Soul Returns to Hong Kong: From Tailor Shop to Richest Woman

At 7:30 in the morning, Lin Ying opened the door. On the table were fried eggs, barbecued pork buns, and a small dish of pickled vegetables and shredded pork.

At the dinner table, Lin Qian held an English vocabulary book, muttering to himself, "responsible, responsible; environment, environment..."

Lin Ying pulled out a chair and sat down: "Up so early today?"

Lin Qian yawned: "I'm taking the high school entrance exam this June, and I've already decided on that all-boys school in Wan Chai."

Lin Lanying came out of the kitchen carrying two cups of hot milk: "Su Jun, who has such a poor foundation, still got in. If you keep thinking about playing video games every day, you'll only be able to watch other people wearing pretty school uniforms in the future."

Lin Qian regained some of his senses: "I'm not just good at playing video games."

"Then finish your meal and study hard." Lin Ying put a char siu bao into his bowl. "That boys' school in Wan Chai isn't a place you can just get into. They teach entirely in English, except for Chinese."

Lin Qian muttered under his breath, "I know, I didn't cause any trouble."

Yesterday, he sat in the living room the whole time, listening to his mother talk about tutoring when she got home. One lesson cost three hundred Hong Kong dollars. That's several days' wages for a high-level white-collar worker in Central.

Lin Qian used to think that Uncle Su charging his sister 100 yuan per lesson was already an exorbitant price. It wasn't until yesterday that he realized just how terrifying the fees were for learning top-notch skills in this era. He didn't dare to cause any trouble and could only obediently stay home and study.

After breakfast, Lin Lanying grabbed her coat and handbag from the sofa: "Aying, grab your schoolbag, Mommy will go with you."

Lin Ying slung her backpack over her shoulder and said, "Mommy, it doesn't have to be so complicated. I can just take a taxi from Taikoo Shing to Central."

"No way." Lin Lanying refused directly. "The hillside is full of private residences belonging to the wealthy and powerful. You're just a thirteen-year-old girl, going to a foreign professor's house for lessons every day. I won't feel at ease unless I'm with you personally. Professor Smith may be a good person, but we can't slack off on the rules we should follow."

Lin Ying didn't try to persuade her anymore. Her mother was open-minded and supported her daughter in moving forward, but she wouldn't compromise on protecting her daughter.

Before leaving, Lin Lanying instructed Lin Qian at the dinner table: "Before I get back, give me two math worksheets and one English reading report. Don't let me find out you're secretly going through the comic books in the drawer."

Lin Qian raised his right hand: "I promise I won't look! I'll sit at this table and write!"

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From Taikoo Shing to Central, the traffic flowed continuously.

Professor Smith's son's apartment is in a luxury villa.

Upon opening the door, the room was furnished in a typical old-fashioned English style. There were dark solid wood bookshelves, thick wool carpets, a large movable blackboard by the window, and a large walnut desk next to it.

Professor Smith was already waiting in the study. He was wearing only a light gray wool sweater and holding half a piece of chalk in his hand.

Good morning, Lynn.

Lin Ying replied in fluent English, "Good morning, Professor Smith."

Lin Lanying couldn't understand a few words of English, but she could see the professor's kind attitude, so she smiled and said, "Good morning, Professor."

Professor Smith deliberately slowed his speech and pointed outside to Lin Lanying: "Mrs. Lin, please sit here. Tea is on the table."

Lin Ying translated from the side: "Mommy, the professor said you can sit in the living room outside and wait. Tea and snacks are on the table."

Lin Lanying thanked her repeatedly, then retreated to the sofa in the living room and sat down quietly without making a sound.

At 10:00 AM sharp, the study door was half-closed, and the lecture officially began.

Smith didn't bring any handouts, nor did he start from the basics; he simply wrote five questions on the blackboard.

"I need to know exactly where your boundaries lie." Smith turned to look at Lin Ying. "You did very well at the teahouse yesterday, but one test doesn't tell the whole story. Today, we'll start with limits, derivatives, sequences, and topological proofs."

Lin Ying nodded and opened the brand-new notebook.

For the first problem about the limits of sequences, Smith only wrote the first two steps of the derivation on the blackboard. Lin Ying, following the logic, had already written out the final convergence interval.

