Chapter 128: Borrowing Money Strains Relationships, Forcing Repayment Brings Great Profit (Extra Chapter from Sanjiang)

Wednesday. All funds were withdrawn from the HSBC account.

Zhang Long did not leave a single cent. Since he had opened the account at a branch, he went to HSBC in person. When Qin Miaotong received the news, she was stunned. What was going on?

As for the "Gold Medal Analyst," he was left completely dumbfounded. He had assumed yesterday’s words were just an angry outburst, but it turned out he was serious?

...

"Mr. Zhang, please calm down."

"Stop, save it. No more nonsense."

Facing the HSBC customer service director, Zhang Long was far from polite. "I never agreed to this 'Gold Medal Guidance' swap in the first place. Fine, I accepted the change, but you sent me some arrogant idiot who doesn't know his place. He calls me every single day wanting to discuss 'technical analysis'—it's incredibly annoying."

"The first week, I listened to him and sold off Longpeng Technology and Weiyuan Bio, and then I missed out on the massive gains that followed."

"I had a few days of peace, and then he started calling constantly again, bragging about being a 'Gold Medal Analyst.' Get lost."

"I'm done. Close the account immediately."

Facing Zhang Long's fury, the service director was all apologies, speaking in a low, submissive tone, asking him to calm down and not be angry, insisting there must have been some misunderstanding, that Teacher Yu had good intentions, and so on. He even pleaded with him not to be impulsive and promised it wouldn't happen again.

He even offered to have Teacher Yu come over to apologize.

"Forget it, don't bother. I don't need it."

Zhang Long waved his hand dismissively. "Positions were closed yesterday, and the withdrawal happened today. The account is clean. Get the cancellation process started now—don't drag your feet. I mean what I say."

"Once a rift has formed, working together will always be awkward. Let's just end it. Don't force me to call the police."

Although Zhang Long’s words were harsh, the service director would not dare to simply close the account as requested, as this would be treated as a serious complaint, which would look terrible on his record.

So, while Zhang Long waited for a response, both the Gold Medal Analyst and Qin Miaotong came to apologize.

"No, I don't need it."

Looking at "Gold Medal Yu" and Qin Miaotong, Zhang Long shook his head indifferently. "Putting aside whether I made or lost money, at the very least, I should feel comfortable while trading. I told you several times not to call unless necessary, yet you called every day. Can you not understand simple instructions?"

"Since that's the case, let's just go our separate ways. It’s better for everyone. Close the account, stop stalling, don't waste time, and stop wasting my life."

Gold Medal Yu’s face turned dark and unpleasant. He couldn't believe Zhang Long wouldn't even give him the time of day.

Qin Miaotong’s expression was one of bitter defeat. What kind of situation was this? A bolt from the blue. Closing the account and quitting—it was a disaster.

"Fine, so you're going to drag this out, are you?"

A moment later, seeing that HSBC had no intention of responding and was planning to stall, Zhang Long called 110 and filed a complaint with the relevant regulatory departments. Immediate action followed.

Closing the account was better than letting the situation escalate.

...

"Sister Jing, um..."

At lunchtime, at a restaurant near the commercial strip opposite Huiyin Company, Wang Jing looked conflicted. Her commission from last month had just arrived, and several people were already asking to borrow money.

She didn't want to lend it, but refusing would hurt their relationship.

"Let me think about it."

Wang Jing’s tone was helpless, but her colleague was anxious. "What is there to think about? Twenty thousand is nothing to you—just a drop in the bucket. Even if Zhang Long stops trading, you’ll still have hundreds of thousands in commissions this month, right? Sister Jing, I really need the money. My family is waiting for life-saving surgery."

"Don't just stand by and watch me die."

It was a blatant moral hostage situation, and Wang Jing was soft-hearted. It wasn't that she didn't want to lend the money; it was that if she lent to one, she would have to decide whether to lend to others, which was very difficult.

"I have expenses too."

Wang Jing looked distressed. "You ask for twenty thousand, someone else asks for thirty. If I lend it to you, what will the others think?"

"Don't worry, I'll keep it strictly confidential."

Her colleague promised emphatically. Borrowing money in the workplace was very common, and most people found it hard to refuse, leading to the money never being repaid and friendships falling apart. Some even more shameless people would borrow money from everyone they knew and then quit and vanish. It was infuriating.

It’s better to help in an emergency than to subsidize poverty, and after her colleague showed her photos of an elderly relative hospitalized, Wang Jing agreed.

The transfer of twenty thousand was processed quickly.

Her colleague received the money and transferred it to her family right in front of Wang Jing. Once the money was gone, Wang Jing stopped worrying about it, but she never expected that by the afternoon, the rest of the department would know she had lent money out. Chaos ensued.

"You lent to her, but not to me?"

"Why?"

Wang Jing’s expression darkened, and her colleague looked sheepish. "I accidentally let it slip. Oh, we're all colleagues; if you can help, just help."

Some wanted to borrow for a car, some to pay off credit cards, and others claimed their family members were sick too.

Wang Jing’s head began to throb. It was a nightmare.

...

"Young Master Feng, are you still alive?"

