My senior brother graduated from an agricultural university in 2018.

Back then, he had two choices:
One was an operations position at a certain big company, with an annual salary of 280,000 yuan, and he would go to Shenzhen.
The other was a technician position at a pig-raising enterprise, with a monthly salary of 5,500 yuan, working in a village.
Everyone in the whole department thought he had lost his mind. His father was so angry that he didn’t take his calls for three months.
Why did he go into pig farming?
He said he read a report: the domestic share of large-scale livestock farming is below 15%, while in the United States it’s above 60%. He believed that in the next ten years, this gap would definitely be closed. It wasn’t about pig farming—it was betting on an inflection point where an industry moves from being scattered to being consolidated.
In the first three years, he earned a little over 5,000 yuan per month. He spent every day in the pigpens recording data. While classmates posted their year-end bonuses in the group chat, he posted pictures of his pants ruined after pigs chewed them.
Things changed starting in the fourth year.
After African swine fever, many small pig farmers exited in large numbers, and big companies went on a frenzy to expand production. His farm had the best epidemic-prevention data, so it was acquired by a listed company. The options he held were worth more than 3 million yuan in total.
He didn’t leave. He stayed behind to become Technical Director.
Two more years passed, and that company went public. As a core technical staff member, he cashed out his shares plus bonuses—together, he ended up with over 10 million yuan.
This year, he came out on his own and started a livestock services company.
And the classmate who had gone to the big company back then was laid off last year, and now he drives for Didi. At our last dinner, he said, “If I’d known, I would’ve gone into pig farming too.”
After the post was published, some people said it was good luck—that he hit the wave at exactly the right moment.
But I’ll tell you the plain truth—
Choosing a popular track means you’re competing with tens of thousands of people for a slice of cake that keeps getting smaller.
Choose a Cold market track that nobody is watching—so long as your direction is right, and you can last long enough, the wind will eventually blow your way.
This isn’t gambling. It’s using a stupidly simple method to wait for an opportunity that most people can’t see.
The people who criticize him are probably either lacking patience or afraid to go against the mainstream.
If it were you—280,000 yuan versus 5,500 yuan—which would you choose? 👇
#选择大于努力 #Cold market track #Agricultural opportunity