Of course, Guan Yao had naturally not forgotten what mattered most to her right now.
Making money!
Without money, nothing else matters.
In fact, while having dinner with Meng Fanyu today, she had already mapped out her very first course of action.
She opened her large wardrobe and took out a battered wooden box.
This was Guan Yao's piggy bank.
She actually liked those little pink ceramic pig-shaped piggy banks, but given her tight finances, she couldn't bring herself to spend money on such things.
Besides, the mere thought of having to smash such an expensive jar when it came time to withdraw the money completely killed any desire she had to buy one.
Anyone reading this can surely understand Guan Yao's background.
Born in an obscure little county in Zhili Province, the pace of life here was very slow.
From the very beginning, her family was like a small boat tossing in a storm, in constant danger of being swallowed up.
When she was very young, Guan Yao's mother, unable to bear the family's poverty and her husband's indifference, resolutely remarried.
Little Guan Yao could only shed silent tears at her mother's departing back, powerless to make her stay.
And soon after her mother left, her father also took a new wife. In this new household, Guan Yao became a superfluous presence.
Her stepmother treated her coldly, and her father, whether in his new marriage or his old life, had never cared about her feelings.
In such a depressing family environment, Guan Yao learned at an early age to read people's expressions and mood, but even so, she could never feel the warmth of a home.
Finally, in middle school, the accumulated grievances and helplessness led Guan Yao to make a decision—to leave this house that made her feel suffocated.
Keeping it a secret from her family, she quietly packed a simple bag, took the two hundred yuan she had saved up from her allowance, and resolutely walked out the front door one early morning.
From then on, she began a difficult life of working while going to school.
What chilled her heart even more was that neither of her parents ever looked for her.
Though she later ran into countless acquaintances and was certain her parents knew where she lived, they never once showed up.
Every day after school, while other students could easily go home to enjoy their parents' affection, Guan Yao had to hurry over to help out at a nearby food stall.
She washed dishes, wiped tables, and cleared trash, busy beyond measure.
The owner of the food stall was a kind middle-aged woman. Seeing how sensible Guan Yao was at such a young age, she would occasionally give her a little extra pay.
Unfortunately, when Guan Yao was in her second year of high school, that poor woman died in a car accident.
From then on, Guan Yao lost the very last remnant of warmth left in this world.
After the kind woman passed away, Guan Yao began tutoring lower-grade students on weekends.
She prepared her lessons conscientiously and explained things with patience. Although the pay wasn't much, it was enough to barely keep her afloat.
And so, through her own efforts, she rented a tiny, cramped room near the school.
The place was small—just a bed, a desk, and a chair—but to Guan Yao, it was a sanctuary.
Occasionally during holidays—especially the week leading up to Valentine's Day—she would go to the bird, fish, and flower market to buy red roses on the cheap.
Then she would bring them home and tend to them carefully, just so she could hawk them outside movie theaters, hotels, and bars on Valentine's night.
Guan Yao was deeply grateful for these tangled, overlapping holidays.
For instance, Valentine's Day on February 14th, White Valentine's Day on March 14th, Black Valentine's Day on April 14th, and of course, the Qixi Festival.
Without these holidays, Guan Yao's life might have been even harder.
Yet even as she felt grateful, Guan Yao would never forget how on every single February 14th, she had never once received flowers or a gift.
What remained even more unforgettable across both of her lifetimes was the biting winter wind.
Hunger and cold were truly the greatest miseries in the human world.
Guan Yao genuinely hoped that everyone in this world would be spared the chance to experience such suffering.
Of course, hawking flowers was no easy task; being ignored and given the cold shoulder by others had become the norm, and worse still, people would often hurl abuse at her.
...
Inside the small wooden box were the 4,000 yuan Guan Yao had saved through frugality.
She had already made up her mind to use the informational advantage brought by her Rebirth to make her very first pot of gold.
And that was—the stock market that had sparked a nationwide craze in 2015!
Although Guan Yao, as an ordinary person in her previous life, should have had nothing to do with the stock market...
Yet through a twist of fate, or perhaps arrangement by the heavens, Guan Yao was destined to go through this trial.
After all, as the old saying goes: a hemp rope always snaps at its thinnest part, and misfortune always singles out the destitute.
In her previous life, after working for a few years and saving up just a tiny bit of money, she had been duped by others and rushed headlong into the stock market with a fervent heart.
Whereupon she successfully cleared her savings account down to zero.
Even so, Guan Yao had frequently heard the legends surrounding the 2015 stock market.
The Shanghai Composite Index hovered around 3,000 points year-round. On the lower end, it was roughly 2,500 points, and on the higher end, it rarely exceeded 3,500 points.
Yet in June 2015, everything was different.
Guan Yao remembered that number with absolute clarity: on June 12, 2015, the Shanghai Composite Index closed at 5,166 points.
Today was the second day of the college entrance examinations, June 8th.
There were still four days until the peak, meaning Guan Yao could still seize the opportunity.
...
Early the next morning.
The entire city was still fast asleep, with only the occasional crisp chirp of a bird breaking the stillness.
Guan Yao stepped out early. Her pace was hurried yet carried a hint of determination, and in her hand, she tightly clutched a battered cloth bag containing what she treasured like life itself—the 4,000 yuan in savings that bore all her hopes.
She walked down the somewhat desolate street. A gentle breeze brushed past, stirring a few stray locks of hair by her ear, yet failing to distract her focus in the slightest.
Most of the shops along the street had yet to open, their rolling shutters pulled tight, with only the streetlights casting a faint glow to light her way forward.
Guan Yao turned into a small alley; the internet cafe was at the very end.
With poverty as her companion, she naturally could not afford a computer of her own.
Her heart beat faster as she drew closer to her destination, a mix of nervousness and excitement.
The reason she had left so early wasn't because Guan Yao didn't know the stock market didn't open until past nine; rather, she needed to arrive early to secure a suitable spot.
Finally, she reached the entrance of the internet cafe.
The cafe's sign was still lit, looking somewhat out of place in the dawn's dim light.
Guan Yao took a deep breath, pushed the door open, and walked inside.
The internet cafe was filled with a peculiar stench a mixture of cigarette smoke and instant noodles. The lighting was dim and flickering, and several rows of computers were neatly arranged, with only a handful of early-rising customers sitting before screens, lost in their own worlds.
Guan Yao walked toward the counter...