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Two days passed in the blink of an eye, and it was December 31st.

Today is also the last day of 1982.

Queens, New York, is the most typical and mainstream residential area for ordinary citizens in New York City. It is also the most populous and down-to-earth "working-class neighborhood" in New York.

At this moment, in an ordinary neighborhood in Queens, Soros sat on a simple sofa in a two-bedroom apartment, looking out at the heavy snow and sighing.

Just a few months ago, he was living in a villa in Manhattan's wealthy neighborhood, with a driver, an assistant for shopping, and frequenting the most exclusive social events on Wall Street.

Now, he's huddled in a small apartment in Queens that rents for less than $800 a month, and he doesn't even dare to turn the heating up too high. Last month's heating bill made him feel the pinch for days.

It only took six months to fall from the clouds to the bottom.

Even his wife officially divorced him last week, ending their 22-year marriage.

The two met in England and had three children together. In fact, even without his bankruptcy, their marriage would have lasted until 1983. The reason was that Soros was focused on the Quantum Fund, which required him to travel around the world for long periods of time, resulting in them being separated for long periods of time. Furthermore, their values ​​differed, and the two had long since drifted apart.

Bankruptcy was just the last straw that broke the camel's back in this marriage. His wife was unwilling to sink with a man burdened with hundreds of millions of dollars in debt, and even less willing to let the future of their three children be dragged down by this huge debt.

Soros did not try to stop her. He understood his wife's choice and even thought she did the right thing.

A bankrupt man has no right to demand that others suffer with him.

He was sitting alone on the sofa, with a bottle of vodka on the coffee table. The vodka cost five dollars a bottle.

In the past, he would never have looked down on such cheap goods; he only drank high-end red wine.

But now, this strong liquor not only numbs him but also warms his body, saving him some heating costs.

Soros unscrewed the bottle cap, poured himself half a glass, and tilted his head back to take a gulp.

The spicy liquid slid down my throat, a fire ignited in my stomach, and I felt genuinely warmer.

He put down his cup and his gaze fell on the old television set, which he had found at a secondhand store.

Although he received a decent salary at a small fund company, most of his monthly salary was actually used by the bank to pay off his debts, leaving him with only a small amount to barely make ends meet.

The television screen was showing a pre-New Year's Eve countdown program in Times Square, where the square was packed with people, and everyone's face was filled with anticipation for the New Year.

Soros looked at the cheering crowd and a bitter smile appeared on his lips.

These ordinary people at least still have a job, a home, and a New Year to look forward to.

And he, this once powerful financial tycoon on Wall Street, now doesn't even know where he'll be tomorrow.

He owes more than $100 million in personal debt to Middle Eastern conglomerates. Most of the money he earns each month as an advisor to a few small hedge funds goes to paying off his debts. After deducting rent, utilities, and food, the remaining money isn't even enough to buy a decent piece of clothing.

With a debt of over 100 million US dollars, he is now over fifty years old. Even if he earns tens of thousands of US dollars a month, he still can't pay it off even if he doesn't eat or drink.

Moreover, it was impossible for him to earn tens of thousands of dollars a month. The advisory fees from those small hedge funds amounted to only a meager twenty or thirty thousand dollars a month. After deducting taxes and paying off debts, what was left was barely enough for him to eke out a living in this dilapidated neighborhood.

Bankruptcy can truly change a person completely.

It's not just a lifestyle, it's a mindset!
He couldn't help but think of one person, that young Chinese-American, Lin Haoran.

If he hadn't spread rumors and manipulated public opinion to try and drag the other party down so that the Mexican debt crisis would have erupted sooner, perhaps he would still be that powerful financial tycoon today.

Unfortunately, there are no "what ifs" in this world.

Soros chuckled self-deprecatingly. He had schemed and plotted countless times in his life, but in the end, he was defeated by a young man.

Ironically, the two had kept to themselves, but he was the one who struck first. He spread rumors to try and drag Lin Haoran into the mess, and Lin Haoran was merely retaliating.

"I lost, and I admit defeat wholeheartedly!" Soros muttered to himself in the empty room, his voice filled with an indescribable bitterness.

Soros, in his fifties, was not considered old, so he never gave up. He wanted to join top investment banks, but every time he submitted his resume, it went unanswered, and every time he asked someone to deliver his message, it was politely rejected.

He always believed that even with a debt of over 100 million US dollars, so what? As long as he was given a large platform to showcase his abilities, he would be able to make a comeback sooner or later!

But Wall Street has a good memory; they remember Soros's past glories as well as his final crushing defeat.

In the eyes of top investment banks, he was no longer a partner to cooperate with, but a time bomb that could be detonated at any time.

“Nobody’s willing to give me a chance.” Soros took another gulp of vodka, the spicy liquid burning his throat and his pride.

He used to be at the top of the pyramid, but now he can't even find a decent job. How ironic!

Just then, the phone on the coffee table rang.

He glanced at the caller ID; it was an unfamiliar number.

After hesitating for a moment, he answered the call anyway.

