Preface: One of humanity’s greatest misconceptions is the belief that a high destiny framework (格局) must be matched with grand ambitions — so all the carp scramble to leap the Dragon Gate, leaving nothing but wreckage in their wake. The truth is, the carp is the finest among fish. Through dedicated, focused development, it can achieve enlightenment and success without ever leaping the Dragon Gate.
A few days ago, a young man came to visit me by reputation, seeking my read on his personal destiny framework.
It’s an interesting story. He was referred by a mutual friend — someone who himself is a well-known figure in Shanghai’s entertainment industry, with four or five nightclubs under his belt, all top-tier venues.
This young man, on the other hand, is one of his suppliers. His business is providing all manner of supplies to these clubs — alcohol, food, and various other consumables.
So when this young man came to consult Master Chi, he seemed almost excessively humble. He felt that, compared to the other guests at the table, his “rank” wasn’t high enough.
But this was a misconception. Among everyone seated there, if you measured purely by daily net profit, he might well have come out on top — and with the most stability at that. That, too, is a form of excellence.
Master Chi has always had a particular fondness and admiration for this kind of grounded, practical doer.
In our era, there’s a peculiar phenomenon: almost every young person with even a little capital and ambition seems to charge, without exception, toward three great domains — finance, real estate, and government careers — as if only within these fields can one’s talents truly be honored.
But in reality? They clearly overestimate their own abilities while underestimating how treacherous these waters run. The result is a crowd of people stuck in awkward, in-between positions — unable to advance, unwilling to retreat.
Regardless of their destiny framework, a real estate executive nearing forty earns perhaps a few million a year at best. Ask him to walk away from that? He probably won’t. But can he truly settle for the role? That restless heart won’t let him. So he’s always brokering side deals, doing middleman work, dreaming of one big score that will finally change his life.
As for finance — don’t even get me started. People in their forties tend to enter a “collective delusion period.” The typical state is an inflated sense of their own capabilities — as if even the biggest platforms can no longer contain their greatness.
Yet how many of these people actually come away with anything real?
This is precisely why Master Chi has always had such deep respect for the “practical doers” as a group.
Because these are people who can genuinely let go of the hollow pursuit of “respectability” and “face” — and step onto the solid, real path.
“Respectability” and “wealth” are, more often than not, sworn enemies. There has never existed a career in this world where you can casually point at the horizon with an air of authority and then quietly harvest the fruits of battles fought elsewhere.
From the day you first set foot in any industry, what awaits you is round after round of brutal, close-quarters combat.
In that process, you’ll discover that most of the “noble qualities” you once believed in are, at the very beginning, completely useless. What you’re fighting with is raw endurance, willpower, and whether you’re willing to bend.
That said, I want to share two very interesting examples. The first involves a client of mine from Cushman & Wakefield — let’s call him Xiao Sheng.
First, you should understand that people who come out of real estate consulting firms like Cushman & Wakefield are, almost without exception, a group who look down on the world. They command solid salaries, carry impressive business cards, move through luxury hotels and high-end conferences, and deal in transactions worth hundreds of millions.
What they often fail to notice is this: the thing driving all of that is not them — it’s the four words “Cushman & Wakefield” printed on their card.
And yet, so many of them never see it. One day, the realization hits: without the platform, they are nothing.
But Xiao Sheng was different. After leaving Cushman & Wakefield, what he did next was something none of you would expect: he opened a fruit store.
Yes — the kind you see everywhere along the street. A shop modeled after one of those orchard-style fruit boutiques, opened for two or three hundred thousand yuan.
Normally, at this point in the story, I would launch into some kind of “wealth-building playbook” — talking about his location strategy, his sourcing channels, his methods, and so on.
But none of that is the point. None of it is the core.
The core is this: this store was being operated and managed by a smart person from Cushman & Wakefield.
If you haven’t grasped the full weight of that sentence, let me walk you through the logic, and it will become clear.
First, understand that many industries in this world are, in fact, quite crude and unglamorous — and yet extremely easy to enter. Not because you’re so exceptional, but because your competitors are genuinely mediocre.
