Chapter 20: A Spark in the Soul

The call ended.

Zhang Long let out a light breath—so far, so good.

Perhaps after the calm and anticipation of the weekend, Chen Youwei’s attitude was still acceptable; he didn’t complain about today’s immediate limit-down at market open.

They discussed roughly the next steps; if they wouldn’t cut their losses and exit, more funds would need to be added.

He’d consider it for a day and reply tomorrow.

...

“Sister Qian…”

Zhang Long spoke with calm confidence, “All three stocks are at solid technical support levels. They’re worth watching. Just set your sell orders, and let the stop-loss and take-profit do the rest.”

“As if it’s that simple.”

On the other end, Qian Caiying rolled her eyes with a pronounced pout. “It’s 5.5 million! That’s no small sum. A small fluctuation and you’re down tens of thousands—it’s a disaster.”

“Alright, I’m hanging up.”

She hung up decisively. Seeing this, Zhang Long just shrugged and moved on to the next call, busy as ever.

It’s worth mentioning that of the four major clients Liang Xue had shared before, two added new funds today—one with 1.5 million, the other with 2 million.

Not as much as Qian Caiying, but still quite substantial. The short-term trades rolled out, and so did the profits.

As for the other two clients he hadn’t reached initially, he finally got through, but they said they had no money until after National Day—which was a bit unfortunate.

Of course, you can’t trust everything a client says. Who knows if they actually have money but are just too risk-averse to try.

No matter—it wasn’t worth worrying about a client or two.

At present, his client accounts had roughly 20 million in active trading funds. With a commission rate of 0.05%, each transaction brought in 10,000, two would be 20,000.

The last week of September, Zhang Long’s main goal was trading volume, so he naturally pushed for more trades.

After all, clients didn’t lose money with him—at worst, they just made a bit less depending on their account situation. Since he planned to resign at the end of the month, he might as well rack up what he could.

“Hello, Brother Liu…”

Zhang Long’s tone was composed. “You received today’s stock recommendation, right? Keep a close eye on the rebound. Once there are gains, don’t get greedy—take profits when you can and lock them in.”

...

And so, Zhang Long launched into a final sprint for his end-of-month performance. He was busy all day and worked overtime at night, seizing every opportunity to communicate with clients—driven and full of passion.

Strangely, maybe because he was about to resign, his enthusiasm actually soared, as if injected with adrenaline.

The entire Liang Xue team, catching his energy, was also closing deals one after another. Old clients were adding funds for trading, and new clients were activating accounts—the momentum was explosive.

The Blizzard Team’s performance skyrocketed.

The relentless deal-making and fund additions usually seen only in a bull market were now happening in this bear market.

Not only in the past six months, but even in the last two or three years, the team had never achieved such results. For September, the Investment Department’s top performing team was already locked in: the Blizzard Team.

“Damn, what the—”

Some team supervisors were scratching their heads. They were clearly using Zhang Long’s scripts with clients, so why weren’t they getting his results? In fact, things were even falling apart.

New clients weren’t being activated, old clients weren’t adding funds, and some even said goodbye for good.

They’d either advise cutting losses or adding funds—clients would say don’t call again. Damn.

“Crap, another one blew up…”

Another supervisor wailed. Clients, frustrated by the hard-sell tactics, threatened to complain if pressed to add more funds or trade. Those stuck in losing positions saw no good intentions in being urged to put in more money—morale was low.

They just wanted to wait it out for the next bull market.

These situations weren’t isolated. The other seven teams in the Investment Department were seeing similar issues. While a few clients were goaded into adding funds and trading again, more were just annoyed or angry.

Worse, those who did add funds and traded again, after losing once more, didn’t hold back—they unleashed a torrent of colorful curses, stringing together invective from ancient times to the future.

...

“Brother Chen, today we…”

Zhang Long’s voice was resolute. On Tuesday, Chen Youwei had added two million, bringing his total with Shengxin to five million, at a commission rate of 0.03%.

Though the commission was lower, two million in short-term trades was still significant.

Gaining Chen Youwei’s trust hadn’t been easy. Zhang Long had nearly worn out his tongue before Chen finally put in another two million, though he stubbornly refused to sell his losing positions.

Sadly, despite making profits on short trades, with Tuohai Energy hitting limit-down every day, there were no real gains.

