Chapter 78: The Wool-Gathering Scheme?

Yunfeng Technology.

As the stock that moved in opposition to Tohai Energy last week, although it didn't open at the limit-down this week, it was close enough—still plunging. Zhang Long, who no longer held shares, couldn't see the precise trajectory for the coming days, but he could imagine it wouldn't be pretty.

…

"Feng, are you still alive?"

Someone in the stockholders' chat group asked, "It's almost market close—should we cut our losses on Yunfeng Technology?"

"Yeah, Feng, should we sell?"

Feng wasn't the only one in the group who'd bought Yunfeng Technology; there were two or three others, and perhaps some hidden deeper, but Zhang Long didn’t know for sure.

"I'm not selling. Do as you please," Feng replied. With losses nearing fifty percent, selling would be pointless—it was better to wait for a rebound someday. Trading stocks in a bear market is just too hard. If there were other stocks with upward momentum, perhaps he'd consider cutting his losses. But now, hope was scarce. Whether it was stock forums or major financial platforms recommending picks, the accuracy was frighteningly low—whatever you bought, you lost big.

Even if you were lucky enough to find a quality stock that kept rising, it was of no use—most people couldn't hold on. They'd grab a small profit and run, afraid of another drop, only to see the price soar after they sold, leaving them regretful and heartbroken. They'd hesitate, then finally jump back in, only for the stock to plummet again—just as Yunfeng Technology did last Monday. It was always the same story.

Human nature, mindset, capital—these three, even if kept in a scientific balance, still make it hard to profit in the financial market.

"Tohai Energy is incredible!"

One member clicked their tongue. "Three limit-ups last week, another at open today, and it's likely to keep rising. Shame we can't get in now. Should've bought earlier, at 1.2 yuan—it was perfect. Who could’ve guessed it would explode like this?"

"Yeah, hindsight is useless," another shrugged. "The limit-ups will end eventually, but would you dare chase after it then? No way!"

"What if it turns out like Yunfeng Technology?"

…

"Uncle, did you want to see me?"

In the president’s office of Tengda, Lin Yuan was called over by Chen Youwei at dinnertime and asked directly, "You didn't come home last night, and only clocked in at lunchtime today?"

"Do you still want to work here?!"

Lin Yuan, chastised, looked sullen. Of course, he wanted to snap back that he didn't want the job, but he didn't dare.

"Stay away from Du Hong," Chen Youwei ordered, knowing full well what kind of person his nephew was. He raised an eyebrow. "The spot market isn't strictly regulated—or at least, not fully. Don't get involved."

"Sure, it makes a lot of money, but the risks are huge! If it blows up, you’ll be in serious trouble."

"Yeah, I know," Lin Yuan replied.

But Lin Yuan wasn’t convinced. He argued, "Some of those spot exchanges are approved by the State Council, so the platforms must be legit—what’s the problem?"

"At least it's more interesting than stocks. Margin trading, leverage, free trading up and down around the clock."

"I think it’s fine, nothing to worry about."

Seeing Lin Yuan talk back, Chen Youwei glared at him. "What do you know? The exchanges are legitimate, but Du Hong's company might not be. The Du family has never done legitimate business. If you just want to fool around with women, I won’t interfere, but don’t even think about investing."

"Do you know why they’re pulling you in? So that when things blow up, you'll be the scapegoat."

"Just keep your distance."

Young people are rebellious—Chen Youwei knew, he'd been the same once. This time, placing Lin Yuan in Tengda’s renovation department as a supervisor was meant to keep him away from Du Hong’s circle, to prevent him from getting burned.

Chen Youwei was certain: Du Hong’s financial company was absolutely betting against its clients, taking positions against them. There was nothing wrong with watching trends or trading, but when clients made the right call and profited, they could withdraw their money without issue—yet there was always a hidden bomb waiting to go off. So, best not to get involved. Otherwise, when it all blew up, Lin Yuan would be the one blamed.

…

"Familiarize yourself with the home renovation department as quickly as possible," Chen Youwei said, his tone turning serious after the scolding. "Old Zhao knows exactly why you’re here, but he can’t stop it—the mess he’s made is too big."

