Chapter 29: Earning a Fortune Every Day?

By the time June arrived, William White was already lying back counting his money. His initial capital had multiplied several times over, and just a little more growth would allow him to pay off all those taxes and fees.

“Master, making money this way is a bit nerve-wracking. Shouldn’t we quit while we’re ahead?”

William White pondered for a moment before replying, “Uncle Fortune, there’s no need to be overly anxious. As long as the outlook for gold remains bullish, silver can’t possibly fall. Their target is a forty-to-one ratio; with gold over four hundred now, silver should at least stay above ten dollars.”

“If it really rises that much, all our problems will be solved,” Uncle Fortune replied.

“They’ll push it a bit higher, then pull back slightly, and that’s when they’ll make a killing. We’ll do well enough ourselves.”

“The Hunt family might not find it so easy to cash out, though, right?”

“Heh, of course not. But that’s their problem. We’re just after a modest profit; let’s not worry on their behalf.”

Although Uncle Fortune was still somewhat resentful over the Hunt family’s coming windfall, there was little he could do. He couldn’t hope for a drop in silver prices, since their own family stood to gain a great deal as well.

William White saw clearly that the Hunt family would meet misfortune. Even if they didn’t court disaster as spectacularly as in history, things would hardly end well for them.

In a sense, ill-gotten gains are often the harbinger of disaster—especially when the fortune grows to an astonishing extent. The Hunt family’s tragedy was, in truth, inevitable.

America had no Hongwu Emperor, but it would never tolerate a family whose wealth rivaled that of the nation. If your fortune exceeded certain bounds, you would certainly be beset by all sides.

A family’s wealth had to be commensurate with its foundation and status. A small excess was fine, but if the disparity became ridiculous, it ceased to be wealth and became a calamity.

In terms of family background, the Hunts were insignificant—nothing compared to the Morgans, who had been established for generations, or the ever more mysterious Rockefellers.

Even families of that level dared not covet such vast riches. For a nouveau riche family with no real foundation to be so reckless—that was truly the fearlessness born of ignorance.

The so-called “richest man in America” was really a joke. Though two billion dollars was impressive, America’s richest? Hardly!

What is the Federal Reserve? Take a good look—it is not a government institution, but a non-profit organization.

This “non-profit” is much like the “free services” of later times—the more free something is, the higher the price you pay in the end. Non-profit simply means that there is so much profit involved that it cannot be revealed to the public, so it is called “non-profit.”

At last, the filming of the movie got on track. The group of young actors had been thoroughly disciplined, and William White’s reputation as a tyrant on set spread rapidly.

To their minds, the moment William White picked up his megaphone, he became a different person. It wasn’t just the inexperienced newcomers who were chastened—even the seasoned lighting and camera crew received their share of scolding.

The old hands had no complaints; in this business, skill spoke louder than anything. The errors he pointed out left them speechless, and his solutions were always spot-on.

In private, the old crew discussed it among themselves: this was clearly an experienced professional, not some greenhorn making his first movie. Whether or not he could match the great directors was uncertain, but he was certainly better than the average.

Besides, he was paying top dollar. If anyone decided to make trouble, they could forget about working in the industry again. The world was a practical place—money talked.

When the veterans got serious, they noticed something unusual: the director was truly exceptional, with barely any redundant shots.

This was highly abnormal for a newcomer. To avoid costly reshoots, rookie directors tended to shoot far more footage than necessary; wasting some film was no big deal compared to the expense of shooting new scenes later.

The pace of this shoot was extremely fast. In just twenty days, filming was nearly complete. If not for a few reshoots, the principal photography would have been finished already.

And those reshoots earned the young director further respect: the scenes were markedly improved, and the actors’ performances much more convincing.

In total, the shoot wrapped in twenty-three days. For a low-budget film, this was a staggering speed—especially in Hollywood, where production timelines were well established and rarely beaten by much.

Hollywood filmmaking was like an assembly line: a project was greenlit, casting and crew assembled, shooting commenced, and post-production followed a set routine.

This odd crew was different. The producer doubled as the director, and every process was about speed. Most peculiar of all, the man seemed unconcerned about distribution.

It was rare for a producer to wear multiple hats. Directing and acting was one thing, but serving as producer as well was almost unheard of unless you were a Hollywood titan. Shooting the film was only the beginning; the journey ahead was long.

The producer handled all manner of negotiations: courting various investors, dealing with distributors, scheduling release dates. None of these tasks were easy.

Regardless of what the crew thought, the film’s wrap was officially announced. The boss proved as generous as ever, handing each person—whether lead actor, extra, or crew—a thousand dollars as a personal bonus.

It was a private tip, an invitation to celebrate together. There was no need to report it as income; it was an unexpected windfall.

“Jason, go in my stead, would you? I need to focus on post-production. Time’s tight, and if I hurry, we might just make the tail end of the summer season.”

“All right, though some of the girls might be disappointed.”

“I really don’t have the energy right now. Maybe later!”

“Okay, I’ll be off then. Don’t work too late.”

No one knew that William White was making money in his sleep. Even if someone told the Hunt family, they probably wouldn’t believe it.

As for this somewhat capricious fellow, the media were at a loss. They had rushed to Silicon Valley, only to find William White had vanished—and now he had set his sights on Hollywood. No one could figure out what industry he intended to conquer.

Since he was in Hollywood, plenty of interview opportunities would arise. America’s entertainment reporters were mostly based there, but they had little interest in his film; their focus lay elsewhere.

The reporter’s profession could be infuriating at times, always seeking the most sensational angle without regard for the subject’s feelings.

And what drew more attention than anything else? An heir to billions.

William White detested such headlines, and so he never cooperated. The media could spin whatever stories they wished; he simply refused to respond.