Chapter 73: Getting Arrested for Watching the Spectacle

Two major crashes struck at the beginning and middle of the month.

Among Shengxin’s clients, the average losses soared to over sixty percent, and when all was said and done, the older clients found themselves right back where they had started before Zhang Long’s guidance had brought them profits. The newer clients of September and October made some gains at first, only to lose them soon after—not much left in the end. The real tipping point, however, was the recommendation to chase after Yunfeng Technology; five consecutive limit-downs set off a panic, shattering everyone’s composure.

More than twenty clients banded together and showed up at the company’s doors.

...

“It’s gotten out of hand.”

Zhang Long stared at the message link sent by Liang Xue. This time, over twenty Shengxin clients arrived, banner in hand, and even summoned members of the press. Their determination was clear.

The incident had already become a trending topic online; otherwise, Liang Xue wouldn’t have sent a news link.

Shengxin refused to compromise or placate them. Instead, they called the police, and all the clients found themselves at the police station—whether for mediation or something else, it would all be handled there.

“How’s Old Chen?” Zhang Long’s eyes narrowed. There was no list of names online for the clients who came together; was Chen Youwei among them?

“Chen Youwei’s fine,” Liang Xue replied. On Wednesday, Chen Youwei had stormed in, cursing furiously. Whatever agreement was reached afterwards, it seemed to have resolved things, as he wasn’t among those who came today. Most of today’s group were smaller clients, with holdings of a few hundred thousand or perhaps one or two million—not major players.

“Picking on the weak, afraid of the strong, huh?” Zhang Long sneered. Earlier this month, Shengxin’s attitude towards visiting clients was different. Take Zhang Lizhen, whose husband was nearly bankrupt, and who herself was a housewife with no background—the company was very tough with her.

In the end, Zhang Lizhen had to give in; she couldn’t possibly remain at Shengxin heavily pregnant. If anything happened to the child, the regret would be endless.

Buzz. Buzz, buzz—

Zhang Long’s phone suddenly rang. Seeing it was a landline number, he answered, puzzled.

“Hello?”

“Is this Zhang Long...?”

Moments later, Zhang Long hung up, his brows furrowed, cursing his luck. Glancing at the time—just past eleven, nearly market close—he didn’t hesitate. He submitted a withdrawal request for his JunCai account. The funds would settle and reach his card after Monday.

He also closed out his positions in his HSBC and UBS accounts. The losses there were modest—just tens of thousands.

With his work done, he stood up, a wry grin on his face.

...

“Hm? Damn...”

At JunCai’s trading department, Zhang Long’s two-million withdrawal request immediately appeared in the back-office system. The advisory manager’s heart sank.

That bastard. One and a half million in principal plus half a million in profits, and he’s pulling it all out—how heartless can you get?

Why withdraw? Why not keep trading on Monday? If he doesn’t, there’s no transaction volume, no commissions.

“What’s going on?” The department director frowned. “Call Zhang Long and ask. Monday’s market for TuoHai Energy might not move up. If it reverses and falls, having the whole account in stocks with no cash buffer is far too risky.”

“There’s no problem with the withdrawal,” the director continued, “but at least leave one million to control risk. Make sure you explain that clearly. He’s an active, self-directed client—we need those trades.”

The advisory manager nodded, but Zhang Long hung up on the first call. Several minutes later, another call was ignored.

“We’ll try again this afternoon.” The director didn’t press it. The withdrawal request had already been submitted; the money wouldn’t be transferred until after Monday’s account settlement. There was still the afternoon and the weekend—if they could get through to him, maybe they could persuade him to leave a million as a safety net, for risk control and more scientific trading.

“Brother Long took a loss...”

At HSBC and UBS, both Qin Miaotong and Gu Su saw Zhang Long’s closing orders. For days, tens of thousands had been tied up in positions that hadn’t risen; now he’d closed at a loss.

Aggressive as Zhang Long was, he rarely held positions over the weekend to avoid unknown risks.

All right—at least that’s scientific trading.

Hopefully, some funds would come in next week. The last week of the month—time to make some real money, and rack up some commissions. Win-win.