Still, the short trades were profitable, so Chen had no complaints and followed instructions dutifully.

There was no limit on the number of trades per day—as long as there were opportunities, Zhang Long would call and they’d trade. This was unlike Qian Caiying, who with several million would only make a single move per day and nothing more.

“Hmm?”

Suddenly, Liang Xue raised her eyebrows.

After Zhang Long finished his call, she called him over. “Zhang Lizhen just sold her stocks and applied to withdraw one million. Call and find out what’s going on.”

It was Thursday, and in fact, Zhang Lizhen wasn’t the only client to withdraw funds—seven or eight had done so.

With National Day approaching, people probably needed cash.

“Hello, Sister Zhang…”

On the other end, after understanding the reason for the call, Zhang Lizhen sighed. “Zhang, I’m sorry. The company has to pay employees, so I have to withdraw cash for emergencies. I know the more funds, the more I could earn, but there’s nothing I can do…”

She then explained her situation to Zhang Long in detail: the company was dissolving, she had to prepare for lawsuits to reclaim payments, so she could only cash out part of her investment.

“If things hadn’t reached a dead end, I’d never have made a scene at your company in the first place.”

“There’s only 750,000 left in the account now. I hope you don’t mind. After National Day, my livelihood will be in your hands. Sorry, little brother Zhang.”

...

That night, Zhang Long found it hard to sleep.

Dawn would bring Friday, and Saturday was a make-up workday for the Mid-Autumn Festival. He’d planned to resign on that day, but Zhang Lizhen’s sincere words echoed in his ears, lingering.

In truth, most people trapped in the stock market were in dire straits, usually bearing the weight of both elders and children.

Over the month, Zhang Lizhen wasn’t the only client to speak of hardship—work troubles, family issues, and more—but he’d mostly paid them little mind.

After all, it wasn’t really his business.

Yet Zhang Lizhen was a bit different. He’d seen her causing a ruckus at the company, even pregnant at the time. His initial offer to help was mainly to test his eye’s golden fingertip—he hadn’t felt much sympathy.

But as they traded together, he found Zhang Lizhen to be cooperative and trusting, following his instructions closely. She became his most loyal client, and he grew increasingly fond of her.

The “big sister, little brother” address was just a pleasantry—it wasn’t like they’d become real siblings.

Now, after fully understanding her family and business upheavals, his resignation plans clashed with a sense of responsibility.

“Damn it…”

Zhang Long gazed through the window at the moon hanging in the sky. The sixteenth’s moon was always fuller than the fifteenth’s, and as the Mid-Autumn Festival approached, it was indeed very round and bright.

Yet no matter how bright and gentle the moon, it couldn’t wash away his melancholy or make things go his way.

If he resigned at the end of the month, no matter to whom he handed over, Zhang Lizhen would likely suffer losses next month—as would other clients, turning gains into losses.

It wasn’t out of some overflowing savior complex, but when it came down to it, he couldn’t help but feel reluctant, especially for those good clients.

Especially those who trusted him completely, who didn’t complain even if they just broke even after multiple trades each day. They’d gone along with his push for trades to help him earn more commission in recent days.

“Well then, let’s finish what we started.”

Zhang Long whispered, then went to sleep.

Perhaps the golden fingertip in his eye could only be used within the company’s rules—perhaps it was meant to fulfill some social responsibility, not just to chase quick wealth and shortcuts.

Other people weren’t his concern, but as for his Shengxin clients, he had to handle them properly for now.

He’d help each client recover their losses, and any extra profits would be a bonus. At least when he left, he’d have no psychological burden. At the current reasonable pace of gains, it should take no more than two months.

Even with just 750,000 left in Zhang Lizhen’s account, if he could grow it back to her original three million—another 1.25 million in profits—it wouldn’t take long.

Besides, he’d still make good money from two months of active trading—it wasn’t wasted time.

Then, he’d have no more burdens.

He’d resign cleanly and be free.

PS: This chapter is a moment of inner reflection for Zhang Long—a transitional phase where, after winning five million and gaining his golden fingertip, he still holds true to himself and doesn’t become arrogant. Instant wealth and mysterious abilities make it hard to stay grounded without some life experiences. The specifics of his resignation will unfold in due course. Wishing everyone a pleasant read and my respectful regards!