Chapter 1: The God-Making Project
In the capital of the Great Song Dynasty, Kaifeng, there appeared a living deity. Setting up a stall to tell fortunes, offering guidance to the lost, promising wealth and turning luck around—nothing was beyond his power.
Rumor had it he was the reincarnation of Zhao Gongming, the god of wealth; whoever crossed his path found fortune, whoever he pointed to found redemption. He had descended deliberately to bestow prosperity upon those fated to receive it.
From high-ranking ministers to lowly foot soldiers, all sought a divination from him, hoping to elevate their lives to new heights.
But the deity asked three questions. Fail to answer any, and your lifetime would be devoid of fortune. Moreover, this immortal was elusive, his whereabouts ever-changing and difficult to find.
Nineteen-year-old Emperor Zhao Xu of the Great Song was skeptical of such superstition. Though frauds abounded, what if this one were true?
The emperor himself was in dire need of money—and desperately so. The Song treasury had been in deficit for over twenty years straight. Debts outside the capital alone exceeded seventy million strings of cash, enough that even selling the throne wouldn’t cover it.
At last, they found a turncoat official, Wang Anshi, willing to levy state funds, yet he was being daily attacked in the council chambers until numb.
If a real deity could reveal a clear path, all would be freed from this burden!
Determined, Zhao Xu disguised himself and went to try his luck personally.
Outside the East City Gate, at the Five Barracks Camp, Horse-front Alley, a banner stood upright on the street inscribed with four words in running script: “Consultation for a Fee.”
There was a table, a chair, a teapot, and a money basket. A man of about twenty, clad in a light blue linen gown, was reading a book.
Disguised, Zhao Xu approached the table and paid the consultation fee.
The man put down his book, revealing a sharply featured face—somewhat long, with keen, wolf-like eyes.
The soothsayer scanned him from head to foot, lingering briefly on the jade pendant at Zhao Xu’s waist. After a moment, he shook his head.
“This matter is beyond my handling. Seek out someone more skilled,” he said, returning to his book.
Zhao Xu resolutely removed the jade pendant and offered it, signaling his attendant to add a handful of gold coins.
The soothsayer looked greatly troubled, inhaled deeply, and sighed at length.
“Three questions. Answer correctly, and you may ask yours; answer wrongly, and take your money and leave!”
“Agreed.”
“The first: ‘When prices rise, demand tends to fall; when prices fall, demand tends to rise’—this is common sense. Yet during a rice shortage, the price rises and more people queue to buy. Why is this?”
Zhao Xu, well-versed in the Four Books and Five Classics, and accustomed to reading the Spring and Autumn Annals and Records of the Grand Historian, understood this question perfectly.
“Because during a rice shortage, merchants hoard stock, and as today’s prices rise, tomorrow’s prices will be higher, forcing people to rush to purchase rice.”
Feeling triumphant, Zhao Xu thought such a question trivial—were those who failed truly that dull?
“Give me the second question!”
“The Changsheng Treasury lends at fifteen percent interest in normal years, thirteen percent in bountiful years, and twenty percent in lean years. Yet more people borrow in bountiful years. Why is that?”
Zhao Xu paused, sensing a trap.
During a rice shortage, people buy quickly to avoid money losing value. But logically, borrowing should increase when interest is low, so why borrow more in bountiful years when interest is lower, and less in lean years when it’s higher?
The question grew more complex, causing a dull ache in his head.
“I do not know. Please enlighten me.”
“The borrowers at the Changsheng Treasury are mostly small households. In lean years, they have barely enough to survive and must tighten their belts. Only in bountiful years, when they have some surplus, do they dare to borrow to buy more clothes or children’s needs.”
Ah! So the difference between buying rice and borrowing money lies in urgency.
When life is good, expand operations; when life is hard, stop losses. Human nature is indeed complicated.
“I want to hear the third question!”
“Managing the Changsheng Treasury at twenty percent interest—if twenty percent of borrowers default, what is the actual revenue on a principal of one thousand strings? And if you want to earn one hundred strings in interest, what should the fixed interest rate be?”
Zhao Xu thought, how bothersome—still a chain of linked questions.
A twenty percent default means losing two hundred strings of principal plus eight hundred strings of principal and interest, totaling nine hundred and sixty strings.
To earn one hundred strings profit, you have to first lose two hundred principal, then make eight hundred earn one thousand one hundred strings, meaning the interest rate is about thirty-seven percent or more.
But that’s already considered usury banned by the court!
The court’s green seed loan charged twenty percent, and Chancellor Wang insisted the interest must be twenty percent. To pass assessments, local authorities had to shift the default losses onto other borrowers.
Does that mean the court and the emperor are actually loan sharks?
Suddenly, Zhao Xu felt his mind ring as if struck by cymbals and gongs.
The world spun, rivers reversed, time rewound.
“Master, master, wake up, wake up!” After a long moment, Zhao Xu returned to reality. Looking around, no one remained.
“Master, the soothsayer has left!”
He looked towards where his servant pointed and saw a pawnshop called “People’s Benefit Money House” in neat regular script.
The man must have recognized his identity and left that hint—truly a divine being.
Bowing deeply to the sign, Zhao Xu paid respect to the master of the three questions.