Returning home in the afternoon, Zhang Long took a quick look at the stock market. There weren't any major fluctuations; the stocks he was operating were moving in an orderly fashion. He had an appointment tomorrow with a new securities and financial firm to open another account, bringing his total to three.

He opened a stock trading discussion group to see what everyone was talking about. As soon as he entered, he saw someone asking about "Young Master Feng," who had been trapped chasing a rally in Yunfeng Technology. It was miserable.

Twenty or thirty thousand might not be much to Zhang Long, but to an ordinary investor, it was half their life savings.

"Barely, still breathing."

Seeing the mention, Young Master Feng’s reply flashed on the screen quickly. "I don't think Yunfeng Technology is going to rise anymore, but the market has been quite active lately, hasn't it?"

"Yeah, but no matter how active it is, I can't buy anything that actually goes up. Whatever I buy drops. I'm speechless."

"It's like that for everyone, isn't it?"

The group was filled with laments. Zhang Long watched silently without speaking. He generally didn't express his opinions in these groups, nor was he secretly celebrating his own superior performance; he just checked the forums or joined groups to keep an eye on the current market sentiment.

Even with his "cheat code," he couldn't just trade blindly; he had to understand the landscape. At the very least, if a stock he predicted was going to rise, he needed to know the news cycle behind why it was rising.

"I’ve been doing pretty well lately."

Suddenly, a voice out of sync with the others appeared in the group, followed immediately by a screenshot of a portfolio. "Eight stocks: five small losses, the other three made quite a bit."

"Whoa, brother, are you trading yourself or using a platform recommendation? A 15%+ profit?"

"Three winners, five losers, and still a 15%+ overall profit? I'm so envious. Please teach me, please guide me!"

Zhang Long was curious, too. Not bad.

But as he looked at the stocks that friend was holding, he felt a sense of familiarity. A moment later, he realized: these were all stocks he had previously traded while managing the Hongze account, but he had closed those positions after finding better, higher-growth opportunities.

"Ahem, just luck. Pure guesswork."

The user laughed it off. He knew enough to keep quiet about making a fortune—showing off was fine, but he wouldn't be arrogant.

Zhang Long found it both annoying and funny. "Guesswork," my foot. This guy was definitely a Hongze client.

The group went quiet after that. But Zhang Long knew that some users would definitely message that guy to seek guidance. Perhaps it would indirectly bring a few clients to Hongze, but that wasn't worth mentioning.

...

"What on earth happened?"

"It's infuriating! I'm so upset!"

That night, in an apartment, the moment Qin Miaotong saw Liang Xue, she begged for a hug and comfort. Usually, the two met on Fridays or Saturdays, rarely on weekdays like Tuesday or Wednesday, since they had to work the next day.

Qin Miaotong hadn't worked overtime tonight, and she wasn't in the mood to. Her supervisor didn't push it; after all, the biggest "passive income" client in their hands had flown the coop today.

As compensation, the Gold Medal Analyst gave up his half of this month’s commission to Qin Miaotong. But what was the point of all that trouble?

"Uh, you really were too..."

After hearing Qin Miaotong’s brief account, Liang Xue was also speechless. What was HSBC doing? They actually managed to drive away a client with millions in assets. No wonder her best friend was even more devastated than when her clients were reassigned earlier. Anyone would be crushed; it was a disaster for no reason.

"The client's trading was very stable."

Qin Miaotong’s face was twisted in misery. "Trading millions every week—that was over ten thousand in commissions per month. Now the account is closed, and they're done. It's driving me crazy."

"I really want to hack that 'Gold Medal' guy to pieces."

Of course, she couldn't actually kill him, as that would be illegal, but she could draw circles and curse him, plus stick pins in a doll.

Liang Xue watched as Qin Miaotong made a small cloth doll, wrote the name on it, and began stabbing it.

Violently stabbing the HSBC "Gold Medal Analyst."

"Alright, look on the bright side."

What was done was done. Liang Xue could only advise her friend to move on. "I'm going to take a shower. It's ten-thirty, time for bed. We have to work tomorrow."

Liang Xue kept toiletries and a change of clothes at Qin Miaotong’s place and headed to the bathroom, familiar with everything.

"Sigh, such a hard life."

While her friend was in the bathroom, Qin Miaotong looked up at the ceiling, feeling melancholy. As luck would have it, just as she was feeling down, Liang Xue’s phone, left on the sofa, vibrated with a message. Qin Miaotong instinctively picked it up and froze.

WeChat from Zhang Long: "Hey, did you get off work yet?"

...

The night passed without incident. Thursday dawned.

Zhang Long woke up and checked his phone; there was no reply. Even though his windbreaker was still at Liang Xue’s place, he hesitated about whether to find a suitable opportunity to go and get it.

*Don't overthink it,* he told himself. It would be funny if he ended up being delusional. He scratched his head.

"Mr. Zhang, please, come in."

After completing his stock trades for the day, Zhang Long went straight to the financial securities firm he had an appointment with. It was called Jinchan. He had actually been there before, but at that time, Jinchan’s stock recommendations weren't accurate, so he hadn't opened an account and had gone to Juncai instead. He had missed out.

