Courtyard Houses: From Bronze Compasses to Global Reach

"Albert, a mere billion dollars isn't something you need to discuss with me! Tell me your thoughts!"

"Young Master, you are wise. A billion dollars is indeed not worth your attention. But this Soros... his report is extraordinary. It's not just generalities, but based on extremely detailed data on the internal pressures of the European Exchange Rate Mechanism (ERM), and a precise analysis of the divergence between the UK's fiscal deficit and the Bundesbank's policies. He not only saw the cracks, but also clearly marked the most vulnerable point, and designed a theoretically feasible, multi-dimensional strategy that uses leverage and derivatives to amplify the attack's effect. This man is a natural 'predator,' with first-rate intuition and courage. I think... he might actually be able to leverage something."

Inside the office, Lin Yan slowly got up and walked to the huge floor-to-ceiling window.

"I know him. The head of the Quantum Fund certainly has some tricks up his sleeve. His judgment is basically correct; the pound is at its last gasp."

"However, we will not get directly involved in this matter."

There are two reasons.

"First, as you said, following his methods, he might be able to earn billions. But for us, that's just a pile of numbers, a small-scale operation. The effort required to mobilize resources, circumvent subsequent investigations, and balance the perspectives of all parties is disproportionate to the returns."

"Secondly, and most importantly, if we were to fully intervene with our past style and resources, cooperating with his plan... it wouldn't be as simple as just getting the Bank of England to back down. The credibility of the entire British financial system could suffer a structural blow, or even trigger unpredictable chain reactions. A violently turbulent, resentful Europe is not in our long-term interest. What I need is a relatively stable, not chaotic, European market as our foundation."

Albert, far away in Berlin, listened quietly, understanding in his heart.

The young master's chess game is never about gains or losses within a small space.

"However," Lin Yan changed the subject.

"Considering his report timely reminded me of something... I can do him a favor. He wants a billion? Then give him another billion. Let him be the 'warrior' charging into battle."

"Yes, young master."

"besides,"

Lin Yan's thoughts clearly went further, and he began to plan what would happen after the storm.

"In the coming years, we need to adjust the direction of our political donations in the UK. We will gradually reduce our support for the Conservative Party and shift towards the Labour Party. Remember, this must be done gradually and discreetly. The transition must be completed before 1997. I want to see our influence smoothly transition to the future leaders."

"Understood, young master. I will make proper arrangements." Albert was once again impressed by his young master's foresight.

Harvesting immediate profits makes one a hunter; sowing the seeds for the future makes one a true chess player.

In the summer of 1992, a heatwave swept across the globe, and this scorching heat reached its peak in Barcelona, ​​Spain—the venue for the 25th Summer Olympic Games.

The air was filled with the salty dampness of the sea breeze, the excitement of sweat, and the never-ending cheers.

Lin Yan felt it was time to take the children to see a global spectacle.

So, Chenchen, Xixi, and Xiaoqi, along with Lin Yan, Wang Yuling, and Lin Gang, appeared under the scorching Barcelona sun.

Instead of staying in an overly luxurious hotel, they opted for a quiet apartment with a view of the Montjuïc Olympic Stadium.

Everything was new and exciting for the two children: flags of all nations fluttering in the streets, crowds of people of different skin colors wearing national team uniforms and beaming with joy, and the ubiquitous abstract dog mascot pattern called "Cobi".

At the Monterey Park Stadium, watching the 100-meter sprinters speeding across the track, Xi Xi clung to the railing, her eyes wide with excitement.

"Daddy, those people run so fast! As fast as Xiaoqi!"

Chenchen was more interested in the precise measuring instruments next to the long jump sandpit, and he seemed to be pondering some underlying principles.

Soon, when they first saw the familiar red and yellow team take the stage and heard the word "China" coming from the broadcast, they were amazed.

That was during a billiards semi-final.

The small silver ball flew rapidly across the table, tracing dazzling trajectories.

The Chinese players were focused and swung their rackets decisively.

Every brilliant spike and every tenacious save gripped the hearts of the two young Chinese spectators in the stands.

