Courtyard House: Drunk and tipsy, the whole courtyard exposed at the start.

In just half a month, plus what we got from Director Lu at the bank.

He had accumulated more than 10,000 brand-new 10-yuan notes and spent more than 100,000 yuan.

This has reached the limit on the market, and it's already past its destruction period; there's no more to collect.

None of the other items met his requirements.

He now has only 350,000 yuan left in his bank accounts in mainland China.

Today is the last day for the limited-time redemption of the 10-yuan note; banks will no longer exchange this old banknote starting tomorrow.

Zhang Dabiao stepped through the gate of the courtyard house, carrying a tattered canvas bag.

In the front yard, Yan Bugui was watering the flowers with a broken watering can.

His tiny green beady eyes darted around, fixed intently on the empty bag in Zhang Dabiao's hand.

"Da Biao."

"This bag is practically empty. Did you miss the exchange?"

Yan Bugui's face was full of gloating wrinkles.

For the past two weeks, everyone has seen Zhang Dabiao collecting old money every day.

Bundles of large black shovels flowed into the east courtyard, but no one saw Zhang Dabiao make a single trip to the bank.

The bank's closing bell rang long ago today.

Those black market coins in Zhang Dabiao's hands are now worthless; they're no longer in circulation.

"I told you long ago that you have to follow the rules and be calculating in life."

"You won't go poor from eating or dressing; you'll only go poor if you don't plan ahead."

"Ten dollars for ten dollars, plus extra milk candy? Do you think you're some kind of God of Wealth descended to earth?"

"Now look what happened, tens of thousands of yuan have all gone down the drain!"

Yan Bugui shouted louder and louder, unaware that Zhang Dabiao had spent over 100,000 yuan on Dahei.

Liu Haizhong and Yi Zhonghai from the Intermediate People's Court also came over after hearing the commotion.

Liu Haizhong stood with his hands behind his back, his large belly protruding, and a look of disdain on his face.

"Da Biao, this is a classic case of 'not listening to the elders' advice and suffering the consequences'."

"You insist on keeping things that the government has issued documents to destroy."

"That's called having a low level of awareness! You're trying to find a loophole, but you didn't succeed!"

Yi Zhonghai slowly and deliberately took over the conversation while holding his teacup.

"We're all neighbors, and Da Biao has suffered such a huge loss, so let's not kick him when he's down."

"Da Biao, don't spend money so extravagantly in the future."

"This person still needs to be down-to-earth."

It seemed like he was comforting Zhang Dabiao, but his words were actually a sarcastic remark.

Zhang Dabiao stopped in his tracks.

He casually tossed the empty canvas bag behind his back and slung it over his shoulder.

"Teacher Yan."

"Don't worry about this for me."

Even if all the tens of thousands of yuan I have become worthless.

"I still have more than 300,000 in my bank savings account, and the interest tax alone is more than 20,000 a year."

"I lie in bed every day counting money, and even when my hands cramp up, I still can't spend it all."

"You're worried I'll lose money? I'm doing this because I'm willing to do it, you know? I can afford to lose."

The entire hospital fell silent instantly.

Yan Bugui's smile froze instantly.

Liu Haizhong's stomach suddenly sucked back in.

Yi Zhonghai's hand, which was holding the teacup, trembled violently.

More than three hundred thousand!

These words were like a giant iron hammer smashing down on the heads of the three old men.

In those days, when workers toiled away for a month and only earned thirty yuan.

What does 300,000 mean?

It would be more than enough to buy the entire Nanluoguxiang.

Yan Bugui swallowed hard, still trying to hold on.

"You...you should stop bragging without thinking."

"Even if you have money, you can't waste it like this. Those are national resources."

Just as he finished speaking, a crisp bicycle bell rang out from the alley entrance.

Director Wang from the neighborhood office and Director Lu from the bank walked into the compound side by side, pushing their bicycles.

Director Lu was also holding a large red brocade banner in his hands.

Director Wang sternly looked at Yan Bugui from afar.

