Chapter 19: The Hatred of Sudden Wealth

“The most important thing is that the first film must not fail. If it fails despite the current favorable market conditions, it will be very difficult to secure investment in the future!” Wei Jiahui let out a long sigh. It seemed he shared this concern but hadn’t been prepared yet.
Xiao Ran thought carefully and agreed that, as the two said, Wei Jiahui’s “Peace Hotel” had failed at the box office, leading to no one daring to invest further. He remembered Chen Guo, the director of “Made in Hong Kong,” once saying, “It’s easy to be a director now—so easy that anyone can try, but few can do it well!” Yet now, on the contrary, directors valued their reputations and didn’t rush into making films. Unlike after the decline of Hong Kong cinema, when anyone could become a director.
As they talked, several people were coming out of a nearby building, arguing and making noise…
Wei Jiahui was slightly surprised upon seeing them but quickly smiled knowingly. “A Ran, if you want to be a director, go to him! He can definitely help you.”
“Him?” Xiao Ran had no idea who Wei Jiahui meant. Focusing ahead, he immediately recognized the newcomers. “No way… How could he help me?”
“You’re a good screenwriter, right?” Wei Jiahui smiled mysteriously and continued, “Wang Jing started his career writing scripts, so he knows how to appreciate them. With your ‘Mr. Zombie,’ you’re bound to succeed! Don’t forget, his father is the famous director Wang Tianlin—he has extensive connections! In the film industry, connections mean everything.”
Wei Jiahui waved at Wang Jing and his group from afar. Xiao Ran stared at them and felt dizzy. All of them were familiar to him—the fat one was Wang Jing, the tall one was Feng Cuifan, and the one of average height with a distinctive appearance was Chen Baixiang.
The three approached and chatted with Wei Jiahui for a while. Xiao Ran guessed that Wang Jing must have high regard for Wei Jiahui’s screenwriting skills and his role in reviewing scripts. In comparison, You Zhi, who wasn’t yet fully trained, didn’t qualify to interject.
Wei Jiahui didn’t ignore Xiao Ran and introduced him to Wang Jing and the others. Wang Jing’s round face broke into a smile as he stretched out his hand. “So you’re Xiao Ran, the screenwriter of ‘Mr. Zombie’! I’ve long heard of you!”
“Not at all!” Xiao Ran smiled gently, with a sense of modest pride. “I’m the one who’s really admired you for a long time. Your gambling-themed films have truly great ideas!”
Xiao Ran wasn’t exaggerating at all. It was natural to have long admired him, and his respect was well-deserved. Without mentioning Wang Jing’s shoddy work, just the fact that he turned gambling-themed films into a hallmark of Hong Kong cinema was enough to earn Xiao Ran’s admiration.
Feng Cuifan was an experienced actor, though Xiao Ran didn’t know much about him. Still, he knew well that Feng was a decent actor, and the “Fortune Star” series he starred in had made millions. As for Chen Baixiang, he was even more remarkable—his comedic style was deeply rooted among the public, and he was one of Xiao Ran’s favorite comedians. Especially when playing despicable characters, his comedic talent was on par with “Ruhua”.

Upon hearing Xiao Ran’s sincere flattery, Wang Jing laughed so hard that the flesh on his face trembled. Chen Baixiang even said to Wang Jing with a smile, “If that’s the case, how about making a gambling movie next time!”
Chen Baixiang and Wang Jing were friends, which Xiao Ran could understand—after all, several of the films Chen Baixiang had acted in were directed by Wang Jing. But the fact that Feng Cuifan was also Wang Jing’s friend took Xiao Ran by surprise.
However, he quickly came up with a good explanation: after the huge success of *Infernal Affairs* in the 21st century, Wang Jing made a movie titled *Elegant Infernal Affairs: Chasing Girls*. That film featured several veteran actors, with Chen Baixiang being one and Feng Cuifan the other. If they weren’t friends, how could they even get them to participate after they retired!
“Well, how about going out for fun tonight?” Wang Jing said with a laugh to Xiao Ran and the others. “Let’s go to Du Laozhi’s place for some drinks and relax a bit. Working like this every day is exhausting. Let’s celebrate getting to know Ran!”
Du Laozhi? Since arriving in this era, Xiao Ran hadn’t really gone out much—never even to a nightclub. But he had heard of Du Laozhi’s long-established nightclub, first through the movie *A Real Man*, and later learned it was real from a news article on a Hong Kong website.
To his surprise, Wei Jiahui agreed right away. After thinking for a moment, Xiao Ran realized he was trying hard to create opportunities for himself as a director. Feeling grateful, Xiao Ran thought to himself that he had met quite a few people in this era, but most were just acquaintances; only a few were close friends. How could he not be touched by Wei Jiahui’s consideration?
“Anyway, it’s still early. How about this?” Chen Baixiang glanced at the sun in the sky and suggested, “Let’s go to the racetrack first and place some bets!”
You Zhi didn’t go—of course, he wasn’t included in such gatherings. Xiao Ran, however, took advantage of his status as a screenwriter and, with Wei Jiahui’s help, managed to get along with these people. He had long heard of Hong Kong’s horse races but never had the time or interest to experience them. This was a good chance to do so.
There were two racetracks in Hong Kong: one was Happy Valley, and the other was Sha Tin, where Xiao Ran and the others were going. Chen Baixiang, seemingly a regular there, led everyone straight to a private booth. After ordering some drinks, they stood on the balcony, watching the bustling scene inside!
It was no exaggeration to call it a bustling scene. Xiao Ran was amazed by everything he saw. It couldn’t be described simply as “bustling”—after all, the seats around the track were filled with gamblers who were sunburnt and desperate to get rich overnight.
At that moment, Chen Baixiang asked the staff to bring him a stack of documents, which he then carefully studied. Curious, Xiao Ran leaned over and asked, “What’s this?”
“This is information on all the horses! I spent a lot of effort collecting it!” Chen Baixiang was proud for a moment before showing a hint of disappointment. “It’s a shame these details aren’t very thorough or complete.”

