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Failure Is Your True Fortune

·11 mins
Author
Master Chi
Renowned Chinese wisdom teacher sharing timeless insights on wealth, destiny, Feng Shui, BaZi, and the art of living well.

(Today’s article — Master Chi strongly urges you to watch the video at the end after reading the text.)

In the course of Master Chi’s destiny readings (命理), there is no shortage of extraordinary and unusual life patterns. Among the most striking are those I call “heaven-blessed golden destiny” (天赐金贵) — individuals who, by any ordinary measure, represent what people dream of as the ideal “life winner.”

Last month, for instance, a friend of considerable standing asked me to look at the road ahead for his child. Without getting into the specifics of this young man’s parents — suffice to say that from the moment he entered the workforce, the positions available to him were already beyond what ordinary people could ever reach. What the world calls “top-tier” — elite financial institutions, internet giants, property conglomerates — he looks at all of them with indifference. His career path runs straight through what I call “policy platforms.”

What is a policy platform? These are institutions you will likely never encounter in everyday life — you may barely hear their names. But once you rise to a position of real authority at the forefront of your own industry, you will find yourself, in certain quiet and unremarkable settings, crossing paths with these people. And instinctively, you will sense they inhabit an entirely different world from yours. Think of institutions like the National Development Bank or the Agricultural Credit Trust. Outsiders find these names dull and unglamorous. But insiders know — these are not places for the self-made who are hungry to make their mark. When you encounter them, don’t ask questions. Keep your head down and walk on. Like Chen Gege — her trajectory is aimed squarely at “board member of a financial establishment.” And if you observe carefully, you’ll find that many people of true power and real potential tend to come from backgrounds that look, on the surface, very plain. That plainness is a disguise. Underneath is solid gold — it’s just that outsiders can’t read the signs. But let’s set that aside for now. We’ll come back to it another time.

Today’s subject is this young man himself. In a word: his life, like that of many with a heaven-blessed golden destiny, contains almost no turbulence worth speaking of. And yes — this is exactly what Master Chi has always said. Truly elite families do not entertain the idea of letting their children “go out and forge their own path,” because once you step outside that circle, everything beyond it — every tier, every rank — is no more than cricket fighting. What is there to forge? This includes, yes, every celebrated titan of commerce that ordinary people look up to in envy. That too, is merely cricket fighting on a grander scale.

So understand this: the best future is not something you fight for and then receive. In truth, the best future is one that was already arranged long ago.

And yet — precisely because of this — my friend was carrying a look of quiet worry. Master Chi understood the moment he saw it. These young people, regardless of their background, all face one single, potentially fatal problem: because their entire lives have been so carefully protected and cherished, they find it almost impossible to accumulate what can only come from genuine failure.

Yes. With all the experience and wisdom I have gathered over the years, today’s article comes down to one thing: I want you to understand that failure — for a human life — is an extraordinary treasure. No amount of money can buy it. No amount of money should trade it away.

Many people cannot grasp this. Let me explain slowly.

First, we must understand why ordinary working people — the nine-to-five crowd — hold such a visceral aversion to failure. For them, the logic is clean and simple. Failure, in their experience, means nothing but loss: loss of resources, deterioration, disgrace, and returning to zero. Whether it is a career failure, a marriage collapse, or a losing investment — it amounts to having their immense effort wiped out completely. The aversion and anxiety that follows is entirely understandable.

Now, that observation applies to the conventional working class. And what is their defining human trait? It is this: a reluctance to reflect, and an absence of ambition.

But in real life, you will find that businesspeople, speculators, and those who move in circles of real power tend to share a common pattern: as long as the failure is not one that utterly destroys them, their second rise is almost universally faster, broader, and more formidable than their previous success.

Why?

Failure is like a fate-ordained forced retreat — a mandatory course in self-examination. It pulls out every belief and value you have ever held and lays them bare beneath the sun. It is precisely because of failure that you are jolted awake from the intoxication of a favorable major life cycle (大运, decade luck) — and you suddenly realize: there are so many weaknesses and blind spots in me that I never saw.

So look at this: why is it that among equally successful people, there is such a fundamental difference in temperament between those who soared without ever stumbling, and those who have known the cold indifference of the world after rising and falling? The former tend to be brimming with confidence, heedless of cost. The latter are steady, measured, quiet — they plan before they move. Neither is superior to the other. But if Master Chi had to choose who to befriend and work alongside, I would choose the latter without hesitation.

This is also why, when I analyze a destiny framework (格局), if I see someone whose fortune has been consistently and extraordinarily smooth — do not be concerned, and do not doubt it — I say not “possibly,” not “perhaps,” not “probably,” but absolutely and beyond question: somewhere in their life ahead, a great fall is waiting. And when that fall comes, it often takes everything they have left just to survive it, let alone rise again.

