I Bet Ten Million on Germany to Win

Time was like a ceaselessly flowing river, washing away countless mornings and dusks in the blink of an eye.

Chen Zhi sat in front of the computer. The blinds were pulled tight, letting in only a few streams of dim sunlight.

Chen Zhi clicked rapidly on the screen.

The final transaction confirmation popped up.

Chen Zhi leaned back in his chair, picked up the ice-cold cola from the desk, and took a big gulp. The carbonated bubbles burst on the tip of his tongue, taking away a trace of the summer heat.

Ever since the crazy Bitcoin bull run of 2013, he had been offloading his holdings. The twenty thousand Bitcoins in his hands had been thrown into that fanatical market in batches.

Fifteen thousand coins.

What he got in return was fifteen million US dollars resting in his overseas accounts.

The remaining five thousand coins were his trump card for the future, or rather, a commemorative coin to mark the absurd drama of his rebirth.

"That's about enough."

Chen Zhi muttered to himself, his fingers unconsciously tapping on the desk.

Next came the main event.

The World Cup in Brazil.

This wasn't just a carnival for football fans; it was a meat grinder for capital.

Chen Zhi had no grand ambition to save the national football team; he just wanted to make money.

The pages of major betting websites were lined up in front of him.

Germany versus Brazil.

This was a night that would be relished by countless people in the future, and one that would send countless degenerate gamblers lining up to jump off rooftops.

7 to 1.

The odds were terrifyingly high, with some bookmakers offering horrifying figures of 500 or even 750 to 1.

Chen Zhi looked at the terrifying odds on the webpage.

Go all in?

No.

If he dared to smash all fifteen million dollars into this exact score, Interpol and various unknown forces would make him evaporate from the face of the earth the very next day.

This world had its own operating logic. A reincarnator could exploit bugs, but couldn't crash the server entirely.

He began to spread his bets.

Germany to win the championship—that was the safe baseline.

Germany to beat Brazil—that was the advanced play.

Then, across dozens of obscure overseas websites, using hundreds of accounts registered under fake identities, he scattered bets on the 7:1 scoreline.

The amount in each account wasn't large, a few thousand dollars here, tens of thousands there, blending unobtrusively into the billions of dollars flowing worldwide.

But gathered together, they formed a monstrous tidal wave.

That night, the screams at the Mineirao Stadium in Belo Horizonte pierced the heavens, and the tears of Brazilians flooded the Amazon rainforest.

Meanwhile, Chen Zhi's overseas accounts saw their numbers jump wildly after that crazy night.

Fifteen million turned into seven hundred and fifty million.

US dollars.

Looking at the dizzying string of zeros in his account, Chen Zhi yawned and closed the webpage.

"It's just alright."

He stretched, casually grabbed a Summer Vacation Homework workbook, flipped to the math section, and started drawing turtles on it.

The money was in place; next came spending it.

The internet landscape of 2014 was a time of fierce competition among warlords.

Following the wealth myths of Alibaba and Tencent, various internet companies sprang up like mushrooms after rain, all wanting a slice of this massive market.

But these giants were already well-established. Investing in them wouldn't yield the maximum return for Chen Zhi's capital.

While all the capital was fighting tooth and nail over the internet sector, among these companies, there was one rather inconspicuous internet enterprise.

Note Dance.

Right now, it was only relying on Everyday Headlines to conquer the market. Although its momentum was fierce, in the eyes of traditional internet giants, it was nothing more than a nouveau riche relying on algorithmic recommendations for low-brow news.

News software indeed didn't seem to have much of a future.

But only Chen Zhi knew what kind of behemoth this company would grow into in the future.

In June, Note Dance's Series C funding round was about to begin.

Sequoia Capital had a very keen sense of smell and was preparing to open its maw to swallow this piece of fat meat.

Chen Zhi glanced at the calendar.

This was troublesome.

It would take time for the football betting funds to return. Through layers of laundering and transfers, it would be at least mid-July before this money could truly be used.

And Zhang Yiming couldn't wait that long.

Chen Zhi spun a ballpoint pen rapidly between his fingertips.

He had to find a way to stall them.

