You are the asset,
the company is just leverage.
I know a young man.
Two years ago,
he graduated from the University of Tokyo
and received a verbal offer for a PhD.
But on the day of enrollment,
he was told
the spot was gone.
At that moment, his reality was this:
Degrees in Civil Engineering and Architecture,
zero experience in other fields,
zero internships,
not a recent graduate,
and only a few thousand yuan left in his wallet.
He made a decision:
go to Shenzhen
and start looking for a job from scratch.
From design institutes to real estate firms,
from e-commerce support to selling insurance,
from IT outsourcing to gambling games,
he sent resumes to everywhere possible
and took every interview he could get.
Finally, after a call with a startup founder,
he did six rounds of interviews in a week,
signed a contract with a penalty clause for underperformance,
and moved to Beijing alone.
The days that followed weren't as smooth as they sound.
He was diagnosed with depression and anxiety.
For over six months,
only two things occupied his mind:
either he was working,
or he wanted to die the moment he stopped.
Every physical pain made him suspect a terminal illness.
Yet, he delivered results that impressed the company.
He hit six-month goals in just three,
doubled his salary,
was transferred to the Tokyo office,
ranked first in performance for his role,
and was promoted in his 18th month.
If I only told the first half,
it's a story of self-rescue.
If I only told the second half,
it sounds like a typical career success story.
But what truly impressed me about this young man
wasn't his achievements,
but three sentences he wrote after his 27th birthday.
Hello,
everyone,
I'm Wang Lijie.
What are those three sentences?
First:
The self is an asset,
the company is leverage.
Second:
Time appreciates incremental assets
and depreciates legacy assets.
Third:
The closer you are to the market,
the closer you are to freedom.
This isn't corporate "chicken soup."
It's a complete personal asset management framework.
And this framework
happens to be what the best entrepreneurs I've seen
are practicing everyday.
I haven't thought about these issues from a junior perspective in ages.
And my views from when I graduated 20 years ago
might not keep up with today's era.
So when I saw him post his inner thoughts
as an article on his WeChat account,
it resonated deeply with me.
I truly agree with his cognitive model.
At his age,
having such insight
is very rare.
Today, I want to break it down for you
sentence by sentence from an investor's perspective.
Let's start with the first one:
The self is an asset,
the company is leverage.
This young man said
he asks himself one question every day:
"If I leave this company tomorrow,
without my title, team, budget, or brand endorsement,
what do I have left in my hands?"
Then he gave a very clear standard of judgment:
What you cannot strip away
is your asset.
What disappears once stripped
is just borrowed leverage.
Why is this so powerful?
Because most people have it backwards.
They mistake the company's valuation for their own.
They mistake the platform's traffic for their own ability.
They mistake the team's efficiency for their own skill.
When the tide goes out,
they realize they aren't even wearing swimsuits.
I've invested in over 300 early-stage companies;
I've seen too many people like this.
They reach Director level at a big tech firm,
managing dozens of employees
with tens of millions in budget,
endless daily meetings,
and an incredibly busy schedule.
But when they leave to start a business,
they collapse within three months.
Why?
Because they thought they had ability,
when all they really had was a platform.
Those resources, connections, and traffic—
none of it followed them out the door.
I've also seen another type of person.
They might not be the most dazzling in the office,
but they are constantly accumulating one thing:
transferable skills.
What does "transferable" mean?
It stays with you at a different company.
It stays with you in a different industry.
It stays with you when you start your own business.
That is what truly belongs to you.
When these people start businesses,
their success rate is staggering.
Because they never tied their identity to any single platform.
"Transferability"—
these five syllables are the only standard for your true assets.
Managing a ten-person team?
That's experience.
Building a team from scratch in a new industry?
That's ability.
Creating a viral project?
That's an achievement.
Knowing whether a project is worth starting?
That's an asset.
Landing a major client this year?
That's performance.
Arriving in a strange city with no network
and still earning someone's trust?
That's true skill.
In the AI era,
this distinction becomes even more brutal.
Sequoia Capital used a metaphor last year,
saying many of your skills are becoming like aluminum.
What does that mean?
Over 100 years ago, aluminum was more expensive than gold.
Napoleon III served his most honored guests with aluminum utensils;
ordinary guests only got gold ones.
Then electrolysis was invented,
and aluminum became worthless—
one of the cheapest metals in the world.
Today, AI is doing the same thing to countless skills:
coding, making slides, translation, data analysis,
basic design, and entry-level legal drafting.
Skills that once took years of training to master
can now be done by AI in seconds,
and done quite well.
The craft you spent four years in college and two years working to build
was diluted overnight.
It didn't disappear;
it just lost its value.
But there is one category of things
that AI cannot do.
Can you pick out the most correct plan by intuition
from a pile of options that all look good?
When everyone else is optimistic,
can you sense when something is wrong?
Can you make a person who doesn't trust you
willing to hand over their money after a 30-minute talk?
What are these things called?
Judgment, taste, and the radius of trust;
understanding core industry principles, and the courage to go from zero to one.
Not only do they never depreciate,
they actually compound over time.
The older they get, the more valuable they become.
So in the age of AI,
the distinction between assets and leverage is not outdated;
it has become a matter of life and death.
Are you the person becoming more expensive,
or are you the skill turning into aluminum?
Now for the second point:
Time makes incremental assets appreciate,
while making stock assets depreciate.
This young man used a very precise definition:
Stock assets are nouns—
a position,
a certificate,
a deposit,
a hit product.
Incremental assets are verbs—
learning,
judging,
insight,
adapting.
Then he said something that left a deep impression on me:
Promotion is the moving average;
Ability is the K-line;
Potential is the blank space.
Investors will understand this immediately.
A moving average has two characteristics:
it lags and it smooths.
