Chapter 5: Profiting and Exiting

Depois do Divórcio, Consigo Ouvir a Voz do Futuro Vale da Floresta 2852 words 2026-08-05 04:02:21

In the blink of an eye, the stock price soared to 124.58 yuan, hitting the daily limit. The number of buy orders surged, with 1.25 million shares queued up for purchase in an instant. This figure was reassuring.

“Liang, impressive. I underestimated you,” Zhao Haisheng said, wide-eyed, unable to resist giving a thumbs-up.

As expected, the financing account they provided to Lu Liang had now ballooned to 830,000 yuan.

“Ah, saying that is just luck,” Lu Liang patted Zhao Haisheng’s shoulder. “I’ll head off now, won’t disturb your work.”

Over the next four trading days, Storm Technology firmly cemented its reputation as the “Market Demon.” Although it never hit a dramatic one-word limit-up board, it surged daily by 7 to 10 percent.

In no time, a new week arrived, and Storm Technology’s stock price reached 224.4 yuan per share.

“They must be switching hands at this high level!” Lu Liang sipped his coffee, recording the situation daily, observing market trends to learn from the experience.

With three days left and two more limit-ups needed, the feat of 37 limit-ups in 40 days was within reach. The highest price of 327 yuan was also getting closer.

That day, Storm Technology caused another stir, performing a “天地板” — it surged 10% to hit the limit-up board within the morning session, then suddenly broke the board half an hour later before plummeting to hit the limit-down and staying there until closing.

The entire market buzzed with bearish voices—either from paid trolls or retail investors swayed by the negative sentiment.

On forums like Tieba, Hupu, and Weibo, posts shouted, “The Demon King has fallen!” and “The market makers sure know how to play!”

Lu Liang smiled faintly, unaffected by the rumors.

Because from the available information, it was clear that the next two days would definitely see two limit-ups.

Therefore, it was easy to deduce that today’s dramatic up-and-down was designed to create a bearish atmosphere to accumulate shares stealthily, launching a final surge to attract retail investors to take the bait.

According to his research, 38 institutional investors had entered Storm Technology during this period, with the actual number likely even higher.

For institutions to lock in profits and exit successfully, they needed to attract a large number of retail investors to take over the shares.

Simply pushing up the stock price would only instill fear among retail investors, not drive them to chase higher.

Only by creating a sense of loss and regained opportunity could emotions be stirred. The final 30% of profit served as a “last meal” for those retail investors.

Those aware of this would successfully escape with their funds; those unaware would become the ultimate bag holders.

“Time to switch to another book,” Lu Liang thought.

Having finished reading *Fundamentals of Financial Markets and Institutions*, he chose not to delve deeper into financial market knowledge.

No matter how thoroughly one studies finance, the market is ultimately a tool for people—it’s better to study the root source directly.

The two limit-ups arrived as scheduled over the next two days.

The stock price soared to 274.52 yuan, still 19% short of the peak at 327 yuan.

On Thursday, May 21, Storm Technology was just three days shy of its two-month listing anniversary.

That day, market sentiment was extremely restless.

By 10:30 a.m., one hour into trading, the turnover rate reached 52%, with a trading volume exceeding 3 billion yuan.

The price movement was erratic—sometimes rising five or six points, other times falling four or five points—giving an unpredictable impression.

However, since the last dramatic up-and-down board was followed by two limit-ups, retail investors’ confidence had greatly increased.

Moreover, Storm Technology was an “Internet Plus” trending company, with a market value just reaching 40 billion yuan.

Experts from all sides proclaimed it to be China’s YouTube, claiming a trillion-yuan market cap and thousand-yuan stock price were within reach.

Besides, with the A-share index breaking through 4,500 points, such a booming market was practically begging for blind enthusiasm.

Retail investors were so easily misled they lost their ability to think independently, becoming mere lambs in a flock.

“If I didn’t know the future news, would I be like them?” Lu Liang pondered seriously, his expression darkening as he realized the answer was likely yes.