"Uh, will we lose the lawsuit?" Lin Yuan scratched his head.

Chen Youwei neither confirmed nor denied. "Fifty-fifty. Even if the other side has solid evidence, we can stall. But Tengda won’t let it come to that. When the time comes, Old Zhao will take the fall."

"It was his own doing, after all."

Lin Yuan nodded, understanding somewhat. Zhao Hui of the home renovation department hadn’t just embezzled the final payments from Zhan Yi’s renovation company—he’d also lost close to twenty million in the stock market, not to mention expenses for mistresses and affairs. He’d stolen quite a bit.

Yet Zhao Hui was a founding elder of Tengda, which was why he’d been trusted to manage a subsidiary's renovation department solo. Chen Youwei still valued loyalty.

Dragging out the lawsuit was just a stopgap measure. If a bull market returned and Zhao Hui’s stocks rebounded, he’d have the money to pay back Zhan Yi and others. As for property, Zhao Hui had already mortgaged everything and poured it into the stock market—otherwise, he wouldn’t have touched company funds.

"Uncle, will Mr. Zhao run?" Lin Yuan asked, scratching his head.

"He can’t," Chen Youwei replied coldly. "If he tries, we’ll drag him back from the ends of the earth."

"You don’t need to worry about anything else. Just get to know the home renovation department and prepare to take over operations in the future."

"The country's economy depends on real industry. As long as real estate thrives, Tengda will do well."

"Don't chase after empty schemes."

By "empty schemes," he certainly meant Du Hong’s spot trading company. The revenue might look great now, but the bigger the profit, the bigger the risk. As long as they didn’t get caught or investigated, it was fine—but if things blew up, it meant bankruptcy and jail time.

Earning commissions from client trades was one thing, but deliberately betting against clients and eating into their capital was both against the rules and illegal.

Of course, for now, things were still safe.

…

"Mr. Zhang, this way please."

Time slipped to Wednesday morning. With his trades for the week done, Zhang Long, with nothing better to do, visited a spot trading firm. Even back at Shengxin, he’d received countless sales calls from such platforms—and after leaving, they hadn't stopped.

At present, spot trading was still on the right side of the law. At least, the major exchanges were State Council-approved, and most licensed financial platforms under them were legitimate. But further down the chain, things got murkier.

Some platforms operated as licensed intermediaries, not directly connected to the exchanges. Most such companies had shady dealings.

Whether Du Hong’s Rongjin Precious Metals was an intermediary or a licensed principal platform didn’t concern Zhang Long. He’d once opened a precursor of a futures account, but couldn’t predict outcomes. Otherwise, he’d have been playing futures long ago—going long or short, daily T+0 trading, unlimited transactions.

He’d previously downloaded spot trading software, but without an account, he hadn’t seen any predictive feedback. If he had one, maybe he’d see something—if so, he could trade, as long as he didn’t get too greedy.

Depending on the size of the platform, one could make hundreds of thousands to tens of millions; more if the platform was larger. If it went past a hundred million, that would be risky.

In his previous life, he hadn’t paid much attention to spot trading platforms, but vaguely remembered their heyday before most major exchanges were gradually shut down.

Still, as a client, there was nothing to fear—if you lost, it was gone; if you won, the profit was yours. As long as you could win, you were free to play.

The pity was, spot trading was highly volatile, with leveraged margin trading. Many people approached it with a stock trader's mentality, refusing to cut losses and being forcibly liquidated.

With stocks, you could hold out for years, hoping for a rebound. In spot trading, that hope didn’t exist. If you kept losing and refused to cut your losses, you just kept pouring money in. The moment you couldn’t top up, it was game over.

"Huixin?" Zhang Long’s eyes lit up. If his eyes could predict spot trading trends, he wouldn’t worry about losses—only about how much profit the platform would tolerate.

Fortunately, spot platforms allowed unlimited account openings, even under the same exchange—as long as the licenses differed.

For example: finish with Huixin, then move on to Rongjin, then on to others, and so on—as long as you didn’t get blacklisted.

Zhang Long resolved not to be greedy: hit a dozen platforms, and he could make at least a few hundred million, right?

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