Wang Xiaoliang wanted to respond, but he could not get a single word out.
He seemed to suddenly understand his father's unexpected melancholy.
Liu Xinyu's grandfather had been telling Liu Chengde that he stood at the very front, shielding his son and grandson, and behind him lay death.
If Grandpa Liu passed away, the next ones standing in death's path would be Liu Chengde and his wife.
His own grandfather had passed away the year before last, and his grandmother had died even earlier.
So now, weren't his father, Wang Keqin, and his mother, Zhao Xiuqin, the ones standing between him and death?
That night, Wang Xiaoliang tossed and turned, sleeping very fitfully.
In the study, he lay in bed, staring at the ceiling with his eyes open.
Eventually, he sat up, took out the old Book of Fate, and turned to the latest page with complicated feelings.
Lately, he had felt that he needed to ponder the Book of Fate repeatedly rather than casually opening it to read further.
But today, he felt a little restless and wanted to use the Book of Fate to settle himself.
Under the bedside lamp, the ink-black lettering appeared clearly before his eyes, as though it had just been written.
[Twenty-Fifth Art of Fate-Changing: Investing capital to trade in gold and pursue the profits of salt and iron is like gambling; from the outset, one must be prepared to stake everything on a single throw. Those who promise certain success are frauds. Joint ventures, in particular, are a perilous path.]
The literal meaning was not difficult to understand.
Investing to make money and chasing profits were no different from gambling.
From the very beginning, you had to be prepared to lose every penny.
Those who thumped their chests and guaranteed a hundred percent