This is precisely why Master Chi advocates so strongly for people to take risks before the age of forty — to try, to strive, to gamble boldly in every meaningful contest — without counting the cost. When you are young, ambition is fuel. Where there is ambition, there is resilience. And with resilience, when you fall, you will get up. When you can get up, failure becomes part of your story — not the ending. Great achievement? Let it come after forty. There is no rush whatsoever.

But the frustrating truth is this: what is learned only on paper remains shallow. No matter how sharp your intuition, until you have actually lived through that state, you will never truly understand what I am saying. You can see this clearly in my community: among members of the same age, those who have truly fallen and been hurt hard ask questions and offer insights from an entirely different level of depth. It is because fate once pressed your face into the floor that you know how filthy and rough the floor actually is. And only then do you begin to see things that were invisible before.

So remember: suffering is not the treasure. Failure is.

Now let’s return to the young man at the beginning of this article. When a person has been raised in the warmth of total love and parental protection — when their entire path has been set along the “optimal route” — what do you think will happen when they eventually encounter the inevitable setbacks that life brings to everyone?

Understand: the world of sons and daughters from great families is a clean and dignified stage. But the moment it touches worldly struggle, that handsome, graceful face will — under pressure — contort into something that invites only revulsion. In the language of destiny reading, this is what I call the “breaking point” and the “critical challenge” in the life pattern. And the reason they cannot handle it is simple: they have never faced an opponent before.

This brings Master Chi to Jia Yueting. I want to speak about him not as a personal acquaintance, but purely from personal observation. This perspective does not come from the mockery and sneering that flooded the media after his fall. It comes from someone who has himself failed, and who has watched countless others fail.

Understand this: Jia Yueting is the single most instructive, most worth-studying example of the last decade.

Because what I see in him is not the label that everyone else has plastered on him — “business failure,” “fraudster,” and the rest. Labels like that are blunt instruments for crude categorization. Jia’s original sin is one, and only one: he lost. Life has no “what ifs.” Life offers no do-overs. It will not give him a chance to choose again. He lost, and that is that. The victors write history; the fallen are worth less than dogs. There is nothing to argue.

But I want you to remember — and remember clearly — this one thing:

Today, as everyone mocks him, look carefully. Because the day you fail, every single person around you will mock you in exactly the same way. Hindsight is a skill that everyone possesses. And your failure becomes their best evidence that they were clever, that they had foresight. Trust me: life’s great sins are almost entirely fabricated and imposed upon you by others. And precisely when you are at your weakest — when you need to gather yourself and rebuild — the world is least likely to offer you warmth.

If, in your darkest hour, you have a partner who truly understands you, parents who get it, friends who stand by you — people who, knowing you have failed and failed badly, still come to encourage and care for you — then you are genuinely blessed. That is what a truly flourishing six relations (六亲) palace looks like.

The reality, for most who fail, is a crowd of petty, sneering people ready to pile on.

If that sounds abstract, let me make it concrete. The moment you fail and fall, you will immediately start hearing:

“Ha! I told you — you weren’t cut out for this.”

“You should have listened to me from the start. I said it again and again.”

“You clearly didn’t have the ability for this — why did you even try?”

And then, of course, the more direct versions:

“Idiot. Fool. Useless. Incompetent. You know nothing. Con artist. Scum.”

Don’t worry — Master Chi has heard all of these. When my own fortunes collapsed, I heard them from countless people. I have since watched countless others have those same words spat at them. And I am certain: if your life ever reaches a height, it will know a fall. And when it does, you will hear these words too.

But do not be afraid. Because I also know this with equal certainty: you are not an idiot. You are not incompetent. You are not a con artist. You are not scum.

You simply failed. And because you failed, you need time — like a fierce animal that has crawled into its den to lick its wounds — to recover and heal. Outside your cave, the petty voices will always be there, cold and sneering. Hear me on this: ignore them. Just heal. Get back on the road. And in the end, carve out something that belongs to you.

Every mockery and cold stare you endure today will, in that moment, transform instantly into applause and flattery. There is nothing worth fighting over. This is simply how people are. Most of the world follows power — make yourself strong enough, and they will rush to tell you how wonderful you smell.

So, Master Chi does not know whether Jia Yueting will rise again. But I do know this: when a man labeled a fraudster — his empire destroyed, his wealth gone, his marriage shattered — continues against all odds to try and build something new, he may still be every bit the fraud they say he is. But the resilience and stubborn persistence in that man? That is something every single person standing on the shore laughing at him owes their respect.

Truly. Fate is a ruthless thing, and it is also absurdly surreal.

A scheme becomes a miracle precisely because it was born in the frozen earth of impossibility.

A hero becomes a legend precisely because he never cared what the jackals thought.

Finally: I know there will be twists ahead, and things too painful to put into words. But I believe in you — you stubborn, unyielding bastard — that you will one day raise your hand and deliver a resounding slap across the face of every last person who looked down on you.

And then, watching them force out their smiles, you will understand at last the true nature of this world.

Be well. Be fortunate. Be strong.