Xie Chuan lived once and died once.
In my previous life, I re-study for two years and passed the computer science test. I wrote code in an outsourcing company for 17 years and was laid off at the age of 41. The mortgage payment of 7,500, the car loan of 3,200, the children's tuition fees and the elderly's medicine expenses-these figures pressed him into the soil inch by inch, and finally died in front of the computer in the rental house.
Open your eyes again, it's the summer of 2007. The college entrance examination has just ended, and my score is still only enough for two books. My father is still a worker in the fertilizer factory who will be laid off at any time, and my mother's fingers are still covered with tape from odd jobs. The cicadas were chirping like crazy, and the Internet cafe was full of people playing "Zhengtu" and "Legend".
Everyone asked him to read it again, saying it was the only way. But he had seen the end of that road.
Starting from game scripts in the corner of Internet cafes, to tools that help e-commerce sellers put products on shelves in batches, and then to competing head-on with capital, it took him twenty years to move from a rental house in Jiangxia to the poker table. On this road, there are brothers who crawled out of the mud with him, an old section chief who opened a door for him when he was in the most difficult time, and a capital giant who almost swallowed his bones.
And the futures he holds in his mind—every wave of the Internet, every node where giants rise and fall—are his biggest trump cards. But playing the cards will change the game, and history will no longer be the same history from the moment the first card lands.
This is not a rebirth story. This is a story in which it took an ordinary person two lifetimes to learn how to stand firm in the torrent.
The river flows every year, some people are washed away and some people go ashore. Xie Chuan just didn't want to be washed away a second time.