Go China! Go China!

At first, Xixi just shouted softly along with the few Chinese students around her. Soon, her voice grew louder and louder, her clear childlike voice piercing through the noise, and her face turned red with excitement.

She didn't understand any tactics or techniques; she only knew that when the ball flew towards the other side, she had to shout "Good shot!"

When it flies towards you, shout "Hold on!"

At first, Chenchen maintained a bit of a boy's "reserve," only clenching his fists tightly and leaning his body forward and backward with the rhythm of the game.

But when the opponent tied the score and the game became intense, he couldn't hold back any longer and, together with his sister, shouted "Go China!" with all his might.

His voice was a little lower than Xi Xi's, but it was equally full of urgency and longing.

Lin Yan sat behind them, a smile playing on his lips.

He watched the children lose themselves in the moment, cheering for every point scored by the Chinese team and lamenting every mistake they made.

This pure and fervent sense of national identity and collective honor cannot be fully learned in the classroom or from picture books.

Wang Yuling was busy handing them water and wiping their sweat, while Lin Gang looked around to ensure safety, but his eyes were also occasionally drawn to the intense competition.

Xiao Qi squatted at Lin Yan's feet. Of course, it couldn't understand the rules of human sports competitions, but it could clearly feel the surging emotions of its little master and the surrounding crowd.

It found this pure and intense collective emotional fluctuation quite interesting.

Over the next few days, they watched diving, gymnastics, swimming... any event with Chinese athletes participating became Chenchen and Xixi's "home field".

At the diving hall, watching the Chinese athletes plunge straight into the azure water like needles, splashing tiny droplets, Xi Xi's screams could almost lift the roof off.

At the gymnastics hall, when Chenchen and several other Chinese students next to him clapped their hands until they were red, watching the Chinese athletes move like nimble larks on the balance beam and finally land steadily.

Their refueling methods have also become "professional".

Xi Xi, having learned it from somewhere, was waving a small five-star red flag.

Chenchen learned to rhythmically shout "China! Rise up!" along with a small group of spectators at crucial moments.

The two children were completely immersed in the Olympic heat and the excitement of national honor. After watching each game, their voices were hoarse, but their little faces were flushed with excitement.

"Dad! Did we win? Was that gold medal golden?"

Back at the apartment that evening, Xixi, her voice hoarse, nestled against Lin Yan's chest, pressing him for answers.

Chenchen also held the newspaper with the medal list, pointed to the Chinese names, and looked at his father with bright eyes.

"We won, lots of gold medals, all of them gold."

Lin Yan gently brushed her warm spiritual energy across the two children's overused vocal cords, relieving the burning sensation, and answered softly.

He told them that the Olympics is not just about winning or losing, but also about the years of hard work and dedication of the athletes, and the significance of standing on the field representing a country.

On the eve of the closing ceremony of the Olympics, they watched the last match in which the Chinese team participated.

When the "March of the Volunteers" resounded in the stadium in a foreign land and the five-star red flag was slowly raised, Chenchen and Xixi stopped all their cheering and stood up straight.

Xi Xi imitated the athletes, puffing out her little chest, while Chen Chen pursed his lips tightly, staring intently at the rising red flag.

At that moment, without needing to say anything, something profound had already been quietly planted.

On the day I left Barcelona, ​​the plane took off, and the city on the ground gradually shrank.

Xi Xi leaned against the porthole, looking at the stadium below growing smaller and smaller, and suddenly whispered:

"Dad, I also want to stand in a very high place when I grow up, so that others can cheer me on."

Chenchen didn't say anything, but silently gripped the small, replica "gold medal" he had bought at the Olympic souvenir shop in his pocket.

Lin Yan patted the two children's heads and looked out at the vast sky.

This summer's journey has come to an end, but some sounds, some scenes, and some emotions have been deeply imprinted on the children's path of growth.

What a father can do is take them to see, hear, and experience the different dimensions of this vast world, whether it's the everyday life in the alleyways or the glory on the world stage.