He must return to discuss with Chancellor Wang whether the new policies were pushed too hastily.
Three days later, the Royal City Office sent a dossier on the god of wealth.
Li Chang’an, twenty-one years old, originally from Yangzhou. After losing his father ten years prior, he had followed his mother to live with his maternal grandfather, Zhang Wenbin.
The Zhang family owned several grocery and grain shops, a bookstore, and a large pawnshop—second in line on Sweetwater Lane in the West City—making them notable wealthy patrons.
During the Lantern Festival, grandfather and grandson quarreled fiercely over a marriage match, and Li Chang’an was cast out to a small inn outside the East Wall, forced to fend for himself.
Deputy Officer Cao Rui of the Royal City Office added, “This lad seems no good!”
“Oh?”
“Since youth, unruly, refusing to study the classics or engage in trade. Curious about illicit skills, he befriends Scholar Su and boasts of possessing talents capable of reshaping heaven and earth, saying he wants to start a gazetteer—yes, a Financial Weekly.”
“Financial Weekly?”
---
At Horse-front Alley, People’s Benefit Money House.
Li Chang’an spoke eloquently, holding a work meeting with four young men.
In the meeting room stood a long table covered with pristine white silk, adorned with a row of green foliage.
At the head was a blackboard inscribed with “Daily Clear, Daily Clean, Daily Complete,” beneath which several charts were pinned with iron nails.
The room was simple and elegant, furnished sparingly, but with fine glazed glass windows that let in abundant light.
“...They are the greatest wealth, the richest treasury in the world. Our first step is to conquer them, to possess them! Throughout history, those who achieved greatness fully mobilized and utilized them. They are the best chives, the best lambs, the best cannon fodder, the best sacrifices. They lack knowledge, have limited vision, isolated as individuals, stripped of all power to resist. But as long as you offer hope—even if it’s only illusory hope—you can drive them like carrots before donkeys, making them work for you!
“Gentlemen, believe me: once we complete the next phase of our plan, they will wholly submit to the illusions we create, march the path we designate, charge the walls we target, and defeat the strongest enemies. Then you—will become masters of the world! Eternal leaders! Saviors who create a new world! The only gods in history capable of changing reality!”
---
Before the meeting ended, as usual, he pounded his right fist on his chest twice, then extended his arm forward, shouting:
“Loyalty!”
After the meeting, everyone took their assignments and left.
Liu Sanqiang sneaked back like a thief, rifling through the room’s files.
“Hey, the boss keeps saying ‘reverse-engineer the Horse Classic,’ but I’ve searched all the texts and can’t find any version of the Horse Classic that teaches economics or finance?”
---
He grew more confused, wondering if he misheard or if such an economic Horse Classic truly existed.
Returning to the money house’s counter, brothers Guanghe and Guangxiao were visibly excited.
Both were born servants of the Zhang family and had served the young master since childhood; now with the family split, the business belonged to Li Chang’an.
Li Chang’an recovered his composure and resumed his role as the golden touch expert.
“Guanghe, you go to the city as a clerk.
“Double pay, board and lodging provided, with bonuses for good work. Choose someone steady, trustworthy!”
Zhang Guanghe promptly agreed, took his knapsack, filled his gourd with water, chewed dry biscuits, and left.
Li Chang’an shook his head with a bitter smile.
I pay you five strings a month, and you put on this act of loyalty? Loyalty isn’t about that.
“What about me, master?”
Guangxiao was restless, always afraid of having nothing to do; the master sent him back to the old Zhang household to continue his hardships.
“You find some smooth talkers, fifty wen a day, to promote our business on the streets!”
---
Once everyone left, Li Chang’an relaxed.
He pulled from a drawer a worn, dark blue faux-leather diary, its corners frayed and sealed with resin.
Stamped in gold lacquer were the letters: NTU History of Political Economy 2014; Advisor—David Zhang.
Opening the cover, many early pages had already been torn out.
The first title read “Matchstick Project,” with experimental notes and a conclusion marked “Fail.”
A new title followed: “Great Torch—Great Song Romanization Reform Plan.”
Experimental notes:
“Matchstick Project 2.0 failed utterly due to the Song elites’ lack of passion for pure theory and their strong pragmatic tendencies.
“The second phase shifts from ideation to theoretical dissemination, forcibly driving institutional evolution and ideological innovation.
“Steps:
1. Gain prestige and establish positional advantage;
2. Obtain funds and build propaganda platforms;
3. Cultivate talent and seize reform leadership;
4. Reform society and establish commercial civilization;
5. Summarize experience and conclude.
“Note: Due to the absence of advisor David Zhang, the entire experiment was independently designed by myself, representing complete originality. I hope the judges will offer cautious encouragement.”
This was his personal game, treating life as an experiment.
If successful, he would stand shoulder to shoulder with the founding father Adam Smith.
If he failed, so be it—he’d be the second Wang Mang.
Lack of experience? Not important.
The entire Song dynasty had produced Wang Anshi, Fu Bi, Han Qi, Sima Guang, Wen Yanbo, Su Shi, Ouyang Xiu—all of whom had failed worse.
This founding ancestor, he would claim without shame!