Across the ocean, in the Cayman Islands.

An offshore investment firm named Goodnight Capital was quietly registered and established.

This was a shell company Chen Zhi had bought; besides money, it had absolutely nothing.

Through a headhunter, Chen Zhi offered a high salary to poach a professional Wall Street manager, David.

David had never seen such a strange boss in his entire life.

He never showed his face, only communicating through encrypted emails and voice-altered phone calls. His voice sounded like an old man whose vocal cords had been ravaged by thirty years of smoking and drinking.

"David, I need you to do something."

"At your command, Boss."

"Go contact Note Dance in China. Tell them we want to invest in their Series C."

"But Boss, Sequoia Capital has already pretty much finalized talks with them. The valuation is around five hundred million dollars."

"Then give them a price they can't refuse."

The voice on the other end of the phone was lazy yet arrogant.

"Tell Note Dance that I'll put up three hundred million dollars, and I only want 30% of the shares."

David nearly choked to death on his own saliva.

"Three... three hundred million? For only 30%? Boss, that's a one billion dollar valuation! The current Note Dance isn't worth that price at all! This premium is outrageous!"

"Moreover, relying on that news app of theirs doesn't have much of a future. With this kind of money, it would be better to cast a wide net among tech startups in Silicon Valley. At least one of them is bound to grow."

"Just do as I say."

"And..." The voice on the other end paused. "Tell them I won't participate in any company decisions, I don't want voting rights, only dividend rights. Besides money, I won't give anything, and I won't ask for anything."

David fell silent.

What was this?

Was this a literal boy of wealth scattering money? Or God descending to earth to save all living beings?

In the capital market, investors wished they could micromanage even the color of the founders' underwear. Where would you ever find an idiot who only gave money and didn't interfere?

"Boss, are you sure?"

"Go. Do as I say."

In May, Beijing was filled with flying willow catkins.

Inside the meeting room of ByteDance, the atmosphere was bizarre to the extreme.

Zhang Yiming looked at the letter of intent from Goodnight Capital in his hand. His brows furrowed tightly, relaxed, and then furrowed tightly again.

Sitting opposite him was the partner from Sequoia Capital, whose face was terrifyingly dark.

"A one billion valuation? And they won't participate in decision-making or management?"

The Sequoia partner slammed the document onto the table, sneering repeatedly. "Old Zhang, where did you find this shill? This act is way too fake! Who in the market doesn't know you desperately need funds to expand right now? With this kind of premium, who besides a lunatic could afford to pay?"

Zhang Yiming pushed up his glasses, his tone calm: "They've paid a five million dollar earnest money deposit."

The Sequoia partner froze.

Throwing away five million dollars just to hear it splash?

Was this lunatic serious?

"I don't believe they can cough up three hundred million in cash!" The Sequoia partner gritted his teeth. "Have you ever seen an idiot willing to spend three hundred million dollars to invest in a news app that can barely turn a profit, and not even participate in decision-making or management? Do you think foreign capital are all fools?"

"I don't know if they're fools or not," Zhang Yiming looked at the other party, "but if Sequoia can't match this valuation, it'll be hard for me to explain it to my team."

Of course, Sequoia couldn't match it.

In their actuarial models, although Toutiao's ceiling was high, it was absolutely not worth the current one billion dollars. Capital is greedy, but it is even more rational.

Not to mention a veteran capital firm like Sequoia.

Faced with "Goodnight Capital," which didn't play by the rules, Sequoia hesitated.

They decided to wait and see.

They bet that this sudden, unheard-of "Goodnight Capital" was just bluffing, betting that the money would never actually hit the account.

The negotiations reached a stalemate.

The financing, originally scheduled to be completed in June, was forcibly dragged out.

At home, Chen Zhi received an encrypted email from David.

[Boss, Sequoia has withdrawn from the negotiating table; they are demanding a re-evaluation. ByteDance is also very hesitant. They're worried we're scammers and have demanded that our funds arrive by July 15th, otherwise they will restart negotiations with Sequoia.]

Chen Zhi looked at the screen and blew a stray lock of hair off his forehead.

July 15th.