They may have more years of experience than you. But the moment you find your footing, your ability advantage will crush their head start in an instant.
Think of it this way: when you charge into any field, what ultimately determines your success is not only who you are — it also depends greatly on who you’re up against.
If you go into finance, your competitors are often people who are just as capable as you — or far more so, with far greater resources and connections. That kind of environment dictates that breaking through requires either extraordinary luck or a stroke of fate.
But if you enter the fruit retail market — as long as you’re not going in with a “I’m going to build a massive chain” mentality, and instead start patiently with one small, solid store — your odds of winning multiply geometrically.
Yes, you’ll still face all the usual challenges: location, management, sourcing, after-sales, operations.
But who are your competitors? People who never received a proper education in their lives, who built everything purely through accumulated experience — ordinary folk who have never thought systematically about any of it.
I mean no disrespect to those who work hard. But the reality is plain: you are sharper than them. You have more intuition. That is simply a given.
The result? What takes them five years to figure out, you can absorb and put to use in one year — or even six months.
In other words: your intelligence and core capabilities place you in a position of total dominance over your competitors in this kind of field.
You could even say that while entering this industry will require tolerating a certain amount of pressure and friction, your winning edge is clear: your caliber is higher than theirs — and that means you will eventually win.
Now I ask you: how many people, once they’ve achieved even a little success, are willing to go back and earn money the “hard way”?
Don’t worry — “hard” is relative. What feels grueling for someone at the bottom of the ladder might be practically effortless for you.
Back to Xiao Sheng: today, he owns around ten stores in busy commercial districts, plus six or seven more in newer development zones. His annual net profit — from retail sales combined with supplying residential communities and surrounding service businesses — runs into the tens of millions.
And here’s a crucial characteristic of this kind of fruit store: once you open one, the verdict comes in fast.
If a store isn’t working after three months, you close it and move on. Your total losses? Rent, labor, renovation — add it all up, you’re talking maybe one or two hundred thousand yuan. But if it works, it becomes like a nail driven firmly into the ground — a stable, enduring cash machine.
This is the unique advantage of small-scale operations: they let you conserve your energy and time at a disproportionate rate.
It’s like gambling, really. You have two choices: make one large, all-or-nothing bet — win or lose in a single move — or make small, low-stakes bets where a loss doesn’t hurt, but a win keeps generating returns. Which direction should you take? The answer is obvious.
And there are many more choices just as humble, grounded, and accessible as a fruit store.
But you must be clear on one core principle: from this point forward, no matter what industry you enter or what field you choose to develop in, you must always position yourself in a state of striking high by playing low. Only this way will you stand out quickly and carve out your own territory.
The biggest trap in this process is believing that because you’ve acquired some skill, you should charge into an industry crowded with true masters and test your mettle against them.
Without guidance or leverage, breaking through in such an environment is extraordinarily difficult.
The reason I’m writing this today is that lately, some readers have been asking me: which entrepreneurial directions and wealth-building paths are worth trying? Should they chase the newest, trendiest industries — try to capitalize on some hot opportunity?
On this, Master Chi consistently holds a skeptical view. These industries may give you a stage to throw a few punches, but that doesn’t mean you’ll land a decisive blow.
Remember the cryptocurrency frenzy of a few years ago? Of all those young players who tried to work that market, how many actually came out ahead?
Li Ka-shing started with plastic flowers. Liu Luanxiong built his foundation with electric fans. These humble beginnings gave them solid ground to advance step by step — and always something to fall back on.
Making money is nothing to be ashamed of. In the game of life, what matters most is not the technique of the game itself — it’s having the reserves and foundation to keep playing after a loss.
Master Chi’s stance toward you is the same.
I know you’re capable. I know you haven’t broken through yet. I know you refuse to accept that.
Then precisely because of that, you should go into those “small industries” first — use them as your training ground.
If you can’t carve out results there, it tells you plainly: you’re not ready yet. Go back and forge yourself further.
But if you do build something there — that’s just as good. It becomes the foundation of your career, the launchpad for whatever larger ambitions come next.