Chapter 64 The Devouring Consecutive Plummets
Daybreak came, and the sun was already high in the sky. Zhang Long shook his head, still feeling the dull ache from last night's drinking, his vision slowly clearing. Something was off.
He looked around at the unfamiliar bedroom, faintly scented with traces of feminine fragrance. Instantly, a shiver of clarity jolted him awake. Dry-mouthed, he turned to glance at the other side of the soft bed—what on earth...
...
“Leave when you wake up. Close the door,” read the message on WeChat.
Zhang Long scratched his head, got up, and went to wash. Liang Xue had thoughtfully prepared a cup, toothbrush, and new towel, saving him the trouble of going home disheveled.
At the bathroom sink, Zhang Long brushed his teeth while craning his neck to check for any marks—if there were any, he'd have struck gold.
“Phew, thank goodness,” he sighed in relief. His memory was hazy, but he recalled having a lively meal and drinks with Liang Xue last night. Beer was still alcohol, after all—it could dull nerves and stir up certain moods. Embarrassingly, he’d gotten drunk first.
That much he was sure of.
So, after he got drunk, Liang Xue must have helped him to the bedroom, undressed him down to his thermal clothes, which remained on, and his feet were dry.
No doubt, Liang Xue must have wiped them for him.
“Ugh, how humiliating,” Zhang Long thought, a flash of embarrassment in his eyes—four or five beers and he was down, not even as good as Liang Xue.
As for Liang Xue’s morning meeting with Qian Caiying, she had invited him, but he didn’t want to go.
They’d talked about it yesterday.
“Hmm? Sharing a bed?”
Suddenly Zhang Long froze. There was only one thick quilt in the bedroom. When he woke, he hadn’t thought much of it, but now—he realized he’d slept beside Liang Xue, in the same bed.
No wonder his body still smelled so fragrant.
“Buddha preserve me,” he muttered, finishing brushing his teeth and rinsing his mouth vigorously, shaking his head to banish any memory of what happened with Liang Xue last night. He had no recollection—how utterly shameful.
He wondered which ancestor he inherited his poor tolerance from; getting drunk was dangerous. One day, someone might pick him up off the street—what a disaster!
...
“Hey, come back to earth,”
At a private restaurant, Qian Caiying waved her plump hand in front of Liang Xue. “You look absent-minded—who are you thinking of? Zhang Long or Zhao Hu?”
“No, just thinking about work,” Liang Xue replied, returning to herself, though a faint blush flashed across her face and she coughed to cover it up.
“Yeah right, as if I’d believe that!” Qian Caiying rolled her eyes. “With those dreamy eyes, you think I’m blind? It’s obvious Zhang Long won’t agree to be Hongze’s consultant just for you—I’m not stupid. Anyway, hurry up and switch jobs.”
This topic left Qian Caiying annoyed. After Zhang Long left her hanging for two days, she finally realized what was going on. She always prided herself on being clever and reading people, but she’d missed this completely.
She should have seen and confirmed it much earlier.
“Ms. Qian, why?” Liang Xue looked up, perplexed and uncertain. “Why do you value Zhang Long’s abilities so much? He doesn’t seem particularly outstanding. Why insist on him as Hongze’s consultant? What’s the real reason?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Qian Caiying rolled her eyes again, speaking with annoyance. “Do I know if Zhang Long’s got real skills? He coached me for a month and a half, and I made 2.5 million—was that just luck?”
“You know the quality of Shengxin’s stock recommendation reports, but Zhang Long can judge them accurately.”
“That’s a talent for sensing the market.”
Qian Caiying smacked her lips and continued, “Think of it as a sixth sense, like mine, though mine works differently.”
“Anyway, you wouldn’t understand. You’re ordinary—just average. We’re on a whole different level.”
Liang Xue broke into a sweat, then her face darkened. Who spoke like that? If Qian Caiying didn’t look so sincere, not mocking, she’d have thrown a whole pot of tea at her. Infuriating.
