Chapter 88: Qian Xiaoniu, Who Knows Gratitude and Repays Kindness

Making money can be addictive.

Trading spot commodities is much like gambling—the thrill is irresistible regardless of the outcome. Watching the price fluctuations on the screen and the swings in the account balance brings a sharp, exhilarating rush, almost a tremor.

Although the "golden finger" could only foresee three times, that didn't mean Zhang Long couldn't analyze and play on his own.

...

"Damn it!"

Zhang Long cursed as he bought twenty long contracts near 6,300 points, just to test the waters. Of course, he set a stop-loss. In the end, including the spread, he was stopped out after a forty-point drop—forty thousand gone, and another ten thousand taken as commission, resulting in a fifty-thousand loss on this trade. Damn.

He then went short with another twenty contracts, only for the market to rebound and rise again—another loss.

Two trades, a hundred thousand gone.

"Shit, you're something else," Zhang Long breathed out, glancing at the international silver price. It was moving in tandem with the domestic market. The trading platform, the source of Silver Exchange, wouldn't dare to fake the market—volatility was fierce, and no one could win every time.

Most clients don't cut losses honestly, and when the losses mount, it becomes a heavy blow. The platform doesn't fear clients who win, only those who stop trading. There's nothing else.

"Brother Long's luck has run dry..."

"That's normal. Trying to catch a rebound at 6,300 is fine, and shorting on a breakdown is fine too. But spot trading is just that erratic—swings are unpredictable and significant. It’s normal to have consecutive wins and losses."

"But Brother Long seems a bit cautious now. He made quite a profit during the day, but at night, he only plays with twenty lots at a time and always sets a forty-point stop-loss. That's rational."

"Just proves Brother Long isn’t reckless. He doesn’t hesitate to take profits, and he accepts losses when they come."

"Look, he's at it again."

After losing two trades in a row, Zhang Long calmed himself as silver returned to 6,300 points. After a quick analysis, he chose to go short—fifty contracts, all in.

This would be the last trade of the night, win or lose.

...

"Brother Long's traded 220 contracts today, hasn't he?"

"Yes. Judging by this fifty-lot short, all with stop-losses and take-profits set, this should be the last trade."

"It's already half past ten—time to get some sleep."

Wang Jing said nothing. At this hour, she was on her way home. The market volatility tonight wasn't too strong, but Zhang Long had given her ninety lots' worth of trading volume.

If this fifty-lot short was indeed the last, today's total would be 220 contracts.

In other words: the commission would be substantial.

Spot trading commissions are much higher than stocks, and there are no limits on the number of daily trades. On good days, a single day's commission could surpass a whole month's earnings on the stock side. Since Silver Exchange opened, some trading advisors like her have made as much as a million a month.

Tens or hundreds of thousands is common.

Compared to stockbrokers who can barely make a living, spot trading professionals have it much better.

Of course, whether it’s stocks, spot, futures, or forex, most practitioners earn their pay from clients’ trades. There are hardly any consistent winners in any market—unless you're a master or it's a bull market.

Just breaking even is already impressive.

...

Enough. No point overthinking. This is how finance professionals make their living. Investors win or lose by their own trades—no one forces them.

Once you choose to bet in the financial casino, profit and loss are both part of the game.

You must accept and bear both the good and the bad.

"Phew. Still no result?"

After his nightly routine, Zhang Long took one last look at the trading screen. Prices had fallen, but only just enough to cover the spread and commissions. The previous two trades had lost a hundred thousand, and he hadn’t made it back yet.

No matter. Time to sleep. Whether he wins or loses, the system will close his position automatically. If this trade loses, he’ll just earn it back tomorrow.

That’s fine too—playing for fun, let fate decide wins and losses. The real profits come from his three daily glimpses into the future.

At least there’s no need to deliberately lose. The more times you play, the more likely mistakes will outnumber successes.

That’s the hard truth—cruel and unsentimental.

...

"Unbelievable."