...

At a certain police station.

The place was packed and lively. Zhang Long arrived around lunchtime, having been summoned by the police officer who called earlier, saying lunch was ready.

It wasn’t the police who had prepared the meal, but the group of Shengxin clients who’d come together.

During mediation, both sides kept mentioning Zhang Long’s name. The deadlock led to the suggestion that Zhang Long be brought in as a witness—a situation that left him speechless.

Collateral damage, he thought.

Whatever the clients’ motives—even if they bore a grudge against Shengxin—no one would perjure themselves by claiming Shengxin was a fraudulent platform embezzling client funds. If he said that, it would mean he’d been complicit while working there, profiting from ill-gotten gains.

No wonder these clients were so reckless and foolish, demanding Zhang Long be called as a witness. Their brains must have been squeezed in a door or kicked by a mule—utter fools.

“Zhang Long, right?”

As he entered the station, an officer seemed to recognize him at once, and, without further ado, led him straight to the mediation room. Zhang Long remained silent, wanting first to see what both sides were scheming before getting involved.

Click, click—the door opened.

Immediately, the room was filled with the hum of voices. Zhang Long stepped inside, glancing around instinctively. There were Shengxin’s directors You and Guan, as well as Chang Song, Jiang Hao, Zheng Peng, and others.

On the opposing side were more than twenty clients, several of whom Zhang Long recognized—Brother Wang, Brother Yin, and a few others.

Well then, it seemed that half of the group were once his own clients, whose fortunes had risen and fallen like a rollercoaster, their nerves now shattered.

As Zhang Long entered, all eyes turned to him, and the hubbub abruptly ceased.

The expert had arrived; they rushed to offer him a seat.

...

“Brother Long,” Chang Song greeted him, rising.

A member of the Blizzard Team, Chang Song had always gotten along well with Zhang Long—no conflicts between them. Jiang Hao and Zheng Peng, on the other hand, felt awkward and ashamed to face Zhang Long, who had once revived their fortunes, knowing they’d betrayed him.

Directors You and Guan merely glanced at him coolly, saying nothing. The clients’ suggestion of bringing Zhang Long in to confront and testify could only be called idiotic.

Of course, they knew the real aim—whether or not Zhang Long spoke for them, his presence alone would suffice.

Once there, they could consult him privately.

“Xiao Zhang—no, Zhang Long.”

Seeing that no one else spoke up, Brother Wang stood and greeted him with a smile. “Long time no see. Sorry to trouble you today.”

“We just want you to speak the truth.”

Zhang Long nodded coolly. Once Brother Wang finished explaining, Zhang Long shook his head. “Brother Wang, you must be joking. Whether Shengxin is legitimate is up to the regulators. I trust my former colleagues would not break the rules during their guidance—sorry.”

“Just the truth, nothing more.”

No one at Shengxin was surprised by his answer. The innocent have nothing to fear; their operation was legitimate.

If not, they would have closed up shop and made off with the money when the bull market ended and the bear market began. Why keep operating and burning through resources if there was no profit?

“Then why did you resign?” Some clients weren’t surprised by his statement but still questioned him. “You were doing well at Shengxin. We know your abilities—you were earning a good income. Why leave?”

“If Shengxin hadn’t minded you making money for us, you wouldn’t have been forced out. We’ve heard—you were pushed out.”

There was some truth to that.

But Zhang Long didn’t want to drag things out. He glanced at Director You, shrugged, and replied, “Winning and losing in the stock market is normal. Some people cash out when they win; others hold on until they’re deep in the red. I think I did a decent job advising.”

“But in October, I received a few complaints—accusations that I was deliberately churning trades for commissions.”

“Once you’re complained about, there’s nothing you can do. I lost out on a promotion and had a chunk of my pay docked.”

His gaze landed on Brother Yin, who looked uncomfortable. Zhang Long gave a strange smile. “What’s the point in staying if your heart’s not in it? Should I wait for more complaints?”

“All right, I’ve said my piece.”

“So, where’s lunch? I’m hungry.”