When inside the game, one doesn’t realize they are a player; human greed is endless—once you have something, you want more.

Thinking of this, Lu Liang dared not be too greedy. Around 310 yuan, he began selling small portions of his 34,000 shares.

After clearing his personal account, he logged into the broker’s financing account and sold 6,600 shares in a single transaction.

In such a fervent market, selling 40,000 shares was like throwing a small stone into the ocean—no ripples stirred.

“Personal account has 10.54 million yuan, financing account 2.046 million yuan,” he noted.

“Deducting 520,000 yuan in financing principal and interest,” he continued.

“After principal deduction, the balance is 12.066 million yuan.”

Lu Liang was dazed. Two months ago, he had sold his house and had only about 100,000 yuan in liquid funds; even leveraging all his credit, he had barely over 600,000 yuan.

Now, he had become a millionaire.

Taking a deep breath to steady his excitement, he called Zhao Haisheng.

“Haisheng, help me settle the financing account.”

Zhao Haisheng was stunned, quickly opening the regulatory system and discovering that Lu Liang had fully cleared his positions. He couldn’t help but remind him, “Liang, even if it’s less than a month, there’s a 10% fee.”

Lu Liang replied, “It’s fine. The 520,000 yuan principal and interest, just deduct it directly.”

“Liang, please come by the branch this afternoon to sign the settlement contract,” Zhao said.

At two in the afternoon, Lu Liang returned to the Guotai branch, which was still bustling with people opening accounts one after another.

At 10 a.m., the market broke through 4,500 points, igniting a nationwide stock frenzy; the older generation nostalgically exclaimed it reminded them of ’92.

Stock trading had become a trend.

Lu Liang was invited into the VIP room. Watching the frenzied investors downstairs, a strange glint flickered in his eyes.

He had recently tried to put himself in the “market maker’s” shoes; the crowd before him was a lush field of “chives” ripe for harvest.

Lu Liang thought it must be nearing the peak—the financial sector was not China’s pillar industry; real estate was.

Zhao Haisheng printed the contract and smiled, “Liang, have you heard any insider news?”

“What I’m sensing is just the market’s overheated mood; I’m afraid of getting caught up,” Lu Liang joked.

“That’s true; we should all calm down,” Zhao replied politely, not pressing further.

He glanced at the market chart on the wall: Storm Technology was up 7.55% that day, about to hit the limit-up again.

Zhao couldn’t help but smile; as a seasoned professional, he wouldn’t miss such a market.

Lu Liang was still too cautious. With the market so strong, soon to challenge 5,000 points, it was hard for individual stocks to fall.

But having made enough profit, cashing out now was reasonable.

“Damn, I sold too early,” Lu Liang muttered, following his gaze with a hint of regret.

Zhao reassured him, “Liang, it’s better to secure the gains early.”

Lu Liang sighed, “Who ever complains about having too much money?”

Zhao smiled without replying and handed over the settlement contract.

“Take a look, the balance is 1.536 million yuan.”

Lu Liang checked and signed his name.

Zhao said, “Liang, funds will arrive in two hours. Please check then.”

“We recently launched a mixed fund that rose 25% in the past month. Interested in learning more?”

Zhao didn’t know exactly how much Lu Liang had earned with his 68 lots, but conservatively estimated it wasn’t less than 6 million yuan.

That meant Lu Liang now controlled at least 7.5 million yuan in liquid assets. If he invested a million in the fund, Zhao would earn a 15,000 yuan commission.

“Better to rest for a while. Watching the market every day makes my heart race; I can’t even sleep,” Lu Liang laughed off the offer.

Funds, after all, rarely outperform stocks when rising and fall even more when declining.

Most funds don’t profit from market gains but from continuous trading fees, ensuring steady income regardless of market conditions.

As for clients, they’re simply brushed off with the phrase: investment involves risks.

If there’s profit to be made, it’s purely thanks to favorable market conditions, not their management.