What followed was much simpler. They all used binoculars to watch from the balcony until the announcer called out the names and numbers of the next races. Xiao Ran remained indifferent. Betting on horses might yield a win, but it was clearly very difficult; it was better to rob the horse racing association, as he remembered that the highest daily betting amount in that era had reached hundreds of millions.

However, when the announcer called out a horse’s name, Xiao Ran felt a vague sense of familiarity. The horse was named Tongde, and its jockey was Wang Dengping. He racked his brains for a long time until just before the race started when he suddenly remembered that Tongde was the champion horse with ten consecutive wins! (Note: In reality, Tongde was the champion horse of 1983–84; for narrative purposes, it had to be made to be born later.)

The reason he remembered this was simple—he had accidentally seen it while searching online in his dream life. The article mentioned that in 2005, a horse named Elite Master achieved sixteen consecutive wins, tying the world record. Only at the end of the article was it mentioned that the previous highest record for consecutive wins in Hong Kong horse racing was held by Tongde, with ten wins.

Once he understood the origin of this, his heart started pounding violently. He couldn’t bear to think further—if he bet on Tongde to win all ten races, wouldn’t he become rich? He quickly went over to Chen Baixiang and asked, “Brother Le, do you know a horse named Tongde?”

“I know it!” Brother Le was Chen Baixiang’s nickname. He blinked a few times, flipped through some information, and quickly found it. Frowning, he said, “You want to bet on it? That horse isn’t very good, and it’s only just started racing—it hasn’t even made it into the top three!”

Xiao Ran’s heart raced wildly. If he bet on this horse, he would truly become rich. Ten consecutive wins—how much money could he make from that? Not to mention making one movie, it would be more than enough to make ten!

“Brother Le, if a horse has several consecutive wins, wouldn’t those who keep betting on it become rich?” He waved his index finger and thumb straight to calm himself down.

“You’re stupid. How is that possible?” Although Chen Baixiang didn’t show it on his face, Xiao Ran could tell he meant, “You’re an idiot.” “You need to understand that the odds are the most important thing!”

“If that horse is an underdog and you bet hundreds of thousands, the odds will naturally be low. Even if you win, you won’t make much!” Chen Baixiang continued to explain to this horse-racing idiot, “But even then, it’s easy to make a lot of money. The problem is, if it keeps winning consecutively, it’s hard to keep making money that way!”

“You have to understand that the public likes to follow the crowd. If that consecutive-winner horse wins its first race, it’s considered a surprise that lets you make a fortune! But in the next race, people will take that horse’s performance into account, and since it’s just won one race, it will naturally become a favorite. That way, many people will bet, and even the highest odds will be reduced.”

After learning about some of the rules and specifics of horse racing, Xiao Ran was completely desperate. It was certain he couldn’t make money relying on Tongde. The highest prize in horse racing was three T, which meant betting on the top three horses’ positions. There were also bets for a single winner and for specific positions, with the single-winner bet offering a higher prize.

Given the possible consecutive wins for Tongde in the future, Xiao Ran’s chances of betting on three T’s are virtually none. That means he can only bet on outright wins or position bets, but even then it depends on the odds—generally, it’s hard to get odds in the dozens. Even at a common odds ratio of 14-to-1, if Xiao Ran bets on Tongde, he can’t bet too much, otherwise the odds will surely be reduced. In other words, if he bets 100,000, he might only earn a little over 1 million. But Xiao Ran doesn’t know the exact time when Tongde will start its ten consecutive wins, so he can’t accurately predict which races to bet on. If he bets 10,000 on every race, he might go bankrupt before Tongde even starts winning. The worst part is that he can only make big money if Tongde wins for the first time; once it wins once, it will go from an underdog to a favorite, and the odds will definitely drop to around 3-to-1. While he won’t lose money in this case, it may not reach the amount he expects. Actually, after all this discussion, it can be summed up in one sentence: Xiao Ran has no chance of recovering his initial capital through Tongde, which explains why he’s so disheartened. He had initially thought he had a shortcut to wealth, but upon closer analysis, it turned out to be a minefield and swamp—how could he not be utterly depressed? Fortunately, everyone was focused on the horses about to compete, so no one noticed Xiao Ran’s distress. He slumped back in his chair—this time he had a chance to build up his capital, but… Sigh! Just thinking about it made his heart ache. Thankfully, he’s quite optimistic and open-minded; otherwise, he might have developed heart disease from stress. He told himself, “Xiao Ran, Xiao Ran, just being here is already a gift from heaven. Why push for so much? If you really need money, why not be born into a wealthy family?” He reminded himself that he wanted to start a business, fulfill his dreams in desperate circumstances, and enjoy the unparalleled thrill of fighting against fate and the whole world. It wasn’t just for money, nor was it to take a shortcut to the top. Some things still need to be done by ourselves to truly satisfy us.