The first time I truly understood the meaning of wealth was during a torrential downpour in Guangzhou, watching an elderly shopkeeper meticulously arrange golden ingot-shaped chocolates in his window display. He caught me staring, chuckled, and said in heavily accented English, "Cai Shen's chest not open with key, but with patience." I didn't get it then, standing there drenched and counting the few yuan left in my wallet after my failed business trip. But now, years later, having built my own import-export company from scratch, his words echo in my mind whenever I think about prosperity. You see, I've come to realize that unlocking wealth with the Chests of Cai Shen isn't about some magical treasure box—it's about the mindset shift that transforms how we approach abundance, much like how the relationship between Kratos and Atreus evolved in God of War Ragnarok.
I remember playing the previous God of War game and feeling that familiar frustration with Atreus—that "arrogant child" phase where he was all power and no wisdom. It reminded me of my early twenties, when I thought success was about brute force and relentless pushing. I'd work 18-hour days, micromanage every aspect of my first startup, and wonder why my team seemed so distant. Just as Kratos learned, holding on too tight only pushes people away. The turning point came during a particularly tough quarter when I nearly lost my biggest client—not because of market conditions, but because I was suffocating my own team's creativity. That's when I started seeing parallels between my journey and Kratos's realization that he needed to let his son forge his own path.
What Ragnarok does so beautifully is show how both characters matured. Atreus became "more cognizant that his actions can and will have consequences"—a lesson I learned the hard way when my impatience cost me a $50,000 deal back in 2018. Meanwhile, Kratos shifted from defining his son to trying to understand him. In business, this translated to me stopping myself from immediately criticizing an employee's unconventional approach and instead asking, "Help me see why this might work." The dynamic change was palpable. Last quarter, this approach helped us secure a contract with a European distributor that increased our revenue by 34%—proof that sometimes the real treasure isn't in controlling outcomes, but in nurturing the process.
Mimir's counsel playing "a major part" in their growth reminds me of my mentor, Mr. Chen, who always said that prosperity follows those who listen more than they speak. He introduced me to the concept of the Chests of Cai Shen not as literal chests, but as metaphorical containers of wisdom we accumulate through experience. The first chest contains patience—waiting for the right opportunities instead of chasing every shiny object. The second holds perspective—understanding that today's failure might be tomorrow's foundation. The third? That's relationships, the genuine connections that become your safety net when markets fluctuate. I've tracked it in my own business—clients who came through referrals (about 68% of our new business last year) consistently stay longer and spend more than those acquired through aggressive marketing.
The "superb writing and acting" in Ragnarok creates those "genuinely interesting" conversations between father and son that mirror the discussions I now have with my business partners. There's a "newfound sense of mutual respect" that transformed how we make decisions. Instead of me dictating strategies, we've developed a system where everyone brings their expertise to the table. Last month, when considering whether to expand into the Malaysian market, our junior partner—who I would have dismissed as too inexperienced three years ago—pointed out cultural nuances that saved us from a potentially disastrous marketing campaign. That moment felt like unlocking another level of Cai Shen's treasure—the wealth of collective wisdom.
Growth, as Ragnarok demonstrates, isn't linear. Some weeks I feel like I've mastered abundance, only to face a supply chain disruption that tests every ounce of my patience. But what I've learned is that prosperity isn't about the number in your bank account—it's about the richness of your perspective. When I finally returned to that Guangzhou shop last year, the same elderly man was there, now with a grandson helping him. He recognized me immediately, smiled, and said, "You opened the chests." He was right. The real treasure was never about the money—it was about understanding that wealth flows to those who balance ambition with wisdom, much like Kratos and Atreus learning to see through each other's eyes. And that, perhaps, is the greatest abundance of all.