In the second question, Smith deliberately buried a tiny conditional trap in the derivative derivation.

When Lin Ying wrote the third line, she realized: "Professor, the order of the limits cannot be directly interchanged here. A prerequisite of continuity is missing, so the model does not hold."

"Very good! Excellent!" The old man excitedly tapped the blackboard. "Continue!"

For a full hour, the chalk writing on the blackboard was filled, erased, and then rewritten.

Professor Smith initially remained seated in his chair, but later he simply stood up, picked up the chalk, and began writing faster and faster on the blackboard, with all sorts of advanced mathematical terms coming out one after another.

Lin Ying was keeping up. She had studied some of the theories in her previous life, while others she had instantly grasped thanks to the professor's insightful explanations. Smith wasn't simply imparting knowledge; he was forcing Lin Ying to find the path to truth for herself.

"Don't trust your intuition." Smith pointed to the last line of formula on the blackboard. "Intuition can lead you to the door of truth, but rigorous proof is what allows you to truly step inside."

At 11:00, it's halftime.

Lin Lanying sat in the living room, watching her daughter and the foreign professor walk out of the study. She couldn't understand the letters and symbols, but she could read faces.

The professor was delighted when the Filipino maid brought him steaming hot black tea and two baskets of exquisite Hong Kong-style dim sum.

Professor Smith leaned back on the sofa, picked up a piece of char siu pastry with a fork, and ate it with a look of great enjoyment on his face.

"Hong Kong is a really fascinating place," Smith chatted in English. "The food is delicious and very cheap. Life here is so comfortable for someone like me who lives on a pension. Right now, one pound is worth about fourteen Hong Kong dollars, which is much more affordable than in London."

Upon hearing about exchange rates, Lin Ying followed up with, "Professor, I'm curious, if I were to study mathematics at Cambridge now, what would the tuition be approximately for a year?"

Smith swallowed the pastry in his mouth: "A thirteen-year-old girl, and you're already planning your finances?"

"Yes," Lin Ying answered frankly, "I need to know exactly how much the entrance fee is for this door to the truth."

Smith smiled, pondered for a moment, and then provided a detailed account.

"The entry requirements are not low for international students. The tuition fee is about six thousand pounds a year."

Lin Ying mentally went over the exchange rate: six thousand pounds, multiplied by fourteen, equals eighty-four thousand Hong Kong dollars.

Smith continued, "Besides tuition, you need to prepare sufficient living expenses. Accommodation in Cambridge, food, textbooks, transportation, and warm clothing that's very expensive in the British winter. If you're frugal, it'll be four thousand pounds a year; if you don't want to live too cramped, it's best to calculate at five thousand pounds. In total, that's eleven thousand pounds a year."

Lin Lanying had been watching the two of them and noticed her daughter's expression change. She asked, "Aying, what did the professor say? What about ten thousand?"

Lin Ying paused, then turned to translate in Cantonese: "Mommy, the professor said that studying at Cambridge for a year will cost £11,000, including tuition and living expenses."

Lin Lanying had little concept of the British pound: "Then how much is that in Hong Kong dollars?"

"About 154,000 a year."

"154,000 a year?" Lin Lanying was stunned.

Although Smith couldn't understand Cantonese, he could see Lin Lanying's shock. He put down his fork and explained, "A three-year undergraduate degree costs 30,000 pounds. But that's just the theoretical middle-income."

Smith looked at Lin Ying and said, "You also need to factor in unexpected medical situations and international travel expenses. My personal advice is that you should have HK$500,000 in your account. That will ensure you can complete your three years of studies without worry."

Lin Ying was also a little stunned. 500,000 Hong Kong dollars, that's so expensive.

In an era where the average office worker earns only one or two thousand yuan a month, 500,000 yuan is an amount that many people cannot earn in their entire lives.

And this is just a ticket to an undergraduate degree.

She wants to pursue further studies, return to Beijing to conduct scientific research, build a top-notch team, manufacture chips, and start a technology company. It's a place where even tens of millions of dollars won't make a difference.

After hearing the final figure translated by Lin Ying, Lin Lanying remained silent for a long time.

She used to work at a sewing machine in a shop, altering clothes for neighbors for a few dollars. She never dreamed that going to study abroad would require investing 500,000 yuan of real money.

