What Really Reflects Your Wealth: The Number or the Share?

A decade ago, I once ran into a young novice monk at a temple. He was a village farmer who had shaved his head to do odd jobs. He didn’t have an official ordination certificate, so he wasn’t a fully ordained monk—you could think of him as the temple’s handyman.
When I asked him about Buddhist scriptures, he was straightforward and admitted he knew nothing about them. He’d come to work there to earn about 50,000 yuan a year, and in three years he could return home and get married.
That’s essentially how most people understand money.
They trade their labor, delay gratification, earn cash, and later use it to satisfy their material desires all at once.
Why did I bring up the novice monk? Because he’d taken novice precepts, meaning he couldn’t date during those three years—just like workers are forced into 996.
The money he saves can later be used to build a house and marry, much like what we aim for when we buy property or save for retirement.
But that’s only one way to think about money—the打工者 (worker)’s way.
If you were the boss, you wouldn’t wonder whether being a novice for three years would let you save 150,000 yuan to go home and marry. Instead, you’d ask: what’s the best way to acquire a certain percentage of equity in this temple?

That’s the second definition of money: money is a resource, or more precisely, your share in the global resource allocation.
If we view the entire Earth as one company and total global wealth as 100% equity, then people like Bezos and Gates must hold a very large slice.
The concept of “share” is fascinating—it cleanly separates workers from owners.
Workers spend their days wondering whether their monthly salary is 10,000 yuan or 20,000 yuan, while owners spend theirs figuring out whether their equity stake is 30% or 60%.

Borrow leverage first, integrate resources second, and deploy capital third. This is actually the standard playbook.

Real men don’t chase limited, predictable money.