After Divorce, I Can Hear the Future

Chapter 61: No Gain Without Sacrifice

TeLi A surged by 10.05%, closing at 10.85 yuan.  

Lu Liang no longer held back. Like countless speculative funds flooding into state-owned enterprise stocks, he aggressively purchased shares at the limit-up price, buying as much as the market offered until there was no more available.  

Retail investors, no fools themselves, generally agreed: a limit-up today meant a high open tomorrow.  

By the end of the day, Lu Liang's position exceeded 40 million yuan, with a total of 37,383 lots at an average cost of 10.65 yuan per share. With a profit of 20 yuan per lot, his gains barely covered the cost of a BMW 3 Series after fees.  

That evening at 5:30 p.m., TeLi A appeared on the daily Dragon and Tiger List, revealing the top three institutional buyers:  

1. Zhongxin Fuying  
2. Fuhua Road No. 12  
3. Punian Road No. 88  

“Fuhua Road is tied to Wu Junle from CITIC Securities, also known as the ‘God of Stocks’ in Shenzhen. He’s been active in the market for over a decade,” Lu Liang mused as he studied the disclosures from the Shenzhen Stock Exchange.  

On his desk were three sets of documents: one on TeLi A, another on Zhongxin Fuying, and the last on Fuhua Road No. 12.  

The more Lu Liang delved into the connections, the more convinced he became that someone was orchestrating this for profit. The state-owned enterprise reform narrative alone couldn’t justify TeLi A’s meteoric rise. With a circulating stock of over 7 billion shares, a tenfold surge in price was no coincidence.  

Meanwhile, Li Jianlin and Wu Junle also received details on Punian Road No. 88 and Lu Liang’s background.  

“Guotai Securities, Lu Liang? Old Wu, you used to work in Magic City. Ever heard of him?” Li Jianlin asked.  

After a moment of thought, Wu Junle shook his head. “Judging by the registration, he’s likely a retail trader, trying to join the game.”  

“What should we do?”  

“Handle it, of course,” Wu replied with a knowing smile.  

The two shared a glance, their unspoken understanding clear.  

They had spent months planning this operation, securing lock-up agreements with key stakeholders to engineer a significant price surge. They anticipated TeLi A reaching at least 50 yuan—yielding a 400% profit.  

If it were just a lucky retail investor, they might overlook it. But if a peer dared to intrude, they wouldn’t hesitate to crush them.  

The next day, at 11:15 a.m., fifteen minutes before the morning session closed, TeLi A’s upward trajectory abruptly turned volatile.  

The stock, which opened up 4.6% and peaked at a 7.5% gain, plummeted during the final minutes of trading.  

From 7.5% to 5.5% to 2.5%...  

By the noon close, only a 1.25% gain remained. Observers noted that if not for the intermission, the stock would have dropped further.  

“So, they’re trying to flush me out?”  

Lu Liang’s smile didn’t falter. Instead, he began considering how to cooperate with their efforts.  

Without playing along, they might hesitate to launch a new rally. Since he had already achieved his primary objective, he decided to indulge them.  

The situation felt like a suspenseful drama, where an insignificant side character in the beginning ultimately reaped the rewards. By the time the truth came out, many jaws would drop, and Punian Road No. 88’s name would gain considerable notoriety.  

When the market reopened at 1:00 p.m., TeLi A continued its descent, turning red.  

The shift wasn’t particularly surprising. The state-owned enterprise reform narrative was a minor wave, insufficient to drive a true bull market. After two days of gains, a pullback was expected.  

Lu Liang remained patient. Washing out weak hands took time, and the performance had to be convincing. He needed to ensure they believed he was gone.  

Over the next few days, the stock steadily declined, breaking below 9 yuan.  

At 8.75 yuan, Lu Liang began his counterplay. He sold 10 lots while quietly buying back 20, subtly rebuilding his position. Despite holding only a small portion of the shares, his constant trading caused the turnover rate to skyrocket, averaging 17% daily.  

“There’s a shareholder lock-up,” Lu Liang concluded with a grim expression.  

