Chapter Four: Preparations for Investment

The next day, Gu Zhi woke up early.

He sat quietly on the sofa, waiting for his parents to appear and make their decision.

To be honest, he was still a little anxious, deeply afraid that Gu Wenzhi and Lin Zhi would think he’d lost his mind.

He definitely didn’t want to be sent off to Yang Yongxin’s electroshock center…

If his parents were unwilling to give him the money, with his advance knowledge of the world’s trends, he still had many other ways to make money—it would just require more time and effort.

That would mean he’d have to adjust his original plan and would enter the entertainment industry later than he’d hoped.

So, he was understandably nervous and uneasy.

Being able to use the resources at hand to lay his own foundation was, of course, ideal.

Gu Zhi didn’t feel the least bit ashamed for making use of his parents’ money; he was confident that, in the future, he would repay them a hundredfold, a thousandfold.

If he didn’t make use of his parents’ support now, that would truly be foolish.

There was a saying that had long circulated in his country—that Western children were all fiercely independent, working part-time jobs to pay for their tuition and living expenses, never relying on their parents, while children at home were entirely dependent, needing their parents to take care of everything, and were inferior to their foreign counterparts.

Whether it was the generation born in the eighties, the nineties, or even the new millennium, all had once been labeled as “the lost generation” by society.

In his previous life, before studying abroad, Gu Zhi had believed this wholeheartedly, thinking himself somehow less than the foreign students.

It wasn’t until he went to America that he realized just how absurd and ignorant such brainwashing rhetoric was.

Didn’t foreign students move into college just like those at home, with their entire families carrying bags and boxes? Gu Zhi had even seen freshmen sobbing on their mothers’ shoulders at the school gate.

What’s more, tuition fees in the West were exorbitant—at least thirty thousand dollars a year in America, about two hundred thousand yuan, not including accommodation, meals, and all the other miscellaneous expenses.

In some schools, tuition increased yearly; the University of California, for instance, planned a five percent annual hike.

And that was just for public universities. Most of the top ten colleges in the US were private, and the fees were even higher.

Even for American middle-class families, a child’s annual tuition was a significant burden. To think a student could rely solely on part-time jobs to become completely self-sufficient was sheer wishful thinking.

Beyond that, many American universities cared less for students’ grades than whether they would become part of the elite.

In American thinking, the offspring of elites are more likely to become elites themselves. By the same token, the children of the poor are more likely to remain poor.

Therefore, as long as the parents were alumni or were willing to donate a sufficient sum to a college, their children could be admitted with ease.

This was an open and accepted rule in America—if you have money, you can leverage it; whereas at home, that would be blatant bribery, a violation of both law and ethics.

In short, parents in both America and his own country might differ in their ways, but none would simply neglect their children—when it came to providing money and support, neither side did less than the other.

The more he saw abroad, the more Gu Zhi felt that the cultural inferiority complex at home ran deep.

There were countless other laughable claims, like one article that said Japanese restaurants required dishes to be washed seven times, and a Chinese student who washed them only five times was fired on the spot.

Such an absurd story, and yet, when Gu Zhi returned home in his previous life, he’d seen it in an elementary school ethics textbook. Many children believed it, and even the teachers teaching the class accepted it as truth.

The more he thought about it, the more chilling it became!

A great nation, and yet its textbooks contained such mindless flattery of others—how could its people possibly be confident?

Seeing all this, Gu Zhi felt nothing but sadness and dread.

We had long since stood tall, and yet, in our minds, so many were still kneeling, licking the boots of a foreign land conjured up by fantasy.

This was also why, after his rebirth, he was determined to use culture and entertainment to turn his country into a great exporter of culture.

He waited in the living room for nearly half an hour before Gu Wenzhi and Lin Zhi finally got up.

The two of them hadn’t slept at all the night before, discussing every detail of what their son had said.

At times, Gu Wenzhi believed him and Lin Zhi did not; then the roles would reverse, and Lin Zhi would be convinced while Gu Wenzhi doubted.

Back and forth, in this cycle of affirmation and denial, they wrestled fiercely with their thoughts, ultimately choosing to trust their son.

“At worst, if the money’s lost, so be it. We built what we have from scratch—there’s nothing to fear!” Lin Zhi declared in the end.

With that resolute statement, the two of them came to stand before Gu Zhi.

“Dad, Mom, have you made your decision?” Gu Zhi stood up, hands clasped together, his nerves evident as he asked.

Gu Wenzhi gazed at him for a long ten seconds before finally nodding, slowly but firmly.

“Son, whether what you said yesterday is true or not, we choose to believe in you.”

He walked over and gave Gu Zhi’s shoulder a heavy pat, then added,

“But from now on, you must never, ever repeat those words to anyone. We’ll pretend that conversation never happened. Your mother and I will keep it secret and do our best to forget everything you told us.”

In their eyes, this might be their son’s great opportunity, but if handled carelessly, it could spell disaster—not just for Gu Zhi, but for the entire family.

Gu Zhi understood the peril of “a man’s wealth is his own downfall.” He nodded firmly to his parents.

“At present, the family has just over ninety million in assets. The company needs operating funds, and I’m planning to open another factory soon, so at most, I can give you seventy-five million,” Lin Zhi added.

“You must make good use of this money. It’s the result of more than a decade of hard work,” she said, a touch of emotion in her voice. Handing over the family’s hard-earned savings to her son was no easy thing.

“Don’t worry, Mom. I know what I’m doing. I’d never let our family’s money go to waste,” Gu Zhi replied, full of confidence.

This was a surefire investment—anyone could see that.

“Yesterday I mentioned I want to invest first in a businessman living in Hangzhou named Ma Yun. Mom, could you try to get in touch with Mr. Ma Yun over the next couple of days? Once you do, we’ll go together to Hangzhou and discuss investment with him.”

Lin Zhi was a renowned businesswoman in Shenzhen, with many wealthy friends and business partners, some of whom worked in Hangzhou. With her connections, finding Ma Yun wouldn’t be difficult.

Gu Zhi finished and then turned to his father.

“Dad, over the next few months, could you help me find a graduate from Shenzhen University named Ma Huateng? Once you find him, arrange a meeting for me. He’s the second person I want to invest in.”

Gu Wenzhi nodded. He was a computer science professor at Shenzhen University, and Ma Huateng was one of his former students, though he’d almost forgotten about him.

With their teacher-student relationship, and considering how limited communication was in 1999, finding Ma Huateng would be a simple matter.

Having listened to Gu Zhi’s instructions, his parents now trusted him even more.

If not for some extraordinary reason, how could an ordinary high school junior know of a businessman named Ma Yun in distant Hangzhou? Or know about Ma Huateng?

“It seems our son really is blessed by heaven,” they thought.

“That may be, but he’d better not neglect his studies. He should always keep a backup plan for himself,” Lin Zhi said as she chatted with Gu Wenzhi in the kitchen while making breakfast.

Both were steadfast atheists, but faced with their son’s extraordinary situation, they couldn’t help but say a few superstitious things.

At that moment, Gu Zhi’s voice came from the living room.

“Dad, Mom, I won’t be going to school for the time being. When you have time, please help me ask my teacher for an extended leave.”