If your ability doubles today,
the average only nudges up slightly.
If you suddenly break through a cognitive barrier,
the moving average won't reflect it at all.
Your job level is just a moving average drawn by the company.
If you use that average to define your level,
it's like using yesterday's price to define tomorrow's value.
He said he doesn't chase promotions.
He accepts them,
but doesn't chase them.
Because chasing a promotion
is like multiplying all your time
by an indicator that is destined to lag.
He'd rather multiply his time by judgment and insight.
Do you know what that's like?
It's exactly like an entrepreneur saying,
"I'm not chasing the valuation of the next funding round;
I'm chasing the intrinsic value of the product."
When the intrinsic value is strong enough,
the valuation will catch up on its own.
Many people are incredibly busy at work,
working late every night,
with flawless year-end performance reviews,
earning every penny of their bonuses.
But if you ask,
"What was your greatest growth this year?"
they stutter for a long time, unable to say.
This is the trap of stock assets.
It keeps diligent people feeling fulfilled,
feeling like they are constantly improving,
yet they never actually move forward.
Even more frightening is a concept he mentioned
called "efficiently killing time."
Others get promoted in two years,
you do it in one;
you think you've won.
But have you considered that
if your ceiling is defined by the promotion system,
you've only won an efficient slow jog?
And the most toxic part of this slow jog is—
It is painless.
You outrun everyone else,
take first place,
and every external signal is applauding you.
At what moment do you realize
that you might be running in the wrong direction?
This is why I say legacy assets are a trap.
They don't just deceive the lazy;
they are even better at deceiving the diligent.
I've fallen into this trap myself.
Years ago, when I started angel investing,
the metric I was most proud of was the number of projects.
I invested in 50,
then 100,
then 200.
It seemed quantity equaled ability.
Later, I gradually realized
that returns aren't determined by how many deals you make,
but by when, with what criteria,
and on which kind of person you placed your bets.
Those quantities
are legacy assets.
The evolution of those criteria
is the real incremental growth.
Finally, the third point:
The closer you are to the market,
the closer you are to freedom.
He said something with an investor's perspective:
"Entrepreneurs are just 'all-in',
but I always have the right to open or add to a position."
What does it mean to be "close to the market"?
He listed several criteria.
First:
Hand your methodology over to others
to see if they can get results in different scenarios.
If only you can make it work,
it's a legacy asset.
If others can replicate it,
it's transferable incremental growth.
Second:
See if you can get a complete stranger
to voluntarily pay for something you've made.
Payment is the coldest, hardest form of feedback.
It doesn't care about your feelings
or feed you vague promises.
One real transaction
is worth more than a hundred moments of self-satisfaction.
Third:
Put yourself in front of an external mirror.
See what price the market is willing to pay for you
once you leave your company and your title.
As an investor,
I'd like to add something.
Many people are superstars within their company,
but find they can't even persuade a stranger once they're out.
Why?
Because internal feedback is hothoused.
Your colleagues are naturally inclined to cooperate,
your boss is naturally inclined to give you chances,
and your subordinates are naturally inclined to agree.
These aren't market voices;
they are voices in an echo chamber.
A true market test
is a cold start.
No network,
no endorsements,
no budget,
and no one even knows who you are.
Can you build something from zero?
Even if it's tiny,
even if it's not profitable,
even if it's just an article that strangers want to share,
a tool that makes others ask how you did it,
or a conversation that makes someone say "this person is reliable."
The result of this test
is your true valuation as an asset.
It's not about what's on your resume;
it's how much the market is willing to pay for your existence.
Why am I sharing the thoughts of this 27-year-old today?
Because I feel he has touched upon something for this generation.
is the most critical cognitive turning point.
In the past decades,
the default path for career development was fixed:
a good university,
a good company,
a good position,
and a good retirement.
You just had to squeeze in
and climb the ladder step by step.
But today,
that path is breaking.
AI is accelerating the devaluation of skills,
economic cycles are shortening,
and industry lifecycles are shrinking.
Your parents' generation
might have stayed in one industry for life.
Your generation
might have to switch five to seven times.
In this environment,
linking your security to any specific company or position
is dangerous.
The "iron rice bowl" of today
might not even be a bowl tomorrow.
The only true security
comes from being a valuable,
transferable, and continuously appreciating asset yourself.
I'm not telling you to quit and start a business immediately—
that's another trap.
I'm talking about a shift in mindset.
Move from "I'm working for the company"
to "I'm using the company as leverage"
to drive the appreciation of my own assets.
When using this leverage, don't hold back.
Use the budget, brand, team, room for error, and learning opportunities,
use them to the fullest.
But always remember one thing:
The output of leverage is not your principal.
Don't treat borrowed things
as your own.
When you view your work through this lens,
many things become clear.
Should you work overtime?
Only if it adds to your incremental assets.
Should you switch jobs?
Only if the new platform offers better leverage efficiency.
Should you learn a new skill?
Check if it's transferable,
or if it will become obsolete tomorrow.
I really want to say one thing to the young people watching this:
Don't be fooled by performance reviews.
Performance is the company's evaluation of you,
not your evaluation of yourself.
There is only ever one question you should ask:
"If everything were reset to zero tomorrow,
what would I still be worth?"
The answer to that question
is your true net worth.
But there is a deeper question hidden here,
one that this young man didn't elaborate on,
and I'm not sure there's an answer.
When you turn yourself into a constantly appreciating asset,
arming yourself with judgment and insight,
and passing the market's coldest test—
then what?
Are you free?
Or have you simply
moved from one cage
to a larger one?
This question,
I leave to you.
How many of the skills you have now
are truly transferable?
The time you spend every day—
is it maintaining your current stock,
or accumulating incremental value?
Tell me in the comments
what you think.
I'm Wang Lijie.
See you next time.