The vice president clapped him on the shoulder. “Kid, your dad's dead. You can't hold on to this boat. You might as well sell it to me.”
Lin Yuan lowered his head, looking like a flustered young man from the countryside. “I... I'll think about it.”
Everyone laughed.
What could a poor kid with 300,000 yuan in debt, who couldn't even sell his fish, possibly do?
But nobody noticed that in the 0.3 seconds it took the young man with his head bowed to turn away, he had already read every secret written on the other man's face.
Hokkaido, 1970. A 36-year-old professor of criminal psychology transmigrates into the body of a dirt-poor fisherman.
No one knows what's inside the head of this seemingly honest, simple poor kid: microexpression reading, FBI behavioral analysis, game theory, and a forbidden art of manipulating people's hearts used by Eastern emperors two thousand years ago.
He isn't in a hurry to draw his blade.
He likes to let the others laugh first, gloat first, and lay all their cards on the table first.
Then he turns the tables with a single strike.
The vice president thinks victory is assured? Three sentences leave the old fox drenched in sweat.
Five-way kelp bidding war? He smiles and nods the whole time, then claims the entire field at the last second.
The yakuza come demanding protection money? He respectfully pours them tea and says a single sentence. They never come back.
From 300,000 yuan in debt, to making millions during the oil crisis, to dominating Tokyo's political and business circles...
Throughout the entire Showa era, no one ever truly saw through him.
Until one day, at a banquet for the powerful, he met a woman.
She smiled at him, her manners impeccable and her conversation flawless...
But for the first time, cold sweat broke out on his back.
Because there was nothing on her face he could read, not a single