"Old Yan, who were you just spreading rumors about, claiming that someone was wasting national resources?"

Yan Bugui was so frightened that he took a step back.

"Director Wang, I...I am Zhang Dabiao, the education specialist."

"He hoarded a bunch of worthless 10-yuan notes; isn't that just a waste of money?"

Director Lu stepped forward and unfurled the banner with a "whoosh".

The large, gold-embossed characters above read "High moral character and integrity, sacrificing family wealth to relieve hardship."

Director Lu's face was flushed and he was very excited.

"Comrade Yan Bugui."

"I won't allow you to slander Comrade Zhang Dabiao like that!"

Director Lu turned to face all the residents who were watching the commotion.

"Everyone, listen up!"

"Comrade Zhang Dabiao not only didn't waste national resources, he was actually reducing the burden on the country in a roundabout way!"

Director Wang nodded emphatically as he continued the conversation.

"You bunch of people are just short-sighted."

"Comrade Da Biao donated 100,000 remittance certificates to the bureau two years ago."

"Last year, another million was spent to buy those unwanted old items to enrich the national cultural archives."

He also donated 200 yuan during the recent flood disaster.

"This time, he spent money to exchange the soon-to-be-expired 'Big Black Ten' from everyone at the original price."

"What's in it for him?"

Everyone was wondering the same thing—what was he after? Was he stupid?

Director Wang's stern gaze swept over Yi Zhonghai and Liu Haizhong.

"He did it to help the country clear out its old currency inventory!"

"He was worried that people queuing at the bank would delay the factory's production and construction!"

"He's using his own hard-earned money to give to the country and make things convenient for the people!"

"Anyone who dares to gossip about Comrade Zhang Dabiao behind his back is going against our subdistrict office."

"That would be going against the country!"

The hat was too big.

Liu Haizhong's legs went weak and he almost fell to the ground.

Yi Zhonghai quickly lowered his head and didn't dare to breathe.

Yan Bugui trembled like a leaf.

His little schemes are nothing compared to Director Wang's grand assessment.

Zhang Dabiao was overjoyed, but his face was a little flushed – I really just wanted to buy cultural relics, we're going for volume.

Furthermore, these leaders have an incredible ability to make up stories; they managed to package their hoarding of rare banknotes for appreciation as a selfless act of dedication.

Where the hell can we find justice?

Zhang Dabiao stepped forward and accepted the banner from Director Lu with both hands.

"Director Wang, Director Lu, you flatter me."

"I, Zhang Dabiao, am just an ordinary student. It's only right that I make some contributions to the country."

"I am a staunch materialist. Money is something you can't take with you when you die, so enough is enough."

"Money's a piece of trash, I can always earn more!"

Director Lu held Zhang Dabiao's hand tightly and shook it up and down.

"Brother Da Biao, we really need to learn from your level of thinking. To be honest, none of us would dare to do what you did. You truly see money as dirt! You are the real cultured person!"

Director Wang patted Zhang Dabiao on the shoulder, his face full of satisfaction.

Under the distorted, livid gazes of a group of beasts, Zhang Dabiao strolled back to the east courtyard, carrying the banner.

He wrapped the more than 10,000 large black sheets in layers of oil paper and used the available space to transfer them all to the cellar of a village house in Hong Kong.

He stood in the cellar looking at the large pile of banknotes, not a lot, just a hundred bills per stack, only 100 stacks.

I quickly did some mental calculations.

Ten thousand copies, if their value were fixed in later generations, would be worth 350,000; if the value were as low as 80,000, let's assume an average price of 100,000 per copy.

Is its future value worth billions?

impossible?

You spent 10 yuan on yourself?

Isn't this more direct than speculating in stocks or real estate?

The overwhelming feeling of sudden wealth made every pore on his body relax.

But as he stroked his chin, he suddenly fell into deep thought.

I'm holding onto so many rare banknotes; what if I release them all later?

Will it directly cause the prices in the future collectibles market to collapse?

Did you break it?