Zhang Long was right—she deserved to be left hanging!
...
“Brother, I’m suffering,”
The next day, Sunday, although Lin Yuan had passed the first driving test, there were still two more to go. He continued his driving school lessons and practice, pouring out his complaints.
“I majored in art, but my overbearing uncle forced me into renovation work—it’s totally mismatched.”
“Frustrating, so frustrating.”
Lin Yuan looked utterly despondent. “Every morning, I report to the company, and the earliest I get home is after ten at night. No nightlife anymore.”
“No more lovely girls.”
Listening to someone else’s woes, Zhang Long, like most people, found amusement in others’ misfortune. “Karma.”
“Hmph, my fate is mine to decide!” Lin Yuan retorted with pride. “It’s just temporary compromise—my uncle’s too domineering, and even my own mom sides with him. No one supports me.”
“But honestly, brother, we’ve known each other a while now, and I still don’t know what you do.”
“Don’t give me some fake story, don’t fool me.”
Zhang Long never planned to lie, so he shrugged and smiled, “I’m sort of a freelancer. Used to be in finance, but you know how the bear market is…”
Lin Yuan nodded knowingly.
Not only had his uncle lost a lot in the stock market, but his mother was also caught up—close to ten million.
His middle-aged mother had opened several beauty salons and made good money, but nearly half was sunk into the stock market. If she’d given him that money, how many lovely girls could he have dated?
Hundreds, maybe thousands—right up to middle age!
“Hmm? Renovation company?”
Suddenly, Zhang Long’s eyes lit up. If he remembered correctly, Zhang Lizhen’s husband worked in renovation, but had been nearly ruined by unscrupulous partners.
Lin Yuan seemed decent—maybe… no, it wasn’t his concern.
Everyone has their own destiny.
Whatever happens is meant to be!
...
“Three million has arrived. Activate.”
Monday came again. The three million withdrawn from HSBC and UBS settled in his account. Without hesitation, Zhang Long transferred it into his Jun Cai account and contacted the trading manager to activate the funds.
But today’s activation meant operations would only be possible tomorrow, so the Jun Cai account was temporarily useless.
As for HSBC and UBS? He’d wait and see.
“One day won’t make a difference,” Zhang Long murmured, flipping through the stock recommendation reports sent from all three platforms. Notably, Jun Cai’s recommendations included Yunfeng Technology.
Perfect—he could predict in advance.
“Huh? Damn…”
He searched for Yunfeng Technology and saw the chart his foresight drew for the stock’s future performance. He couldn’t help but curse—this was a death trap.
“Whoever buys is doomed.”
Zhang Long clicked his tongue. Yunfeng Technology opened higher today, with morning swings up and down.
But in the afternoon, the battle would intensify. Whether retail investors or speculative funds, just before the close, the price would plunge, triggering a trading halt, followed by four consecutive days of opening at the limit-down. No chance to escape—completely trapped.
A giant pit—a bottomless abyss.
In short, whether you bought last week or today thinking the price hadn’t dropped—if you didn’t sell before the halt, you’d lose half your holdings.
As for what happens next week?
Ha, it doesn’t matter. Anyone with sense knows it’ll keep falling—Yunfeng is a lost cause.
“Damn, might as well hold on.”
At 9:30, the market opened. In the stock chat group, a veteran who had profited from Yunfeng Technology was beating his chest—today’s 4.5% rise at open was practically a gift, and it looked like the price would keep climbing. If he hadn’t sold last Friday—damn!
“Yunfeng’s about to fly, buy more!”
The veteran lost his composure, sent his message, then fell silent—probably bought back into Yunfeng.
Zhang Long said nothing. Even if he did, it wouldn’t help. If you bought today, you couldn’t sell until tomorrow.
That veteran was trapped, hopeless.
As for the financial platform’s clients—tragic!