At dawn, spot silver opened for trading at six o'clock, but Zhang Long slept in as usual. He hadn’t shut down his computer—the screen lit up, and to his surprise, the position was still open.

Neither stop-loss nor take-profit had been triggered.

Looking at last night’s price action, he couldn’t help but feel a twinge—it missed his take-profit by just three points.

"Oh well, let’s wait."

Nothing to be done. The price had rebounded again, so he’d wait and see whether the market would drop or climb this morning. For now, the position would stay open.

A while later, after breakfast, Zhang Long prepared to trade stocks.

Yesterday, none of the three platforms—HSBC, UBS, and JunCai—had any quality stocks worth buying. What about today?

"Only one?"

After reviewing all three stock reports, only UBS recommended a pharmaceutical stock with potential for an 18% gain—not huge, but not bad either.

After some thought, he bought one million worth on each of the three accounts, keeping another million in each for other opportunities.

Some might lose, some might gain a little.

To be honest, holding three million in shares for a 17% gain and selling on Friday for a profit of half a million isn't small. There’s no need to be greedy in all markets when the spot market is still profitable.

"It’s moving!"

Qin Miaotong at HSBC’s eyes sparkled.

Although Zhang Long didn’t buy the stock her platform recommended, at least he was active.

If he’s trading, he won’t be thinking about withdrawing his funds.

"Only a million?"

Gu Su at UBS pouted, a bit greedy. There were two million in the account—he used to go all in. Why so cautious today?

Brother Long, please trade more! It’s hard to make money in a bear market. Without more trades, there’s no commission.

If only she’d worked in spot or futures—those salespeople made a killing.

Buy a car in two months, a house down payment in six!

Comparison breeds resentment.

...

"If you spot a good opportunity, text me."

With that, Zhang Long paid no more attention to Silver Exchange. The volatility wasn’t high, and his previous trade was still open. As for withdrawing funds, he decided to wait—there was no rush. He’d cash out a million once he’d made three.

Principal back, play with the profits.

"Hmm? Still not done?"

With no action in spot trading and the stock trades complete, Zhang Long glanced at Qian Caiying’s message. She was slow—hadn’t she sorted out the account yesterday?

Managing funds on behalf of clients is common in the industry. As long as you don’t collude with the platform, it’s not a violation.

Of course, this kind of arrangement has no absolute legal protection. If there are losses or gains, and the principal wants to breach the contract, you can’t stop them. But as long as character isn’t lacking, it’s worth the risk.

If everyone was too cautious, all fund managers and asset managers would be out of work.

"Sweetie, just a bit more."

At Hongze Financial, Qian Caiying still wasn’t ready. Setting up the platform account was easy, but coming up with ten million was tough. Not all rich kids have all their assets in cash—cars, houses, stocks, gold, and jewelry all count.

Her villa belonged to her family and would only be transferred to her name after marriage. The car was a birthday gift from her family a couple of years ago. The rest was pieced together from pocket money and borrowing here and there—just a few million.

So the "rich lady's" reserves weren’t so grand.

"I don’t have much left, either."

Ling Zhiqing massaged her forehead. She could cover the missing three million, but could she trust him?

Zhang Long was young—was he reliable?

"Let’s give it a try," Qian Caiying shrugged. "It’s a bear market. Desperate times call for desperate measures. Maybe he’ll turn things around and boost our bottom line."

"Come on, don’t hesitate."

Qian Caiying was doing this for Hongze’s future. After some thought, Ling Zhiqing chose to support her. She transferred three million, leaving her petty cash nearly empty. The company had costs, and they’d already invested a lot.

They hoped for a turnaround—and with that, they’d have more value in their family’s eyes.

They’d have a choice in their own lives.

"Thank you, darling!"

Qian Caiying blew Ling Zhiqing a kiss and left, topping up the account with ten million before handing it to Zhang Long. The partnership was officially underway.

If Zhang Long really had the skill and could help Hongze, she’d remember his kindness in the future.

Favors come in all sizes, but gratitude must be returned.