After a long while, Lin Lanying sighed, "No wonder they say it's hard for children from poor families to get ahead. Without money, they can't even get close to the door."

Smith nodded after hearing Lin Ying's retelling: "So you have to be more clear-headed than others. Money can buy you a ticket to step inside, but once you're inside, you have to walk the path yourself."

Lin Ying nodded solemnly: "I understand."

After a short break, the two returned to the study; at noon, the two-hour class ended on time.

Lin Lanying took out HK$1,500 from a hidden compartment in her handbag: the tuition fee for five days. She handed it to Professor Smith with both hands, and Professor Smith took the money and wrote a receipt.

After leaving the Western-style building, the mother and daughter boarded a taxi back to Taikoo Shing. They remained quiet throughout the journey.

The car cruised through the bustling streets of Central, with towering office buildings visible outside the window; bankers in suits and white-collar workers carrying briefcases went in and out through the glass revolving doors. This was the closest place in Hong Kong to money.

Lin Ying leaned against the car window, her mind filled with the number 500,000.

Back at Taikoo City, the two sat in the elevator when Lin Lanying suddenly turned her head and said, "Aying."

"Hmm? What's wrong, Mommy?"

"Before, Mommy had always had reservations about your screenwriting and film career," Lin Lanying said, expressing her concerns. "You're so young, and the entertainment industry is full of all sorts of people, and all you do are film movies about dead people, crime-solving, and melodramatic romances. I was always worried that you'd be too focused on making money too early and that the bosses outside would lead you astray."

Lin Ying listened quietly without saying a word.

Lin Lanying took her daughter's hand in return. "But after listening to that foreign professor calculate this today, Mommy has no objections at all."

"If you hadn't made so much money writing screenplays, let alone 500,000, our family wouldn't be able to come up with even 40,000. If we couldn't afford it, you'd only be able to go to university here. How could you be qualified to have Cambridge professors teaching you?"

Lin Lanying held Lin Ying's hand: "You're right, money is for paving the way. When you can make money, don't hesitate, make as much as you can! Whether you write comedies or melodramas, as long as you can put real money in your own pocket, you'll have the confidence to slam your fist on the table with others in the future!"

Lin Ying felt a surge of warmth in her heart and grasped Lin Lanying's hand in return: "Mommy, are you really not afraid that I'll write those mindless, melodramatic dramas anymore?"

Lin Lanying glared at her: "You're still scared! So you have to listen to Teacher Zhou and write under a pseudonym; we'll make money outside, but you have to protect your reputation cleanly!"

"I'll listen to Mommy."

I pushed open the door to my home.

Hearing the door open, Lin Qian held up his test paper: "Mommy! Sister! I've finished one and a half pages of math, and I've also done my English reading! I really didn't touch any comics!"

Lin Lanying changed her shoes, walked over, and glanced at the table: "Did you circle the wrong answers?"

"I've circled it." Lin Qian pushed the test paper to Lin Ying. "Sister, can you take a look at it for me?"

Lin Ying glanced through the test paper. There weren't many mistakes, and the steps she wrote weren't perfunctory.

She picked up a red pen and marked the wrong answers: "I'll explain these formulas to you tonight. Also, since you've set your sights on that boys' school in Wan Chai, starting today, your time playing the Famicom is halved."

Lin Qian let out a painful groan, clutching his chest: "Half?!"

Lin Lanying chimed in, "You think it's too little? If you fail your high school entrance exam, we'll cancel your game console and send you downstairs to wash the dishes at the herbal tea shop."

Lin Qian sat up straight instantly: "Half the reduction is excellent! Half the reduction is very scientific!"

Lin Ying laughed out loud, picked up her schoolbag, and walked back to her bedroom.

She sat down at her desk and laid out the three proofs Professor Smith had left behind. Then, she reached out and pressed the power button on the computer.

The Gold Rush

Originally, she wrote this script simply to repay the favor her uncle Su Zhiming had done for her; but now, it's not just about repaying a favor, she wants to use this script to make even more money.

Lin Ying typed the first line below the title:

In this city, everyone thinks they're striking gold; but the real gold mine is never underground, but in people's hearts.