American success master

The next morning, Zhu Wencong, with his brothers in tow, headed to the mint to set up their stall.

In this era, stocks weren't much different from IOUs; buying and selling them was a matter of survival of the fittest.

If you bet correctly, you would reap high interest; if you lost your bet, hoping to recover your principal was impossible.

As descendants of immigrants, they often possessed a fearless spirit—after all, it was truly difficult to starve in this place.

"Not many people are coming over to buy stocks, and those who said they would come yesterday didn't show up.

Should we continue? They simply don't believe in us, or maybe they don't have much money..." Sun Ji approached Zhu Wencong.

"Maybe... should we go back to our jobs first?" Zhao Da dared not give up his job, preferring to work for foreigners rather than his own people.

"Let's hold on a bit longer! Although not many people are buying our stocks, we have sold a portion.

I've made two sales, and they each bought shares worth 10 shillings, which is more than a salary!" Luo Chu rubbed his hands, feeling somewhat lucky.

Hu Zhongshun distributed pork buns to everyone; he also made a sale, relying on his friendships.

Zhu Wencong gestured to everyone to keep their cool, for selling stocks was like fishing—those who wished would bite.

"I just want to say that if you make more sales, you can earn a month's salary in one day.

If you insist on working at the mint, I won't stop you—we'll still be brothers afterwards.

If we can hold out for seven days, until the first batch of investors receives their returns, our pressure will be halved.

After one month, we won't need to actively set up a stall to do business; customers will come to us proactively." Zhu Wencong painted a picture of the future.

"Clap, clap, clap!" A well-dressed man of Dutch descent applauded.

"Boss!" Luo Chu and the others said in their broken English.

James approached Zhu Wencong, having never seen such an impressive employee with such a high level of oratory skill.

Zhu Wencong and James exchanged a glance; many in San Francisco knew some Chinese as it was the gateway to trade with the East.

The current four Great Powers were the Anglo-French, Russia, and the Qing Dynasty, with America ranking behind the Qing, no joke.

To compete with the Anglo-French for the Eastern market, America had opened up the Japanese market with ships and cannons to force open their gates.

Big players competing against big players, underlings against underlings, that's why America and Japan were of the same sort.

"What's your name?" James asked directly.

"Zhu Wencong! Boss, would you like to learn about this stock?

Forty percent return on investment in one month, backed by a Gold Mountain as collateral." Zhu Wencong pulled James aside.

James adjusted his glasses, his face filled with disbelief as he gazed at Zhu Wencong.

Easterners had always made their mark in gambling, possessing magical means to control the situation.

But in investment, they were blank slates; they never believed in pie in the sky.

"Forty percent profit? Impossible!" James shook his head vigorously, having never seen such returns before.

"A Gold mine, you see!" Zhu Wencong said with a grin.

James took a deep breath; gold mines were not a wise choice unless they had colossal reserves.

"Come to my office!" James felt it necessary to understand Zhu Wencong's sources; that was the crux of the matter.

Zhu Wencong patted his brothers on the shoulder, encouraging them to work hard at selling the stocks—they could truly change their lives.

It was like in a certain movie, where worthless stocks were sold solely through the efforts of top salespeople; without them, there would be no high commissions.

"Coffee or tea?" James asked curiously.

"Coffee!" Zhu Wencong leaned back on the soft sofa, having gotten up early in the morning with no energy at all.

These days, America's tea from the East is all years old, taking more than half a year to arrive from the East to America.

Those foreign devils also don't like drinking tea, unless they are constipated; otherwise, they have no connection with tea.

"May I ask where the gold mine is?" James offered a cup of coffee.

"Is that important? A high-quality gold mine can still go bankrupt, and a poor one might strike it rich.

The price of gold depends on people's greed, and right now, a great war is erupting on the East Coast.

War determines the rise in gold prices. There's an old saying in the East: 'In times of chaos, gold is treasured; in times of prosperity, antiques are valued.'

You have no reason to reject this stock, especially since it's only valid for one month." Zhu Wencong spoke in English.

James thought quietly, both amazed at Zhu Wencong's fluency in spoken language and at his insights.

Not many people here know that a war has broken out on the East Coast; the West Coast seems like a peaceful idyll.

The American Civil War is essentially an internal conflict among the earliest thirteen states of North America, a match between capitalists and farm owners.

"How did you know that the North and the South had gone to war?" James was doubly curious.

"Just because you have friends doesn't mean I don't have any, especially since we're both in the gold and silver market.

The mint is working overtime, a phenomenon that did not exist before unless there was no money on the market.War consumes not just people, but also vast amounts of money; without money, no one is willing to risk their life." Zhu Wencong explained his reasoning.

James' eyes widened, finding himself more and more in admiration of Zhu Wencong's vision and judgment, which were incredibly sharp.

At present, both the North and the South are in desperate need of money; an agricultural nation without the financial system of an industrial nation can only print more money.

What is finance? Someone put it simply: without finance, there would be no railroads.

"Can you guess which side I'm on?" James took a sip of his coffee.

"The South!" Zhu Wencong answered directly. In the early days of the Civil War, the South gave the North a beating.

The American military academies are set up in the South, and Washington, the first commander-in-chief of the forces, also belonged to the Southern Faction.

Since the founding of the nation, the Southern Faction has been a dominant presence in the courts, with a foundation far surpassing that of the Northern Faction.

"Would you consider being my deputy?" James asked with determination.

Zhu Wencong shook his head. He would very much like James to be his deputy, specifically to handle interactions with those foreigners.

James showed a face full of regret. True talents often yearn for a free and easy life.

"Ah, such a pity! One last question, who do you think will ultimately win between the North and the South?" James couldn't help but ask.

"This is not a struggle between factions, but a choice about the future direction of a country.

We are not the decision-makers; the future direction is left to the elites, and they will always step up at critical moments.

It's like those who stepped forward to hold the Continental Congress back in the day; there will always be people who will save America in times of peril." Zhu Wencong revealed a mysterious smile.

"OMG! How do you know so much about our history?" James was completely flabbergasted; most Americans don't know much about their history.

"Is ninety years of history that long? Our history spans over five thousand years!" Zhu Wencong gave James a look.

"Ten thousand years? No wonder it's such a mysterious ancient country!" James exclaimed in admiration.