Go back home to show off.

I’m going back to my hometown for the New Year. Usually, after having lunch in the countryside, the next routine is to play Mahjong together. I don’t like playing Mahjong. But to maintain various family relationships, I reluctantly join a game. In my opinion, playing Mahjong is half about the game itself and half about chatting and bragging. I don’t know if it’s since my car accident and disability or since I started investing in stocks, but I’ve become less interested in chatting and bragging with people. First, I feel there’s no point arguing with them. The topics they discuss don’t interest me much.
While playing Mahjong, I mostly see myself as a tool. They talk and boast, and I just listen silently. I’m too lazy to refute some bizarre opinions, but usually, some proud people in life come to show off—saying their son-in-law is a civil servant from somewhere, how well they’re doing at work, how high their salary is.
Honestly, I find these county town braggarts most annoying, but they’re just showing off their stuff; I don’t bother with it. I just listen silently. But there are always a few disrespectful elders who, knowing I’m a disabled person without a job, deliberately use income to provoke me, asking if I don’t have a job and if the government subsidies are enough. I say they’re barely enough for my pocket money. They then say I should find something online to do, to lighten my parents’ burden… (they don’t know I invest in stocks), and talk about some disabled person opening an online shop and earning a lot of money, all kinds of preaching, as if money can be easily picked up online. I find it all so annoying.
I think it’s time to show off a little to scare them.
I say that besides the minimum living allowance, I have other sources of income every month. I tell them I own shares in two Fortune 500 companies, and they pay me dividends every year.
When I say this, they’re a bit stunned. In their understanding, the concepts of holding shares, stocks, and investing are a bit blurry. If I say I’m trading stocks, they’d look down on me. But if I say I own shares in Fortune 500 companies and get dividends, they think that sounds impressive.
After a brief silence, they seem to have discovered a new world. They start asking me many questions, mainly two: how did I get these shares? How much dividends do I get each year?
I say that back during the financial crisis a long time ago, some executives and shareholders didn’t believe in the company and sold their shares cheaply. I thought the price was good, so I bought some at a bargain.
As for dividends, I’m not very sure; if the company does well, the dividends are higher. They still don’t give up and keep asking how much dividends I received last year. Since I’m pretending to be impressive, I turn the tables and ask, “How much does your son-in-law earn per month?” He stammers and says he’s not really sure, probably around 10,000 yuan. I pretend to do some calculations on my phone and then say casually, “If you average it out per month, it should be higher than your son-in-law’s salary!”
When I say this, everyone is stunned. It feels like my image in their eyes has become more impressive. I’m no longer the pitiful disabled person relying on government aid.
This is the common perception of most people in my rural hometown. They don’t understand the relationship between trading stocks, stocks, shares, shareholders, and dividends. They only know that Fortune 500 companies are powerful, and that these companies can give me so many dividends—that’s even more impressive.