Ding! 150 billion spent...]

The sounds piled up one after another, like someone counting money in his head, counting fast and densely. The level numbers on the panel scrolled upwards, until he couldn't even be bothered to look at them anymore.

The last time it was this loud was the week Ji Yanran demolished the logistics park; back then, it was a 10 billion yuan announcement. Now it's jumping to 100 billion yuan.

A golden light spread out from the center of the panel.

Wealth Level: 200

[Current Technology Points: 165]

[Unopened Wealth Gift Pack: 165]

Li Yichen opened his eyes.

The old man next to him, who had been fishing all afternoon, was reeling in his line. He glanced back at him and said, "Young man, you haven't even had a bite of fish all day, what are you laughing at?"

"Think of something happy."

"Having fun fishing?"

"More fun than fishing."

The old man shook his head and left.

Li Yichen tapped his fingers on his knee twice, clearly having made his decision.

165 points. Planetary-level shields 500, antimatter main guns 1200, star destroyers 1500.

This level of technology is far from adequate. So far it's almost comical.

However, there's still some hope in the 165 wealth gift packages; who knows, maybe one of them will contain some incredible technology.