On a ThinkPad that had been in service for over 15 years, the code for “Wind Rudder No. 1” finally ran successfully. Three months of back-testing data showed considerable profitability.
Hope had never felt so real. In a life spent stumbling through the better part of my years, all rehearsals had taken place within textbooks written by teachers. No matter how many times I verified the calculations, they were always other people’s stories, other people’s scenarios.
This time, the program piled high on mathematical formulas finally stood on a bedrock of data, avoiding the swamp of losses. Although, in the live combat of the market, I had lost the ninety thousand yuan my father had saved up over decades. Ultimately, I must thank my stingy father; his lifetime of frugality forged my strongest risk management strategy.
Father worked as a truck driver for a transport company all his life. Whether on himself or his family, he never spent a penny carelessly. The bed frames, reclining chairs, mops, and clothes poles in our home were all made by him using scraps picked up from his workplace.
It was precisely this habit of constraining one’s own hands and feet that forced me, unarmed and empty-handed, to survive in the blood-soaked storms of the market. This is the advantage of “speculation born of poverty.”
Those who practice strict frugality basically belong to the class of people who do not master the rules of wealth acquisition. They may not lack money, but they are passive recipients of wealth. They possess no control over the process of creating wealth. “Saving” is the only way they can proactively control their fortune.
For some, doing one job might mean doing it for a lifetime.
When I was very young, I used to go to the alley entrance to watch the old men making dragon lanterns and spinning tops (zhuan batuo). Later, the alley was demolished, and they all disappeared. They certainly didn’t go elsewhere to find different jobs. They must have continued their craft until they were old, until they could move no longer, until they finally passed away.
Recently, I have felt a trembling fear about the necessity of doing something entirely new. It isn’t the helplessness of being unable to cope, but a fear rising from the bottom of my heart—a visceral dread of doing something I have never done before.
In a very old photo of Guishan (Tortoise Hill) in Hanyang—back when it was still called Dahongshan—the slopes were bare, and a solitary temple stood on the summit, particularly conspicuous. In the Jiangnan region of old times, vegetation was the primary energy source for life; it sprouted every spring, seemingly inexhaustible. However, with population growth and the diversification of energy consumption, the demand for energy grew geometrically. Following the footsteps of the era, coal, oil, and nuclear energy arrived in succession.
The new energy revolution currently underway relies on neither coal nor oil. Electricity provided by various renewable methods is frantically fighting for market share. The price of energy is becoming cheaper and cheaper.
All forms of energy must be converted into electricity and supplied to consumers via the power grid. Currently, the biggest constraint on power supply is the aging basic grid. So, is it possible for the usage of electricity to decouple from the grid? Just like buying coal or gasoline in the past, the process of using energy wouldn’t require the support of a supply network.
If solar energy powers the batteries of electric vehicles through energy storage systems, the use of EVs could be freed from the limitations of the grid.
In principle, it should be possible. However, in extremely specialized fields, the “in principle” approach—correct but useless—is rarely adopted.
If you go to a gas station, the attendant asks, “Which grade of gasoline would you like?” “In principle, I should add 95. But to save a little money, 92 is also fine.” If such a question were posed in an F1 paddock, putting E10 fuel in a race car would leave no room for negotiation.
I thought about recommending the newly created futures index to others. But, sifting through this stale circle of mine, I didn’t know who I could tell. Everyone is engaged in their own trading in the way they know best, a bit like adults playing video games. The “aunties” (retail investors) firmly believe they have a more flexible stance, convinced they can earn more by jumping in and out of the market.
Decision-making used to be the responsibility of leaders or those in higher positions. Nowadays, more and more decisions rely on massive, complex computational systems. The program’s startup, its running parameters, and its normal exit are all automatically generated by the system. Of course, the highest authority—the “Stop” command—still needs to be executed by a human with decision-making power.
This will be a gradual process. The permissions possessed by programs will become higher and higher, while the control individuals have over these permissions will become narrower and narrower. In this way, the world is already sliding down the path of “letting itself go.”
After the automated trading system started up, my hands, usually tapping the keyboard, suddenly found themselves with nothing to do. On a social app where one swipes every three seconds, everyone is seeking a simple way to get rich quick. In a change of thought, perhaps I could kill time by flipping through a book.
Reality is as boring as history is inevitably dull.
Confucius wrote the Spring and Autumn Annals, and Liu Xiang named the Strategies of the Warring States. History was thus defined between the “Spring and Autumn” and the “Warring States.” Peace and development bathe in the Spring and Autumn; force and plunder define the Warring States. From ancient times to the present, the oscillating world has never changed.
The coming year, after Xiaohan (Minor Cold).
One noon, Lin Song thought to send a WeChat message to Guoxiang: “Guoxiang, is your health recovering any better?”
By evening, just as the chaotic news broadcast was ending, he received a reply: “Hello. My husband departed for the Pure Land on October 30, 2025. Thank you for your concern.”
“Take care.” “Thank you.”
Guoxiang, he was a good man.
Snow fell last night. With such a Dahan (Major Cold), the year is now complete.