Drifting Slowly with the Tide

In the summer of 2000, as the internet bubble was just beginning to inflate, twenty-year-old computer technician Chen Ye carried his first computer case through Lanzhou Computer City. The white scar on his right index finger was still fresh, and his entire fortune of 1,960 yuan was hidden beneath the mattress in his rented room.

Starting in the dial-up era, he navigated refurbished network-card scams, took over Blue Tide Internet Cafe, founded the Lanzhou Gossip information site, rejected acquisition offers from capital hunter Lin Zhou, and stood by the old street's shopkeepers through the group-buying wars. Every move was calculated, every step firmly taken.

During the 2015 stock market crash, his mentor, Old Gu, smashed his enamel mug in the trading hall and used the words “Wealth doesn't come through a door opened in haste” to steer him away from the temptation to borrow and invest on margin. In the winter of 2024, he turned down a highly leveraged real estate acquisition promising a 46% annual return. Three days and two nights held hostage taught him what “slow” truly meant.

Over two decades, he and his fated rival Lin Zhou went from undermining each other to becoming partners. A dispute over a 2.5-yuan bank fee with teller Su Wan grew into a lifelong tea date at Wanglan Teahouse. And though he and his childhood friend Zhao Lei bickered constantly, they never parted ways.

On the eighth day of the twelfth lunar month in 2038, fifty-eight-year-old Chen Ye sits at an Eight Immortals table by the river at Wanglan Teahouse, watching the terminal's red and green lights reflect on the water. Old Gu's enamel mug is still there. So is Su Wan's metal wristwatch. And the fifty-cent coin, his token of love at twenty, rests inside the glass display case he built with his own hands.

The river is in no hurry. It is here every day, watching boats come and go, watching people meet and part.