That was plenty of time.

The final exams arrived as scheduled.

Chen Zhi finished his paper in half an hour, then laid his head on the desk and slept soundly under the shocked gaze of the invigilator.

In this ivory tower called "school," no one knew what kind of stormy waves this perpetually sleepy-eyed elementary school student was stirring up on the other side of the ocean.

July.

The cicadas chirped themselves hoarse.

The World Cup came to an end, with the German tank crushing everything in its path.

Chen Zhi's capital pool finally completed its last round of laundering and aggregation.

Seven hundred and fifty million dollars, squeaky clean, lay in an offshore account.

He sent an email to David.

[Sign.]

Just one simple word.

David flew to Beijing with his team.

The signing ceremony was so low-key that it hardly seemed like a multi-hundred-million-dollar deal.

No media, no flowers, no champagne.

Just a few thick stacks of legal documents and the notification sound of a successful bank transfer.

The moment the three hundred million dollars actually hit ByteDance's account, the entire conference room fell silent.

Zhang Yiming stared at that number, speechless for a long time.

When the people at Sequoia Capital got the news, the coffee in their cups had long gone cold.

They cursed in anger.

Meanwhile, the mastermind behind this massive gamble was currently squatting in front of the convenience store at the entrance of his residential complex.

Chen Zhi was wearing baggy shorts and flip-flops, holding a fifty-cent popsicle in his hand, munching on it with relish.

"Crunch."

He bit off a piece of the popsicle.

The icy sweet water flowed down his throat, making him narrow his eyes in comfort.

Who could have imagined?

That future behemoth destined to dominate half of the global mobile internet traffic, the unicorn that would keep Tencent and Alibaba awake at night, now had 30% of its shares belonging to this little brat squatting by the roadside eating a popsicle.

This was the dimensional strike of a reincarnator.

No need for exquisite business layouts, no need for painstaking management; he only needed to stand on the shoulders of the future and drop a gold brick at the critical juncture.

"Chen Zhi!"

A crisp shout broke the afternoon tranquility.

Chen Zhi looked up.

Under the sunlight, Lin Wanwan, wearing a white dress and a high ponytail, was running over, panting.

Two years had passed. The little girl who used to follow him around had grown much taller, and her once childish face was gradually revealing the contours of a future superstar.

Xiaobai followed behind her, tongue hanging out, wagging its tail goofily at Chen Zhi.

"You're hiding here eating all by yourself again!"

Lin Wanwan ran up to him, hands on her hips, glaring at him angrily. "Auntie has been looking for you at home for ages! She said if you don't do your summer homework soon, she's going to smash your computer!"

Chen Zhi crunched up the rest of the popsicle in a few bites and clapped his hands to get rid of the stickiness.

"I'm going, I'm going."

He stood up, replying lazily.

The billions of capital and the business empire that had just been swirling in his mind were instantly shattered by his mom's warning to do his summer homework.

There was nothing he could do; when living under someone else's roof, you had to bow your head.

Heh, wait until dad's business money gets swindled next year, then yours truly will show up with the cash to save the family.

Let's see if you dare force me to do my homework then.

"Hurry up!"

Lin Wanwan reached out and grabbed his arm, dragging him back without leaving room for argument. "My mom made braised pork ribs today and told me to get you to eat at our house. If you're late, I'll let Xiaobai eat it all!"

"Woof!" Xiaobai barked at the perfect time, seeming to echo its owner's threat.

Chen Zhi stumbled a bit as she pulled him. Looking at the back of the girl's head shining in the sunlight, the corners of his mouth twitched imperceptibly.

The shadows of the two people and the dog were stretched long by the setting sun, overlapping together.

Chen Zhi let her drag him along, walking slowly.

Without stopping his steps, Chen Zhi flicked his fingers that were holding the popsicle stick.

The bare wooden stick traced a parabola in the air and landed precisely into the roadside trash can.

"Thump."

A soft sound.

Lin Wanwan turned her head and gave him a puzzled look. "What are you smiling at?"

"Nothing."

Chen Zhi stuffed his hands into his pockets, his tone flat.

"I just feel that this summer has only just begun."