"Is this Mr. Soros?" A steady male voice came from the other end of the phone.

"I am, are you?"

“I am John Reid, Vice President of Citibank. I apologize for bothering you, and I hope it has not affected your New Year plans.”

Soros was stunned.

Citibank?

Vice President?

Although he hadn't had any major collaborations with Citibank before, he had been on Wall Street for decades and of course knew who John Reed was—the future head of Citibank and one of the most powerful figures on Wall Street.

Even six months ago, the other party was someone he had to look up to.

Why would someone call someone like that?

"Mr. John, what can I do for you?" Soros's voice carried an undisguised hint of anticipation.

John Reed smiled and said, "Mr. Soros, I wonder if you have any free time right now? If you do, you can come to my office. I'd like to have a chat with you!"

Soros's hand holding the microphone trembled slightly.

Now?

Go to Citibank headquarters?

He glanced subconsciously at the swirling snowflakes outside the window and said without hesitation, "Yes, Mr. John, I'll be right there. Please wait for me for an hour!"

Soros had a vague idea of ​​the other party's intentions.

He wished he were at Citibank headquarters right now, but he couldn't. His current residence in Queens was quite far from Manhattan, and it would take almost an hour to get to the vicinity of Citibank headquarters by subway.

As soon as the call ended, Soros jumped up from the sofa. In his haste, his knee slammed into the corner of the coffee table, making him wince in pain.

But he didn't care about any of that. He rushed into the bedroom, opened the old wardrobe, and rummaged through it for clothes he could wear out.

There were very few clothes hanging in the closet. The court had sealed off his villa, so he didn't have time to move his belongings out. The most valuable suit in the closet was the dark blue Armani suit he was wearing at the time, which is still hanging there now, becoming his only remaining dignity.

Soros took out the suit. He had worn it for more than two years. The cuffs were slightly faded, but the overall shape was still intact.

He carefully ironed it with a steam iron to make sure there were no wrinkles, then put on his white shirt, tied his tie, and tidied his hair in front of the mirror.

The person in the mirror had graying temples and wrinkles around their eyes, but their eyes still held a hint of resentment.

"At least it looks presentable," Soros muttered to himself, picking up the black wool coat and walking out the door.

The snow was still falling heavily outside, and the wind was biting cold. Soros hunched his shoulders and walked quickly toward the subway station a few hundred meters away.

In the past, luxury private cars would be parked in front of his door, so he wouldn't have to walk to squeeze onto the subway.

The subway stations in Queens are old and dimly lit, with only a few passengers waiting on the platform. Everyone is wrapped up tightly in their clothes and huddled in a corner to avoid the wind.

Soros, wearing a mask, stood on the platform, looking at the dark tunnel, a complex mix of emotions welling up inside him.

Six months ago, he traveled in a stretch Lincoln, but now he has to squeeze onto the subway.

This kind of disparity is not something everyone can bear. But he had no time for self-pity, because Citibank was waiting for him, and that was his last hope.

The subway roared in, and Soros boarded, finding a corner seat to sit down. He watched as a black man next to him stole something from a white girl, but he dared not utter a sound.

There weren't many people in the carriage, and the heating was on full blast, so Soros gradually warmed up.

The train rumbled through Queens, crossed the East River, and entered Manhattan.

About an hour later, Soros stood downstairs at the Citibank headquarters building.

He looked up at the building with its 45-degree sloping roof, took a deep breath, unfastened his mask, and pushed open the door to go inside.

"Isn't that Mr. George Soros from the Quantum Fund? What's he doing at Citibank?"

"I heard he's doing really badly now. Many large financial companies have rejected him. Someone even saw him on the subway. Life is so unpredictable!"

"A bankrupt person dares to come to Citibank? I wonder what he's doing here? Is he begging Citibank for a job?"

Several Citibank employees were whispering in the lobby. Although their voices were not loud, they were still clearly heard by Soros in the empty hall.

His expression remained unchanged. Over the past six months, he had long since grown accustomed to the strange looks and whispers directed at him from the outside world.

He had tasted the bitterness of falling from the clouds to the bottom of the valley enough; what difference would a few more idle words make?

Soros walked to the front desk expressionlessly, his steps steady and his back straight!

"Is this Mr. Soros? President John has instructed me to take you to his office." When Soros arrived at the front desk, the receptionist, who had already received instructions from John Reed, spoke directly.

"Okay, thank you for your help!" Soros felt a little better.

He followed the receptionist into the elevator. As the elevator doors closed, he peeked through the gap in the closing doors and saw the employees' children in the lobby whispering to each other, their eyes full of curiosity and gossip.

Soros withdrew his gaze, secretly vowing: One day, he would shut these people up!

Soon, Soros arrived at the upper floors of Citibank.

He had been here once before, hoping to reach a major cooperation agreement with Citibank. So he personally went to talk to Walter Riston, the chairman of Citibank, but the deal did not go through.

The receptionist knocked on the door.

"Come in." A voice came from inside the office; it was John Reed.

