After Divorce, I Can Hear the Future

“Set up the trading room by the windows, and get a few more air purifiers,” Lu Liang instructed as he made a round of the office. Though the renovation materials were of the highest quality, there was still a faint "new building" smell lingering in the air.

It was clear that this odor wouldn’t dissipate naturally for at least a week or two, but there simply wasn’t time to wait.

“The formaldehyde level is only 0.055mg per cubic meter, which is within acceptable limits for occupancy,” Tang Caidie said, holding a report from the inspection agency. The national safety standard allows a maximum concentration of 0.08mg.

While the office was technically fit for use, ventilation was still necessary to ensure better air quality.

“Make sure the meeting room is lightly furnished as well. A batch of investors is coming tomorrow to sign contracts,” Lu Liang said. With that, he left, as Wen Chao had just called to inform him that the interviewees invited yesterday had already arrived.

There were 27 or 28 candidates, all dressed sharply in suits and holding resumes. They stood in a line that stretched almost to the elevator.

The applicants included seasoned professionals from the financial industry as well as fresh graduates from top financial programs.

Lu Liang’s job posting was clear: he was hiring two experienced traders and four fresh graduates.

Selecting the four fresh graduates was relatively simple; Lu Liang only needed two hours to finalize the choices. After all, with no prior work experience, all he could rely on were their academic records and his first impressions during the interview.

The candidates came from prestigious schools like Tsinghua, Peking University, Fudan, Nanjing University, and Shanghai University of Finance and Economics. With such polished resumes, first impressions became a critical deciding factor.

Anyone who didn’t match his expectations at first glance was immediately eliminated. Ultimately, the four selected were all fair-skinned, well-groomed, and handsome young men, much to the delight of the company’s receptionists, clerks, and accountants, whose eyes lit up with admiration. They assumed Lu Liang had hired these candidates to add “eye candy” to their office.

Lu Liang merely smiled and didn’t bother to explain.

It’s only when you enter the workforce that you truly understand the importance of appearances. After all, if someone doesn’t have a reasonably attractive appearance, few would bother exploring whether their soul is interesting or not.

He glanced at Wen Chao and asked, “How many interviewees are left outside?”

“Eleven,” Wen Chao replied.

“How many are not fresh graduates?”

“Seven.”

“Have all seven come in,” Lu Liang instructed.

Instead of interviewing them one by one, he had all seven enter the meeting room at once and gave them a group task.

“From left to right, each of you will have two minutes for a self-introduction. You have ten minutes to prepare.”

Lu Liang didn’t need traders with dazzling achievements or experience managing billions in private equity funds. He only wanted experienced professionals who could execute his plans decisively and wouldn’t overcomplicate things with too many personal ideas.

The first two candidates, who boasted and exaggerated their past experiences, were immediately eliminated. Those who were too silent, like “stuffed gourds,” were also out.

The final three were ordinary candidates who simply read their resumes as-is, without embellishment. While unremarkable, they fit the bill.

Still, one more had to go.

After reviewing their profiles briefly, Lu Liang decisively eliminated a candidate born in 1978 who was now 37 years old.

It wasn’t because of his age—after all, one of the remaining candidates was born in 1977. Instead, Lu Liang removed him because he was born in the Year of the Horse, while Lu Liang himself was born in the Year of the Ox in 1985. According to traditional Chinese astrology, oxen and horses clash, trampling over each other.

Though Lu Liang wasn’t particularly superstitious, he needed a reason to narrow it down to two candidates, and this seemed as good as any.

By 3:00 p.m., the interviews were complete.

Lu Liang handed the resumes of the six selected candidates to Wen Chao. “Spend extra money and hire multiple third-party agencies to conduct background checks. I want the results as soon as possible.”

Wen Chao nodded and immediately set about contacting the agencies.

After issuing his instructions, Lu Liang left the office and called over his cousin, who had been sitting in a corner lost in thought. Together, they headed to the Guotai Securities branch, where Lu Liang planned to apply for ten additional trading accounts.

The market that day remained steady but showed a downward trend. It was a battlefield for the 4000-point offensive, the 3500-point defense, and the 3000-point safeguard.

Only the last seemed somewhat reliable. The 3000-point level was akin to the starting point for China’s A-shares market, and after half a year of fluctuations, it seemed they were returning to square one.

As the main market fell, speculative stocks flourished briefly, but most were mere flashes in the pan, leaving nothing but chaos in their wake.

The only standout was Teli A, which shone as the brightest star. Since last Monday, when Lu Liang sold off his shares, the Wenzhou Gang had taken over.

It had become a grand stage for revelry, with the motto: “If you have dreams, this is the place.”

Various speculative funds and institutions took turns entering and exiting the stage. The stock’s daily fluctuations were no less than 10%.

For example, the morning session might see a 7% increase, only to drop 3% in the afternoon—or vice versa.

It was almost routine.

Retail investors experienced a mix of pain and joy. As institutional funds entered and exited, they always left behind some scraps for the smaller players to pick up.

