Chapter 71: The Roundtable Social

Around a small round table sat five well-dressed gentlemen, deeply focused on the poker game in their hands.

Gambling has always been an effective way to quickly build relationships. When Lynch, newly settled in the community, expressed his wish to hold a small friendly card game at a community event, it quickly drew some attention.

Thanks to Lynch’s frequent appearances in the newspaper—even defeating the head of the Sabin City tax investigation team—some people instinctively avoided getting too close to him, while others wanted to approach him.

The tax bureau is every high earner’s enemy. Anyone who manages to make the tax office stumble brings joy to those who spend every month scheming to avoid taxes.

Moreover, moving into this community meant Lynch had at least the economic standing to speak on equal terms with them; they didn’t mind broadening their social network.

In this atmosphere, the first friendly card game went smoothly.

This game was unlike any Lynch had known before. It involved five players, each dealt ten cards. The rules were simple: exchange cards, then compare hands.

Before starting, each player declared a target final hand. Their ending hand had to meet their declared requirement, and scoring was based on the strength of each player’s hand.

Exchanges used both cards and points. Each player put down 200 units beforehand: 100 as their base stake and 100 into a communal pool—totaling 500 in the pot.

After the game, players received money equivalent to the points in their hand.

This popular game had spread worldwide. Many believed it embodied the core of commercial trade. Each round was a fierce trade war; each player represented a company, a chamber of commerce, or even a conglomerate. The pool represented the bank.

Winning was more complex than just gaining points. Points changed hands during exchanges. Sometimes the leading player lost money in the end, while frequent losers ended up winning.

The game was called Pay—a word with many meanings, representing both payment at its core and claiming after victory. Its appeal was irresistible worldwide.

Not far from the gentlemen, a few ladies sat in wicker chairs by the floor-to-ceiling windows, sipping fine floral tea and competing in elegance.

Their conversation always revolved around fashionable topics—fashion shows, new jewelry exhibitions, recent movies, and the latest news about celebrities and politicians.

Men often underestimated how knowledgeable and talented their wives were when together, completely different from their silly, ignorant behavior when alone.

Just as women feed their vanity in company, men also discussed more than cards—topics beyond the table.

“The economic development index dropped another eleven points in the first half of this year compared to last year. The recession is obvious. How long do you think this will last?”

The man speaking sat opposite Lynch, wearing a shirt trimmed with silver threads. He had rolled up his sleeves, revealing thick arm hair, giving a strange impression—like a disguised ape among humans.

He was a factory owner. The low labor and overhead costs in second-tier cities made them attractive to manufacturers. Compared to first-tier cities, factories here saved significant expenses—land use, warehouse rent, and mostly labor.

Another man shook his head. “We all feel the market shrinking fast. Goods won’t sell, profit margins are down. But the financial market is still booming. I heard the Baylor Industrial Index hit a new high!”

Lynch and the others couldn’t help but laugh bitterly—mocking laughter born from confusion. They didn’t fully understand why they felt this way, but it seemed unnatural: economic stagnation or recession hadn’t hurt the financial markets; instead, it kept making miracles.

Before Lynch’s arrival, economists had warned the federation’s economy was on the brink, but most ignored those voices amid mass enthusiasm.

A worldwide ceasefire had brought rare peace, and most believed with war gone, economies would grow stronger, not weaker.

Some economists introduced the unheard-of concept of a peak rebound, convincing the public that the current slump was just a brief digestion phase before rapid growth resumed.

People preferred to believe what benefited them—even if deep down they doubted it. They forced themselves to trust it as truth.

The man to Lynch’s left placed a card on the table and said, “One point. I need the 9 of diamonds…” He drew on a plain cigarette resting on the ashtray and slowly exhaled, “If the financial market stays this strong, this could last a long time.”

After his call, another man handed him the 9 of diamonds and took his exchanged card plus a chip worth one point.

The game went on. Everyone knew the financial market’s unexpected prosperity meant many still profited. Gains there compensated for their losses in the real economy—and even generated surplus. More money was flowing from the real economy into finance.

Because of this influx of hot money, the financial gaming market thrived. Many business owners shrank their physical operations to invest in financial markets, making money off money—much easier than trying to sell stagnant goods.

Almost all men in the room had stock and futures accounts. Besides socializing, they spent days hearing brokers report how much they earned.

Though they kept making money, they worried. This contradicted common sense, yet they didn’t know what else to do but go with the flow, swept forward by the tide of the times.

“By the way, Lynch, may I call you that?” After Lynch agreed, the man continued, “What business are you in?”

While sorting his cards, Lynch answered, “I run a service company and an auction house. If any of you have good business, feel free to contact me.”

People are always curious about the unknown. “Auction house? Is that a profitable business?”

Lynch shook his head. “No bank is easy, gentlemen. We earn only hard money.”

They asked more questions, such as the auction house’s name, but lost interest when learning Lynch didn’t serve the upper-middle class.

The game continued.