At four o'clock in the morning, before the last row of data was saved, he collapsed on the keyboard. When he opened his eyes again, he saw that it was a dilapidated accounting room in the 13th year of Kaiyuan of the Tang Dynasty.
On the pillow was my mother's eyes swollen from crying, and on the table was an IOU worth three thousand dollars. Peonies were blooming all over the city, but he was impoverished. There is no system, no golden finger, only a mind that has settled accounts for transnational capital, and an unspeakable secret: Thirty years later, Yuyang Gungu will crush this splendid age.
Double-entry bookkeeping uncovered moths, tea-frying technology broke the market, the bank network spread along the Silk Road, and the reform of flying money knocked on the door of the emperor's palace. In ten years, he went from a debt-ridden boy in the market to the number one businessman in the Tang Dynasty.
But the chessboard is getting bigger and bigger - Li Linfu wants him to make a knife, An Lushan wants him to make a scale, and every pair of eyes in the court is weighing his weight. And the more he changed, the faster his prophetic power faded. The butterfly flutters its wings too many times, and the future is already unrecognizable.
In the year when the cavalry went south, the city of Chang'an was destroyed, and half of the country was illuminated by fire. He finally understood that what he tried his best to protect was never the ledgers of an empire - but the body temperature of his wife in the sweet-scented osmanthus sachet, the never-extinguished light in Jishi Hall, and the extra cat under the eaves of Yanyufang every spring.
In the previous life, the fortunes of thousands of families were calculated, but in this life, what we have to calculate is the fortune of a country and the joys and sorrows of half a lifetime.
