The next morning, Zhang Wei awoke with a single thought in his mind:
"I need money. Fast."
Not just to survive—but to stake his place in history.
He washed his face with freezing cold water, put on a secondhand hoodie that smelled vaguely like mothballs, and stuffed a notepad into his pocket. The notebook was his brain now. Every dumb idea, every possible hustle, every memory from the future—it all went in there.
He stepped into the street with the swagger of a man who had nothing to lose and a billion-dollar plan in his pocket.
💼 The Business of B.S.
Zhang Wei's first idea was ridiculous. Which meant it was probably perfect.
He walked into a nearby university campus with confidence and zero shame. After all, he looked like a student—thanks to his time-jump host body—and he had something valuable: knowledge from 15 years into the future.
So he sat down at a table near the canteen, opened his notebook to a clean page, and scribbled:
"💥 Accurate Future Predictions!
USD 1 = 1 Question
No refunds, no nonsense.
Ask anything—stocks, celebrities, scandals."
Then, using an old marker pen, he taped the sign to the front of the table.
And waited.
Ten minutes later, a curious guy with bleached hair and flip-flops approached.
"Bro… is this a joke?"
Zhang Wei smiled. "Try me."
The guy handed over a coin. "Okay. Who's gonna win the World Cup next year?"
Zhang Wei didn't even blink. "Spain."
"…Spain? You sure?"
"Bet your house on it."
"Damn. Okay." He dropped another coin. "Who's gonna be famous? Like, super famous?"
Zhang Wei leaned in. "A kid named Justin Bieber. Looks like a 12-year-old. Sounds like one too. The world goes crazy."
The guy blinked. "That sounds fake."
"Come back in a year."
By noon, Zhang Wei had earned USD 14.50, a tuna sandwich, and the admiration of at least three students who thought he was some kind of modern-day prophet.
He laughed all the way to the cyber café.
💻 Mining Round Two
This time, Zhang Wei didn't make the same mistake.
Instead of using the café's machines, he sweet-talked the owner—a bored auntie with too many cats—into letting him rent one dusty PC for 10 hours straight. Cash upfront.
He nodded. "I'm writing my thesis."
She squinted at him suspiciously. "You don't look smart."
"I get that a lot."
Once she walked away, he plugged in the miner, adjusted the settings, and whispered to the screen:
"Let's make magic, baby."
The computer buzzed like an old fridge. The fan screamed in protest.
Hashing…Reward block: 50 BTC expected.
Zhang Wei sat back, hands behind his head, grinning like a lunatic.
If no one unplugged the machine…If nothing exploded…
By midnight, he'd be a crypto millionaire.
Sort of.
🚨 The Girl Who Laughed First
But just when things were going too smoothly, life—as always—delivered a curveball.
As he walked out of the café for a break, sandwich in hand, he bumped straight into her.
Long black hair. Clean blazer. Sharp eyes. She looked expensive—and irritated.
"Watch it!" she snapped, brushing crumbs off her shirt.
"Sorry! My sandwich has no spatial awareness."
She raised an eyebrow. "Are you… one of those weirdos from the forum? Selling lottery numbers?"
"Hey," Zhang Wei said, mock-offended. "I only sell truth. And maybe a few time-travel jokes on weekends."
She gave him a look. The kind rich girls give poor guys who try to act smart.
Then she said, "You seriously believe that 'virtual coin' nonsense? Bitcoin? It sounds like something my grandma would get scammed by."
Zhang Wei smiled.
The kind of smile that future billionaires give to the clueless.
"I believe in a lot of nonsense," he said. "And one day, you might wish you did too."
She rolled her eyes. "You're either a genius… or completely insane."
"Hopefully both," he winked.
She walked away, heels clicking like a countdown clock. He watched her go.
Name: Not yet known.Status: Clearly thinks I'm an idiot.Future role: To be determined.
Back in the cyber café, the mining app still ran.
Zhang Wei sat back, legs crossed, arms folded, and whispered:
"Don't worry, mystery girl. One day, I'll be rich enough to buy this whole street."
He paused.
"…Or at least a new rice cooker."