Chapter 45: Even Eight Sedan Chairs Cannot Bring Her Back

Qian Caiying was suffering from a splitting headache. Not only had her own account suffered losses, but the company’s clients under her name were also in turmoil. October had gone smoothly, thanks to Zhang Long’s stock recommendations; as long as one didn’t stubbornly hold onto losing positions, profits were almost guaranteed. Who could have anticipated a sudden disaster?

Barely three trading days after Zhang Long’s departure, the market collapsed in a sea of red, bloodshed everywhere.

...

“Useless!” Qian Caiying hung up the phone. She had called Shengxin for advice, but the counselor named Chang Song spoke in a trembling, helpless tone, offering nothing but vague reassurances: don’t panic, wait and see, control risk.

How was she supposed to control risk when all her stocks were plummeting? Either sell at a loss or keep holding on.

She asked: sell or hold?

Again, the answer was just to control risk—nothing more.

Of course, Qian Caiying understood that at times like these, ambiguous advice was all anyone could offer. If she sold at a loss and the stocks rebounded, what then? If she kept holding and the stocks continued to crash, what then? It was a dilemma.

“Director Qian...” The team manager furrowed his brow, awaiting instructions.

Qian Caiying pressed her fingers to her temples and resolutely chose the same course as Shengxin: soothe the clients’ nerves and remind them to manage their risks.

“Zhang Long...” she murmured inwardly.

Only now did she truly grasp the difference between Zhang Long and ordinary counselors. Not only was his stock picking accurate, but most importantly, he always made timely, sound risk judgments and informed clients accordingly. Whether they listened or not was up to them—his warnings were always clear and thorough.

There had been plenty of losing trades in October, but risk warnings were always promptly given. Once, twice, three times, he advised exiting the market.

Chang Song, on the other hand, couldn’t even muster a straightforward warning about excessive risk, never advised against fighting the market, just dodged and equivocated.

The gap was immense—she was speechless.

“Five hundred thousand...” Staring at the stocks in her account, all showing losses, Qian Caiying’s face darkened. Less than a full day had passed since yesterday afternoon, and half a million was gone.

Should she keep holding, or cut her losses?

...

“Three hundred thousand gone!” In Shengxin’s reception room, Zhang Lizhen’s tone was furious. “The market opened and all my stocks hit their lower limit! The one and a half million I made back in a month and a half with Xiao Zhang—one fifth vanished in less than a single trading day, and it’s still falling!”

“It’s absolutely deliberate.”

“Enough talk! Take my account, I’m done. Just return my investment, now!”

Chang Song wasn’t present—there were too many clients needing reassurance, and he couldn't leave. Liang Xue, Director Sun, and Chairman You were all in the reception room, careful not to provoke her.

Zhang Lizhen’s belly was enormous; her due date was at the end of the month. What if she was pushed too far?

“Ahem, Sister Zhang...”

“Stop. Enough.” Zhang Lizhen cut Liang Xue off with a wave, not bothering to be polite. “In your company, I only trust Xiao Zhang. At least he helped me recover most of my losses. Now that he’s gone, what’s the point of talking? Is there anyone else capable of helping me earn back what I lost? Yes or no?”

“If not, then shut up.”

Liang Xue fell silent at once.

“Uh, Ms. Zhang...”

“Stop, you shut up too.” Director Sun had just started speaking when Zhang Lizhen cut him off again, bluntly. “I met you last time. Besides empty words, you offer nothing. Can you pay me back directly?”

Director Sun retreated, defeated.

Now only Chairman You, head of the trading department, remained. He had intended to reason with Zhang Lizhen, but seeing this, he thought better of it. He could finally empathize with old Zhu’s headache last time—this woman was impossible, both fierce and shameless.

And with her belly so huge, looking as if it might explode, the scene was nerve-wracking.

“Um, Ms. Zhang...” Chairman You cleared his throat and started, “I completely understand how you feel right now, but please don’t worry. Market fluctuations are normal—let’s wait and observe for a couple of days and manage risk carefully.”

“Stop, stop, stop!” Zhang Lizhen looked at Chairman You as if he were a fool, glaring. “Are you deaf or blind?”

“Are you here to make jokes?”

...

“One, two, three, here we go!” Zhang Long snapped his fingers, and, consulting today’s stock report from HSBC, chose a suitable entry point and bought in—five hundred thousand invested.

His first trade was a direct half-million, which delighted HSBC’s trading manager.

This man was certainly aggressive.

“Seven percent by tomorrow...” Zhang Long smacked his lips. HSBC’s top stock today was excellent; the others were either falling slightly or stagnant, but their main recommendation was rising well. Technically, it was at a support level, and the fundamentals had favorable news—hence the gains.

Big platforms were indeed different; their analyst teams could access little bits of insider information.

Some of it was true, some false.

But ultimately, whether they could recommend a stock to clients depended on judgment and analysis—a real test of skill. Small companies typically lacked this ability, all bluster and no substance.

“I’ll cash out this afternoon.”

After finishing his trades and browsing other stocks, Zhang Long stretched lazily and stood.

Last Friday, he’d applied for accounts at two platforms; yesterday, he funded and activated one. Tomorrow, after cashing out, he’d activate the second, with a day’s interval.

There was no choice; the deal was that initial activation funds had to be no less than three million to enjoy a commission rate of 0.025%.

Even after cashing out, the rate remained unchanged.

With UBS’s account activated tomorrow, he could operate both accounts with one and a half million each, enough for now. The third account would have to wait—not urgent.

“I’ll open it another day.”

Good things come to those who wait; with three accounts, a hundred thousand in each would be too little. Better to open the third after he’d made some money from HSBC and UBS.

...

Zhang Long lived at the Bund; Liang Xue knew this, but hadn’t called him for help.

This wasn’t just Zhang Lizhen’s problem—it was a mass issue among clients, the first real challenge for the trading department, and they had to face it themselves.

Of course, even if they sought Zhang Long’s help, it would be futile—Chairman You had driven him away.

Anyone with backbone wouldn’t bother.

“Three already...” Chairman You’s expression was grim. Zhang Lizhen had arrived early that morning, and by lunchtime, three clients had already shown up; there would be more in the afternoon.

If Shengxin mishandled this, and clients flocked in demanding explanations and compensation, what then?

“It’s not my problem.” At the emergency board meeting, old Zhu looked completely unfazed. Whether it was the investment department or trading department, it no longer concerned him—everything was fine until he stepped down a few days ago. Now, they had to solve their own problems.

You couldn’t rush for benefits and flee when trouble hit, passing the blame. What nonsense.

“Shengxin is a collective.” Chairman You looked around at everyone. “Market ups and downs are normal, but clients don’t care about that. They got used to earning money with Zhang Long leading them; now, faced with heavy losses, they can’t accept it.”

“We’ll drag it out as long as we can. The trading department hasn’t violated any rules; even if there’s a lawsuit, we’re not afraid.”

“But now, we can’t drag it out.” Chairman You’s tone was grave. “Forget Zhang Lizhen, a pregnant woman—just the fact that clients are swarming in, demanding explanations and compensation, is too much for us to handle.”

“We’re all in the same boat.”

If things got out of hand and Shengxin’s reputation collapsed, there’d be nothing left but bankruptcy.

“So, should we ask Zhang Long to return?” a director proposed, but before Chairman You could answer, someone else spoke up.

“Don’t even think about it.”

Everyone turned; Director Zhu’s lips curled in a mocking smile. “He won’t come back—not even if you carried him back in a sedan chair. You’re dreaming.”

“Wait and see if you don’t believe me.”