Chapter Thirty-Five: This Guy Doesn't Even Have a Diploma!

Of course, no one would forget that director—a truly dazzling talent who always manages to surprise people. It’s no wonder he refused to sell the film adaptation rights; perhaps he intends to direct it himself.

In the eyes of many, those bumbling fools in Hollywood have no business making this film. Their forte remains actors riding horseback, shooting at everything in sight.

Westerns of this era are nothing short of a flood; later, a batch was even sent gratis to the Celestial Empire, where local television aired one every week, taking years to finish. Imagine how many such films exist, and you’ll understand. In truth, perhaps not all were broadcast in the end—there were plenty of discordant elements, after all. The review department was ever diligent.

Southern California University also basked in the limelight this time. Their freshman student brought honor to the school, excelling not only in software but also in directing. His crew was indeed a ramshackle troupe, the actors all unknowns, and the rest merely young students.

The faculty knew these were troublemakers, not a single one a model student.

With this terrible hand, William White somehow carved a bloody path through Hollywood, leaving the whole industry speechless.

Now, the school believes suspending him was a mistake; better to let him continue his studies.

He is, in fact, a top student: perfect marks in both directing and computer science. Two fields as disparate as the sky and earth—most would struggle to pass, but he has excelled in both.

After several discussions, William decided to finish his undergraduate years. As long as he completes his exams, next semester he’ll be a sophomore.

American universities are flexible—if you earn the credits, graduating isn’t difficult. Haven’t you noticed that all NBA players are “college graduates”? Most are nearly illiterate, yet all hail from prestigious schools, thanks to the credit system.

July in Los Angeles is sweltering. Rain is scarce, and chronic water shortage is almost the norm.

Wildfires rage in the hills around Los Angeles; though the burned area isn’t vast, the air is always tinged with smoke.

Los Angeles is ablaze; so is the futures market. With global instability and rampant inflation, people are increasingly concerned with preserving their wealth.

Given the circumstances, leaving money in the bank is suicidal. Who knows how many days a bank might last? It could collapse tomorrow.

In severe inflation, a bull market is out of the question—stocks are in freefall. The only remaining investments are precious metals.

Gold has already soared more than tenfold. That hardly seems reasonable; no matter how severe inflation gets, prices haven’t risen tenfold. Why should gold be the exception?

Consequently, everyone turned their sights to silver.

Ah, only a little over six dollars. It’s risen three or four times, but surely another fifty or sixty percent increase isn’t too much to ask?

With the encouragement of certain interested parties, this narrative quickly gained traction. Everyone knew who was fanning the flames, but no one minded—as long as profits were coming.

Thus, silver trading volumes shot up, and the market entered a feverish state.

“Sir, prices have risen quite a bit now. Should we exit?”

“Don’t worry. Their relentless push comes at a cost; silver will never fall below six dollars again. We’ll profit more or less—doesn’t matter.”

“This is nerve-wracking. Every day my heart’s in my throat.”

“Their scheme is massive this time. Unless silver doubles, it won’t end. No one dares to short it unless it exceeds twenty dollars.”

“They’re ruthless—short sellers are being wiped out.”

“This family is incredibly greedy, only thinking of their own gains, leaving no room for others. If things keep going like this, someone will eventually deal with them.”

“By the way, Uncle Fu, once the film profits come in, let’s slowly acquire shares in White Petroleum.”

“Understood, sir. I’ll arrange it at once.”

He had no intention of letting the family business be snatched away. Selling it himself is one thing; being robbed is quite another.

He didn’t realize, though, that nobody was after his company anymore. Many had already witnessed his volatile temperament—if you don’t have a strong heart, best not to provoke such trouble.

Truth be told, he’s still a student, just a child really. If a child acts out, so long as it’s not too outrageous, the public usually just laughs it off.

For his adversaries, however, this is anything but pleasant.

Haven’t you seen United Artists suffer? In fact, all the Hollywood giants have been unlucky.

They truly misjudged him. Their most optimistic projections were a mere twenty million dollars at the box office.

Now, reality has proven their stupidity. It’s already clear this film is a blockbuster—and a series, no less.

Every year, when this film is released, they’ll be dragged out and flogged anew. The thought alone brings them pain to the marrow.

The giants are miserable, but William White seems unsatisfied. The largest celebration in Hollywood history is underway.

It’s like sprinkling cumin on their wounds; a strange mood permeates the entire industry.

After the party, word spread that a drunken William White declared: if the box office doesn’t reach $150 million, he’ll run a lap around Southern California University stark naked.

Drunk, William had once again entered self-destructive mode. Gazing at the chaos of his bedroom, he could only shake his head and smile wryly.

He went to the bathroom to clean himself up, then decided to leave immediately. (He really couldn’t stay—if he didn’t go now, things would get messy. He was about to drive, after all.)

Well, although he’d drunk quite a bit, he hadn’t forgotten to take precautions. Isn’t it said that as long as you use protection, it’s not really coercion?

Truth is, America was in chaos at this time—the great pandemic had broken out. There were no cocktail treatments yet; one could succumb in a matter of days.

A night of madness seemed to release much of his recent negativity. For the sake of his future happiness, William White knew he had to keep striving.

Affairs in Los Angeles were settled; nothing major remained. He decided to visit the ranch—had the arcade machine finally been finished? It was quite the moneymaker.

Upon arriving at the ranch, he was given a grand welcome. Many neighboring ranch owners came to join the fun, eager to meet this remarkable youngster.

You see, his film was immensely popular in Texas. Anyone capable of making such a film must be witty and humorous.

Don’t be fooled by all the cowboys in Texas—they actually dislike westerns.

To them, those effeminate types would have died hundreds of times over; no way they’d win the girl. That’s a desecration of history, damn it.