Chapter 50: Returning to 2002, There Are Too Many Ways to Make Money.

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P.S. I’m already speechless. The manager called me tonight and said the laptop couldn’t be repaired. It’s been nearly twenty days. Watermark ad test. Watermark ad test. I really don’t want to say anything more. I’m buying a new computer tomorrow. I’m never going back to that shop.

After filming the commercial, Mo Mo suddenly had no idea what to do with himself.

As a time traveler, he still had no football to play. The thought left him feeling rather miserable.

He wanted to enter the Trainer System and start training, but Mino was right there, watching him like a hawk.

“Mino, do you really like money that much?”

Mo Mo rubbed his head, looking somewhat depressed. Was it really such a big deal that he did not want to go to Paris Saint-Germain?

“Who doesn’t like money?”

Mino rolled her eyes at him, looking somewhat gloomy. Come to think of it, Mo Mo had nearly a million in savings by now, hadn’t he?

Euros? Dream on. Naturally, it was yuan.

“Mino, let me tell you something from the heart. For me, making money is as easy as turning over my hand!”

Mino rolled her eyes again and snapped angrily, “You brat, what nonsense are you talking about? Do you think money is that easy to earn?”

Mo Mo burst out laughing when he heard her.

“Don’t be so sure. Maybe it won’t be this easy a few years from now, but at the moment, I have plenty of ways to make money.”

He was telling the absolute truth. Mo Mo might not have been good with the written word, but Baidu had not gone public yet—it would in 2005. If he bought some shares now, who knew how many times his investment would multiply?

Jack Ma? He seemed to have already founded Alibaba, but Mo Mo could still invite him to dinner and invest in Taobao, which had been launched in May 2003.

He could start a chain of Internet cafés, hotels, or supermarkets. He could even use companies such as Gome Electrical Appliances and Volvo as references.

And if that still did not work, he could produce television programs. Running Man, for example—the Korean version had not even begun yet. Countless ideas filled his mind.

If he wanted to be lazy, he could simply imitate Qidian Chinese Network and set up a website. The initial investment would not be very large. If he remembered correctly, the site had started with only around a million yuan.

He could bring such great authors as Dream of Divine Machine, Tang Jia San Shao, and I Eat Tomatoes under his banner. Wouldn’t that be another way to make a fortune?

And if all else failed, he could save up more money, buy more land, and sell it once prices rose. That was a guaranteed profit.

“You brat, what are you grinning foolishly about?”

Mino obviously could not stand watching Mo Mo giggle to himself. She poked him, and he raised his head, his eyes filled with an expression that seemed to say, What could you possibly understand? He looked exceedingly pleased with himself.

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“Mino, listen to me. Tell me whether this sounds feasible.”

Mo Mo launched into a long explanation, giving Mino a comprehensive account of his plans to invest in Taobao and Baidu, establish a Qidian-style literary website, open a chain of hotels, create television programs, and pursue a host of other ventures.

Mino listened with a dark expression. When he finally finished, she slapped a hand onto his shoulder.

“Mo Mo, are you saying you don’t want to play football anymore?”

Mo Mo looked up blankly. He did not understand what she meant.

“I don’t know how successful any of these ideas would be, but if you actually did all this, would you still have the time or the energy to play football properly?”

Mo Mo looked rather innocent. He raised his head and stared at Mino.

“Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do?”

Mino was so angry that she laughed. Pointing at him, she said, “You little brat! Me? I’m supposed to do all this? Am I not still meant to be your agent?”

Mo Mo refused to back down.

“Can’t we hire someone to handle it?”

Hire someone? Who? And who could they trust? Mo Mo had no relatives or friends, while Mino was not even Chinese. What were they supposed to do?

“All right, just concentrate on playing football. Take on more commercials and endorsements. As for investing in Baidu and Taobao, you can do that. Baidu should be easy enough. As for Jack Ma… I’ll try contacting him too.”

Seeing Mino on the verge of losing her temper, Mo Mo quietly buried his plan to have her establish a football club in the back of his mind. If he said it aloud, she would surely curse him to death.

Meanwhile, as Mo Mo was thinking through all these plans, his devoted fan—or rather, a devoted fan of the Chinese national team—Guo Xiaojun was approaching graduation.

This would be an opportunity to change both their destinies. It was simply not yet time.

Mo Mo and Mino returned to the hotel. Originally, Mo Mo had not been particularly interested in opening a novel website or pursuing similar ventures.

But Mino’s words had thoroughly awakened his competitive spirit.

Back then, a considerable number of people with Internet access were either exceptionally talented or already successful in their careers. After all, only people like that could afford computers.

Mo Mo opened Baidu and clicked into his own forum. This time, he did not enter the Player Chat System. Instead, he genuinely entered the Mo Mo Forum.

As he browsed through the posts, he suddenly saw one written by Guo Xiaojun.

“Graduation Is Just Around the Corner.”

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Guo Xiaojun was now in his fourth year of university. By June of the following year at the latest, he would receive his diploma. At this point, he could not resist making a post about reaching his final year, indulging in a little sentimental reflection.

Mo Mo read the post. Guo Xiaojun was the moderator of his forum and appeared to be one of his most devoted fans.

From the wording, it seemed that Guo Xiaojun had been following him ever since his days in the German Second Division.

An idea began to form in Mo Mo’s mind.

Beckham’s Free Kicks: I’m also a senior. Liking the original poster’s post.

The King of Headers: I’m a university student too. I’m studying the rather obscure field of e-commerce. Finding a job afterward is going to be difficult.

I Back Klose: I’m a freshman this year. Congratulations in advance, senior.

Carefully Selecting Winning Bets: Congratulations to the original poster on entering society’s great vat of dye.

Ibrahimovic’s Taekwondo: Go play football, poster! Wearing glasses isn’t a problem. I seem to remember that one superstar was nearsighted too.

German League Yang Chen: He’s getting old. If I can see the World Cup once in my lifetime, I’ll be satisfied.

Xxxxx: I’m Mo Mo. Let’s talk, poster!

Do You Know Drogba?: The person above says he’s Mo Mo. Then I’m Beckham.

Guo Xiaojun had clearly noticed Xxxxx. At first, he did not believe it either, but for some reason, he chose to send a private message.

(Only the original poster could receive and reply to private messages.)

Mo Mo Never Keeps Silent (Guo Xiaojun): How can you prove that you’re Mo Mo?

Mo Mo froze when he saw Guo Xiaojun’s first message. Wasn’t this an impossible question?

How could anyone prove that they were themselves?

Xxxxx: Ha ha, I suppose I’ll have to send you a photo of myself.

Mo Mo Never Keeps Silent: A photo doesn’t necessarily prove anything. You might have taken it from the Internet.

A large, awkward expression appeared on Mo Mo’s face.

This kid was far too cautious!