Some joked, “The A-shares index rose to 5000, but I didn’t earn much. Yet during the stock market crash, I made quite a bit.”

The statement resonated with many retail investors.

It also gave rise to numerous memes, like “The ‘A’ in Teli A stands for A-shares” and “If you want to truly enjoy trading stocks, you have to trade Teli A.”

Teli A’s reputation had gone beyond the stock market, attracting attention from outsiders. Its surging popularity drove up its stock price, which climbed steadily despite the rollercoaster fluctuations.

By the end of the day, Teli A had successfully stabilized at 45 yuan.

Lu Liang couldn’t help but marvel, “Is this what the market will look like in the future?”

Due to a crackdown by the securities regulator, Li and Wu were investigated, with their 480 million yuan profits confiscated and fines totaling 720 million yuan.

The harsh penalties, still fresh in memory, deterred anyone from daring to stir up trouble in Teli A. As a result, the stock became one of the market’s rare “clean zones.”

Retail investors, with their modest expectations, simply wanted a relatively fair trading environment.

Thus, they flocked to Teli A en masse, never suspecting that the fairness they hoped for might be an illusion orchestrated for them to see.

Otherwise, why would so many speculative funds and institutions swarm to this stock, each trying to grab a share of the pie?

After all, this market was a place where big fish ate small fish, small fish ate shrimp, and anglers waited on the shore.

Lu Liang decided that once he became successful, he’d write a book titled The Life of an A-shares Retail Investor: Walking on Thin Ice.

Not long after, Zhao Haisheng had the trading accounts processed. At some point, the badge on his chest had been updated to “Deputy Director.”

Lu Liang was surprised and smiled as he said, “Haisheng, when did you get promoted?”

“Thanks to you, Mr. Lu, I was reassigned last week,” Zhao Haisheng replied with a wide grin, clearly not just offering flattery.

In the world of brokerage, performance speaks louder than anything else. Lu Liang’s frequent trading had generated a significant amount of transaction fees, all of which contributed to Zhao Haisheng’s performance metrics. This had earned him direct commendation from headquarters and paved the way for his promotion.

“How come I didn’t hear about this earlier? Shouldn’t you be treating us to a celebratory dinner?” Lu Liang joked.

“I wouldn’t dare, Mr. Lu! I just didn’t want to bother you with something so trivial,” Zhao Haisheng replied nervously. He quickly extended an invitation to treat Lu Liang to dinner that evening as a gesture of gratitude for the support he’d received in the past.

Zhao Haisheng hadn’t forgotten that without Lu Liang’s backing, he wouldn’t be where he was today. It was Lu Liang who had gone against the majority’s opinion to ensure Zhao could remain as his dedicated broker.

“Maybe next time. I’ve been really busy lately and can’t get away,” Lu Liang said with a smile, picking up his documents before leaving.

Although he currently didn’t need anything from Zhao Haisheng, opportunities might arise in the future. As long as Zhao remembered his roots, that was enough.

That evening, Lu Liang returned to the New International Building. With money smoothing the way, many tasks could be accomplished in a single day.

The entrance featured an enormous reception desk, with Tianxing Asset Management on the left and Tianxing Capital Investment on the right.

Soft, dark carpets now covered the entire office floor, and a partition had been set up between the two companies. Areas like the stock trading room, meeting room, offices, and break rooms had all taken shape.

Meanwhile, a steady stream of movers delivered various office equipment.

“Will everything be ready before dawn?” Lu Liang asked.

“It’ll be done by 4 a.m.,” Tang Caidie replied.

In Magic City, the one thing in abundance was hardworking people. With triple the hourly wage and three times the manpower, they worked at an astounding pace. If concrete didn’t require cooling time, one might even believe they could build Rome in a single night.

“You’ve worked hard,” Lu Liang said, noticing that Tang Caidie intended to stay there until everything was finished.

After all, she was overseeing the entire operation. She needed to ensure every piece of furniture was in its proper place and every detail was checked.

“I’ve been idle long enough; it’s time to get moving. I can’t just sit around and collect a salary forever,” she replied.

“How is it ‘just collecting a salary’? Hiring you for an annual salary of 400,000 feels like the best deal I’ve ever gotten,” Lu Liang teased.

“Mr. Lu, I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to give me a raise,” Tang joked back with a grin.

“How much of a raise are you thinking?” Lu Liang asked.

Tang Caidie smiled and shook her head. “Let’s hold off for now—at least until we’re profitable.”

Earlier that morning, Lu Liang had invested another 10 million yuan, bringing his total contributions to 50 million, with 50 million now fully paid in.

As of now, there hadn’t been a single penny of profit, and of the 50 million yuan invested, only a little over 9 million remained.

“After all, it’s venture capital—profit doesn’t come quickly. But it won’t be long now,” Lu Liang said with a smile. “The 2+20 model will bring in $2 million tomorrow.”

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