Soros walked in and looked at the Citibank's second-in-command, who was much younger than him, and a complex emotion welled up in his heart.

There was a time when he was not as good as the other party, but he was not bad either, and he frequented the offices of the presidents of top financial institutions.

Now, however, he appears here in such a disheveled state, wearing a suit that he washes once a week and smelling of cheap vodka.

“Good morning, Mr. Soros.” John Reed stood up from behind his desk, walked around the desk, and extended his hand.

Soros quickly extended his hand and shook hands with John Reed.

“Mr. John, thank you for the invitation.” Soros’s voice carried a hint of sincerity.

John Reed smiled, gestured to the sofa, and said, "Sit down, don't be shy. What would you like to drink? Coffee? Black tea?"

Soros sat down on the sofa and said, "Coffee, please, thank you."

John Reed pressed the intercom on the table and instructed his secretary to bring in two cups of coffee.

After putting down the microphone, John Reed sat on the sofa and calmly looked at the man who had once dominated Wall Street.

After listening to Lin Haoran's suggestion, he thought about it carefully and felt that it made a lot of sense.

Throughout Wall Street, there are very few talents like Soros.

Moreover, the other party has decades of experience; it would be a waste not to use such talent.

Therefore, he spoke with Citigroup Chairman Walter Riston about the matter that afternoon.

After listening to John Reed's report, Walter Riston remained silent for a long time.

Then, the other party said, "John, you know Soros's current situation. He owes Middle Eastern financial groups more than $100 million, and his style of doing things is too extreme."

While he is indeed a rare talent, if someone like him joins Citigroup and is entrusted with managing a fund worth hundreds of millions of dollars, any mistake he makes at any stage could severely damage Citigroup's reputation. Are you sure you want to take that risk?

John Reed's response at the time was simple: "Mr. Walter, I know the risks, but I also know that Soros's talent is real. He was right to short Mexico, and the subsequent outbreak of the Mexican debt crisis proved that. He only lost because of timing and offending Mr. Lin Haoran."

If we set clear boundaries for him and provide him with risk control support, his capabilities can be fully utilized by Citibank.

Walter Riston replied, "You trust him that much? Or do you trust Lin Haoran's judgment?"

John Reed frankly stated at the time, "Both. I trust Mr. Lin's vision and my own judgment. Mr. Walter, Citigroup Asset Management needs a fund manager who can fight tough battles."

Our current talent pool is too conservative, too cautious; we lack those who dare to test the limits of the market—Soros is that kind of person.

Ultimately, Walter Ryston was persuaded by John Reed.

Most importantly, Walter Riston was willing to delegate authority; he was already considering retirement and couldn't be involved in everything.

Since John Reed, the future leader, was willing to endorse Soros, he didn't want to obstruct him too much.

The knocking brought John Reed and Soros to their senses.

The secretary came in, carrying two cups of coffee.

After the secretary closed the door again, Soros couldn't help but ask, "Mr. John, may I ask what brings you here today?"

Although he guessed that the other party might want him to join Citibank, it was definitely not something he should say.

John Reed picked up his coffee cup, took a slow sip, and then smiled and said, "Mr. Lin strongly recommends that you join Citibank. He said that your talent should not be buried and that Citibank should give you a chance to make a comeback."

I've given his suggestion serious consideration, and I've also discussed it with Mr. Walter Riston. We both feel that Citigroup Asset Management needs someone like you.

Soros's hand holding the coffee cup trembled slightly, and the cup made a soft clinking sound on the saucer.

He lowered his head, staring at the dark brown liquid in the glass, and remained silent for a long time.

"Mr. Lin, are you referring to Mr. Lin Haoran?" he asked, somewhat incredulously.

His relationship with Lin Haoran can be described as irreconcilable.

He spread rumors to drag the other party down, and Lin Haoran retaliated by bankrupting him.

In the context of Wall Street, such animosity could easily turn two people into lifelong enemies.

But now, John Reed tells him that Lin Haoran is strongly recommending him to senior executives at Citibank.

“Yes, Mr. Lin Haoran.” John Reed put down his coffee cup, his tone very certain. “Mr. Soros, you may find it hard to believe, but it is true.”

Mr. Lin said that your talent should not be buried, and Citibank should give you a chance to make a comeback. He also said that there are no eternal enemies on Wall Street, only eternal interests.

Rather than letting you wander outside, it's better to have Citibank bring you under its wing.

Soros fell silent.

He hadn't expected Lin Haoran to be so tolerant and magnanimous.

If it were him, he couldn't do it.

During this time, he harbored a great deal of hatred for Lin Haoran.

After all, it was Lin Haoran who bankrupted him and made him lose everything.

But at this moment, he suddenly felt that his hatred was somewhat ridiculous. He was the one who struck first, and Lin Haoran was just retaliating.

And now, in his most desperate moment, the one who extends a helping hand is the very person he schemed against.

He never imagined that Lin Haoran would reappear in his life in this way, not as an enemy, but as a benefactor. (End of Chapter)