Rebirth of the World’s Richest Man

"Hello. Who is it?" As soon as Jiang Xiaobai sent Shi Sheng away, the phone on the table rang.

Did the news of his return spread so quickly? As soon as I arrived on my front foot, someone on my back foot knew about it.

"I, Xiaobai, our satellite launch has been published in the newspapers." Mou Qizhong's voice rang on the phone.

"Old Mou." No wonder he knew he was back. It turned out to be Mou's son.

"The satellite launch was in the newspaper. I was busy when I came to work and I really didn't read the newspaper. This is a good thing. What did the newspaper say? Does it praise us or belittle us?"

Jiang Xiaobai asked with a smile. Zhao Xiaojin was responsible for Jiang Xiaobai's newspapers, but Zhao Xiaojin also came back with him.

I just went to work today and had a lot of work to do, so Zhao Xiaojin hasn't delivered the newspaper yet.

But even after it was delivered, Jiang Xiaobai didn't have time to look at it because there were too many things to do early in the morning.

"You are praising us with gorgeous words..." Mou Qizhong said.

Jiang Xiaobai was not surprised by this. It was originally a positive thing, but even if it was made up, it would not be said to be black.

What's more, during those few days in Moscow, Jiang Xiaobai treated him honestly, joked, and tampered with Huade Satellite Technology Company.

Staying in the suite was for nothing? Western food for nothing? Souvenirs for nothing? Traveling in vain?

"But, Xiaobai, I have something to ask you?" Mou Qizhong thought for a while and said.

"What's the matter, Lao Mou? You just ask, why are you so polite?" Jiang Xiaobai said casually, and Zhao Xiaojin knocked on the door and came in.

Holding a stack of papers and some newspapers.

Jiang Xiaobai pointed to the desk. Zhao Xiaojin put down the things and went out.

Jiang Xiaobai put the phone away, turned on the speakerphone, and prepared to chat with Mou Qizhong while reading the newspaper that Mou Qizhong mentioned.

Mou Qizhong was silent for a while on the phone, but he finally asked his doubts: "When the rocket was launched at the Baikonur Cosmodrome, who ordered the ignition?"

"The order was given to light the fire... light the fire... what happened?" Jiang Xiaobai had already seen the newspaper, and he also saw the photos in the newspaper, which were very good.

The news was well reported, with well-chosen titles, photos, and content. He opened several newspapers in succession.

Okay, there is no best, only better. The civil and military are first, but the military is second. All the articles are well written.

The first photo was chosen with the same discernment. What is this called?

This means that staying in a suite is not in vain, eating Western food is not in vain, taking souvenirs is not in vain, and traveling is not in vain.

"I remember that the ignition of this rocket was clearly ordered by the commander of the Baikonur Cosmodrome.

I also negotiated this issue with others, but they said this was not possible and that it must be their professional commander, otherwise problems would easily arise, so they did not agree.

But why is it you who ordered the fire in the newspaper now?

I asked the attendants, and everyone agreed as I remembered, that it was the commander who lit the fire.

But after reading the newspaper, some people said that they remembered it wrong. It was you who ordered the fire to be lit and the rocket to be launched.

I just don’t understand, is it possible to see ghosts in broad daylight..."

Mou Qizhong expressed his doubts, and Jiang Xiaobai almost laughed out loud.

This Lao Mou probably has a lot of question marks, right? If this were left to future generations, Mou Qizhong would not have such doubts.

The first time I would have suspected it was Photoshop, the second time I would have suspected it was staged photography, but it would never be like this, the first time I would suspect there was something wrong with my memory.

"Ah, so you asked about this!" Jiang Xiaobai looked like he suddenly realized it, and then said: "Yes, I ordered the ignition!"

Jiang Xiaobai said affirmatively, and Mou Qizhong on the other end of the phone immediately asked: "Then I clearly remember..."

Mou Qizhong was interrupted by Jiang Xiaobai before he finished speaking.

Jiang Xiaobai asked mysteriously: "Lao Mou, have you ever heard of memory bias, the Mandela effect?"

"What memory bias? What is the Mandela effect?" Mou Qizhong was confused.

"Many people have had this experience. You remember experiencing it on a certain day, but when you mention it to others again. You will find that your memory is very different from other people's descriptions. There is a big deviation, and sometimes even when you and a friend experience something together, the two people describe it very differently afterwards. Many people explain to themselves at such times that

I remembered it wrong.

But some people believe that it is not their own memory that has a problem, but some other reasons that cause the entire time and space to be distorted. This phenomenon is scientifically called the Mandela effect..."

Jiang Xiaobai slowly spoke to Mou Qizhong, who became even more confused.

What does this mean? Is this a problem with my memory, or is it the Mandela Effect?

"For example, there was a song last year with lyrics about fifty-six ethnic groups and fifty-six flowers... have you heard of it?" Jiang Xiaobai continued to ask mysteriously.

"I have listened to last year's song, fifty-six ethnic groups and fifty-six flowers, fifty or sixty brothers and sisters are one family..." Mou Qizhong also sang a part to Jiang Xiaobai on the phone.

This is the song from the National Games last year. It is very famous in the country and he has heard it too.

"Yes, but actually I want to tell you, it is not fifty-six ethnic groups and fifty-six flowers, but fifty-six constellations and fifty-six flowers..."

"Impossible." Mou Qizhong said flatly.

"If you don't believe me, ask others first, and then check it out..." Jiang Xiaobai suggested.

"Okay, I'll go take a look..." Mou Qizhong hung up the phone, and Jiang Xiaobai thought about it. Mou Qizhong was deceived by him this time, and he will probably be confused for two days.

Mou Qizhong was really curious, so he asked people in the company first, and everyone said in unison that it was "Fifty-six ethnic groups and fifty-six flowers."

Then Mou Qizhong looked up the music score and was completely confused.

Then I contacted several well-known psychology experts and professors to meet that day and talked about memory bias and the Mandela Effect.

However, at this time, foreign and domestic standards were not in line, and experts and professors had not heard of the Mandela Effect.

Because the Mandela Effect is not a famous anaphora, it is just a folk study, not a famous scientific research theory.

So Mou Qizhong was still confused. He didn't even sleep well that night. As for contacting several reporters to verify this matter, he didn't think of it at all. After all, he was also present at the time and didn't notice anything else going on.