This time, Zhang Long returned after reviewing their recent recommendation reports, and everything looked good, so he opened the account immediately.

The platform was legitimate, and there were no issues. Even a small company like Hongze would have periods where their recommendation quality spiked; Jinchan having a slump was normal.

"Mr. Zhang, how much do you plan to deposit? I’ll go over the service terms and discounts with you."

"Hmm, five million."

Zhang Long spoke casually, but the number made the account manager pause. Five million?

"Um, five million?"

Seeing the manager looked stunned, Zhang Long nodded, noncommittal. "Is five million a lot? What kind of commission discount can you offer? Give me a sincere rate."

"Phew, 0.02%."

He finally heard it clearly. The Jinchan manager’s eyes lit up. "It can go higher later."

"Ten million, can you do 0.01%?"

"Hmm, we'll see."

After opening the account, Zhang Long left Jinchan. Ten million in capital at a 0.01% commission—HSBC, UBS, and Juncai had all reached that level for him, though he had already closed his HSBC account. He’d start with five million today, make a few trades, and gradually increase the funds.

Stocks earn money from the market, and the industry is heavily regulated by the state, so there was no need to worry about account security. Any large platform was fine; only small or black-market platforms would try to steal the principal.

Just like any industry, there were scammers.

At the beginning of the month, Zhang Long’s three personal stock accounts had a principal of 10.5 million. Later, he deposited another five million into each, totaling 25.5 million. As of last Friday, he had a profit of just over 30%, bringing the total account funds to 33.5 million.

This week, he had only traded a little. He closed his HSBC position on Tuesday and closed the account yesterday. Today, he opened his third account at Jinchan and would definitely add more funds later.

His requirements weren't high: he just needed his three personal accounts to reach a total of 50 million by the end of the month. It was hopeful.

As for the Hongze managed account, it had netted 5.5 million by last Friday—not much, but not little. However, Qian Caiying had asked him to start controlling the profits this week, so he’d see what he ended up with by the end of the month, aiming to round it out to match his three personal accounts for easier accounting.

Amitabha, controlling the numbers—a bit excessive, isn't it?

...

"Family emergency, need money."

In the afternoon, everyone was busy. The Jinchan account had been activated with a five-million deposit, and he could trade on Friday. Meanwhile, the spot trading platforms were still calling him.

He couldn't ignore them forever, so Zhang Long gave a uniform reply: his family had an emergency, so he wouldn't be trading for now.

He’d deal with it whenever he was free.

As for what the emergency was, there was no need to elaborate; both sides knew it was an excuse.

"Over ten million..."

Whether it was Huiyin or Dingxin Runde, looking at the 10 million in net profit Zhang Long had taken away, they felt the sting. Although the trading volume was significant, the revenue from those trading fees, after paying employee salaries, rent, and advertising, didn't leave much behind.

In short, trading volume covered the company's operating expenses; client losses were the actual net profit.

And that net profit had been drained of over 10 million by Zhang Long—two months of the company's net income.

"Don't ever play with him again."

A vice president’s face was dark. "I’ve finally realized it: this Zhang Long basically doesn't lose. Even if he doesn't have much analytical skill, his operations are very rational, and with his ample reserve funds, he can hold out through anything."

"Just like that group in Kyoto."

Hearing this, everyone present had a strange expression. Before National Day, a rival platform in Kyoto had been "milked" for 100 million by a few clients.

The outside world might not know, but those of them in the industry were well aware. The operation was actually simple.

Buying long or short didn't matter; as long as there was volatility, those accounts would profit—almost 100% of the time.

Compared to Zhang Long, it was much more terrifying.

The starting capital for those accounts was 10 million each. The first entry was 1 million—not a large position. If the direction was right, they would close the position for a profit. If the direction was wrong, they would keep adding to the position and just hold on. Even if 10 million wasn't enough to hold, they would immediately dump in another 10 million to keep holding.

They escaped disaster two or three times, and everything else was profit. They were just using massive capital to force their way through.

Eventually, the platform couldn't hold on anymore. A year’s worth of net profit had been taken. They found those accounts and negotiated: "Stop playing, you've made enough blood money, okay?"

At the same time, those accounts were restricted by the exchange from trading further, but that couldn't stop them.

After all, it was an organized "wool-shearing" operation. Opening accounts was easy; if they changed accounts, how could you stop them?

They could only warn other platforms to be on guard.

Zhang Long’s continuous profit recently was different from those "wool-shearers," but fortunately, it had stopped. Losing over 10 million was something they could handle—they’d just have to count it as bad luck.

*Buzz, buzz buzz~*

At Longju on the Bund, Zhang Long’s phone vibrated. He picked it up and swiped to answer. "Yes, that's right."

"Tomorrow morning? That works!"

PS: Today I hit the front page of the "Strong Recommendation" list. Meanwhile, Old Cow has decided to add two extra chapters for the Sanjiang/Front Page promotion. I’ll keep adding chapters tomorrow at noon, aiming for 10,000 words a day. Happy?

Please give me a monthly ticket, mwah.