If the lock-up wasn’t tied to Li Jianlin and Wu Junle, he wouldn’t believe it. They were likely coordinating to leverage the lock-up, minimizing capital outlays to drive the biggest possible rally.  

Lu Liang’s analysis suggested that the first phase of the rally would end around 40-50 yuan. Pushing the price further risked drawing regulatory scrutiny.  

Beyond 108 yuan—the eventual peak—the market would be out of their control, driven by retail and institutional speculators.  

At 8.75 yuan, with a 4.55% loss, Lu Liang completed his position rebuild: 65,000 lots at an average cost of 9.5 yuan, totaling 62 million yuan.  

Each lot incurred a loss of 75 yuan, leaving him with an unrealized loss of 4.9 million yuan.  

“No gain without sacrifice,” Lu Liang smirked, adopting a kǔ ròu jì (strategic sacrifice) approach to feign defeat.  

But Li Jianlin and Wu Junle’s caution was unexpected—they didn’t act immediately. For the next several days, the stock continued its steady decline, seemingly unconvinced that Lu Liang had been shaken out.  

Lu Liang held firm, locking his position. He wouldn’t move until the stock soared past 30 yuan.  

On Thursday afternoon, Lu Liang received an invitation from Meng Changkun to go deep-sea fishing.  

“Leaving at two? Sure!”  

After a hectic few weeks filled with twists and turns, Lu Liang had finally completed his position-building phase. The timing felt perfect for a break, so he readily accepted.  

Realizing he had a scheduled English lesson with Su Wanyu, he called to cancel, noting that their initial 20-lesson plan was almost complete. Before leaving, he asked Chen Jinchun to book 50 more lessons online.  

Although Lu Liang had scored 99 on a recent test, the maximum score was 710, far beyond his current level.  

Improving his English remained the main goal. The budding friendship with Su Wanyu was secondary. Her slow and reserved nature meant their relationship remained casual despite weeks of lessons.  

At 2 p.m., under a sunny, clear sky, Lu Liang joined Meng for the trip. While Meng had a full set of gear, Lu Liang arrived empty-handed, carrying only himself.  

Stopping at a fishing shop, he spent over 100,000 yuan on premium equipment. “I’m not buying the best—just the most expensive,” he quipped.  

Despite his initial suspicion that fishing was a cover for a yacht party with beautiful women, the trip turned out to be genuine.  

Meng’s two-and-a-half-story yacht had only one woman onboard: a cook.  

According to Meng, bringing women along usually resulted in seasickness and unnecessary complaints. Today was a serious fishing trip.  

By 3 p.m., they set sail, reaching the first fishing spot after 90 minutes.  

Starting with sardines and yellow croakers for bait, they later moved to deeper waters for larger fish like tuna. The thrill of battling a 50-pound tuna, which exerted over 100 pounds of force, proved a surprisingly intense workout.  

By late night, they reached a habitat for ribbonfish, whose gleaming, stainless-steel-like bodies were quickly gutted and pan-fried onboard for a deliciously fresh meal.  

What began as a reluctant outing turned into a newfound passion. Like tennis, deep-sea fishing became Lu Liang’s latest hobby.  

By early morning, they returned to Magic City and headed to the Sheshan Clubhouse for a sauna and massage to unwind.  

Over the next three trading days, TeLi A fell below 8 yuan.  

Li Jianlin and Wu Junle finally believed Lu Liang had been flushed out.  

By late June, they launched their plan, using 24 trading accounts to amass shares. Over seven days, their purchases accounted for half of the total trading volume, absorbing every share retail investors sold.  

By July 5, their combined holdings reached 9.5% of the floating shares, just below the regulatory threshold for disclosure.  

Now effectively controlling the stock’s price, they used their accounts to create the illusion of high trading activity.  

From July 5 to July 12, the stock traded an average of 500 million yuan daily. Prices climbed steadily, with gains of 7-8% each day—just shy of hitting the limit-up, attracting hordes of retail investors and further driving the rally.  

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