I casually picked up a 100-year-old classic, *The Richest Man of Babylon*, and pondered its financial advice for a while. Suddenly, I realized the most important advice wasn't in the text, but on the cover: "The Richest Man of Babylon—To become rich, you must first go to Babylon." Why? In Chapter Two, Babylon is depicted as financially impoverished, government spending stretched thin, and the king, looking distressed, consults his vizier. The vizier then suggests consulting the richest man, Arkad, to teach the people about wealth, leading to the subsequent grand discourse. Do you see the problem? When I read this passage, I felt a strong sense of unreality. I didn't think about it at the time, but after putting the book down, the problem became clear. This king, this vizier—your country is so poor, shouldn't you immediately grab your weapons, follow me, and mobilize the masses to overthrow Arkad and seize his wealth for yourselves? You actually went to seek advice with utmost respect, showing no semblance of imperial dignity whatsoever! It's utterly womanly compassion, utterly depraved! I don't know if Babylon had such emperors and generals who disgraced the ruler's authority, but in China's 3,700-year history, there has absolutely never been one. So, if you want to be an Arkad, you must first go to Babylon. Pursuing great wealth and power without being in Babylon is like a five-year-old child carrying gold through the market—it's self-destructive. Actually, Babylon isn't necessarily a place; it could also be a time. This book was published in 1926, during America's "Roaring Twenties," a period of economic prosperity and social upheaval. Manhattan Island was a Babylon for everyone, and everyone was a Gatsby. Just three to five years later, the Great Depression arrived, the Chaotic Era began, the League of Nations became a mere figurehead, the United States waged trade wars and seized gold and silver worldwide, Hitler led the German national revival, Stalin purged the Red Army and the Supreme Soviet, and simultaneously coveted Finland, a territory considered sacred and inviolable since ancient times. The world descended into chaos. I imagine that George Clason, the author of this book, who lived to see the 1930s and 1940s, would have lamented that his Babylon was nothing but a fleeting dream. Looking at this book today, it seems we have just lost our own Babylonian time. I don't need to elaborate on how similar today's world is to that of 90 years ago. Yet most people seem to be trying to pretend everything is normal, pretending they are still living in Babylon, dreaming of becoming Arkad. I must say, if you can't find your Babylon, blindly striving is meaningless. The Trisolarans were right; we are now in a Chaotic Era. After finally writing a long post, let's not be too pessimistic. Disappointment is as much akin to delusion as hope. After all, with AI and crypto in this era, perhaps we won't need to go to Mars to find a Babylon somewhere. However, I can say with certainty that those who hoard physical gold will ultimately be doing the work for others in times of chaos.