After Divorce, I Can Hear the Future

Chapter 10: Fully stocked again

Ding-dong—

The doorbell rang suddenly.

“Who’s there?” Zhang Qian pulled on her bathrobe, adjusting the fishnet stockings to cover the tears from their “battle.”

“Room service,” Lu Liang chuckled, gently moving her legs aside as he went to open the door.

It was the late-night snack he’d ordered. After drinking and then another round of exertion, he was feeling hungry.

The server was discreet, keeping his gaze lowered as he wheeled the cart in without glancing around.

A steaming pot of seafood congee along with a few delicate side dishes filled the table.

“Please enjoy, Mr. Lu.”

After the server left, Zhang Qian sauntered over, her every movement oozing allure. Sitting down, she ladled a small bowl of congee, blew on it gently, and teased, “Open up, big brother, let me feed you.”

‘The market’s looking good; it’s worth buying.’

That wasn’t enough for her; she wanted more details, like at what price to buy and when to sell.

But she’d overestimated herself and underestimated Lu Liang. Though he was willing to give her a hint to maintain this relationship, he wasn’t going to reveal all.

By the time Zhang Qian was “devoured” again, she still hadn’t gotten anything more useful out of him.

As the night wore on and their final encounter ended, their bathrobes lay rumpled on the carpet, and her torn fishnet stockings bore witness to the intensity of the evening.

“You bad man... how long has it been since your wife last had you?” Zhang Qian, still flushed, strands of hair stuck to her cheeks, sighed with lingering warmth.

Last year, she’d spent over two weeks house-hunting, viewing more than a dozen places before finally finding her dream spot. During that time, she’d had coffee and casual conversations with Lu Liang, and she knew he was married.

But his performance tonight was overwhelming; he had stamina to rival a man half his age.

“We divorced ages ago,” Lu Liang said, lighting a post-event cigarette.

“Really?” Zhang Qian seemed to remember something and muttered resentfully, “Men are all the same.”

Her assumption was typical—having money leads to divorce, not the other way around.

“What nonsense are you thinking?”

Lu Liang put out his cigarette, slipped back under the covers, and wrapped his arms around her, their skin pressed close, warmth shared.

He took her hand, playing with her manicured nails, and sighed, “I was the one who got dumped.”

Now, as he said it, the initial sting was gone; in fact, divorce had been a relief.

“No way,” Zhang Qian replied, doubtful.

Lu Liang had money, decent looks, a great personality, and now he’d proven his... energy. By her standards, he had everything needed for happiness. How could he end up divorced?

“Long story short.”

“Does that mean there’s a kid?”

“It’s just a metaphor.”

“It’s a long night, so tell me all about it.”

But as she spoke, she noticed he was already asleep, his eyes closed as though dozing off.

“If you don’t want to say it, then don’t,” she muttered, shifting her position slightly. Soon enough, she drifted off as well.

A slight smile on his face, Lu Liang cracked open his eyes and placed a hand on her soft shoulder before closing them again.

…

At 9:00 a.m., the alarm blared through the room.

Lu Liang rubbed his eyes, and the spot beside him was already empty. Only a few red strands of hair lingered on the white pillow.

From the bathroom, he could hear the faint sound of running water.

Zhang Qian stepped out, now in her casual clothes, her yoga pants showing off her perfectly curved hips.

It was clear she worked out; no other way her figure could be that tight and perky. He’d experienced the benefits himself last night.

He looked at her. “Leaving already?”

“There’s a yoga class I’ll be late for if I don’t go now.” She came over, kissed him lightly, and said, “Bye-bye.”

“Bye-bye.” Lu Liang didn’t ask her to stay, knowing she’d come back and likely even more eagerly.

Ten minutes later, another alarm went off.

He switched off the remaining alarms he’d set last night to prevent oversleeping.

Today was Friday, the last trading day of the week, and he wanted to buy into Chinese Online as soon as possible.

“This week’s trading behavior has been strange,” he thought.

Lu Liang slipped into his bathrobe, a cigarette dangling from his lips as he watched the stock trends.

Chinese Online’s trading pattern suggested a large player was quietly accumulating shares at low prices, preparing for a surge.

Not wanting to miss the opportunity, he started placing small, staggered buy orders the moment the market opened.

The opening price was 17.93 yuan, with an increase of 0.89%. A single lot (100 shares) was valued at 1,793 yuan.

At first, he cautiously bought just a few lots, afraid that the big players would notice a “mouse stealing oil.”

He soon realized that his concern was unwarranted. Chinese Online’s market cap was 12 billion yuan, with a 2.42 billion float. His holding of over 10 million yuan wasn’t insignificant, but at best, it was just a mid-sized player. ṘＡ₦ỒβÊṡ

The big players had set resistance at 18.00 yuan to give the impression of a ceiling, keeping others from pushing the price higher. Meanwhile, he set a buy line at 17.90 yuan; each time the stock failed to break through resistance, he scooped up shares.

Having read plenty of books recently, Lu Liang was beginning to understand retail investor psychology: every failed push led some to lose hope, selling off, thinking there was no way the price would break higher.

Acting as a ready buyer, he could accumulate shares without inflating the price, effectively scooping up their holdings at a reasonable rate.

However, with only 10 million yuan at his disposal, he couldn’t be a true stabilizer in a hundred-billion-yuan market.

At 9:45 a.m., thirty minutes after the opening, was one of the day’s most active trading windows.

Chinese Online failed to break past 18 yuan for the second time.

Losing confidence, many retail investors began selling off, eager to ride the current market’s upward trend instead.

Over the past four trading days, the main index had climbed 395 points, reaching 4,700 with a staggering 8.75% gain, adding 750 billion to the main board’s market cap.

In contrast, Chinese Online had only risen by 5.52% over the same period, and on two of those days, it had closed lower.

The stock had underperformed the main index, frustrating its holders and prompting them to sell off rather than endure further stagnation.

“The market is so strong right now; why am I holding onto this garbage stock?”

“Even if it can’t match Baofeng Technology’s gains, it should at least keep up with Meiyan Holdings!”

“I thought there was hope in you, but I guess not. Goodbye, and good riddance…”

A chorus of angry retail investors sold off.

Within moments, Lu Liang’s brokerage account was flooded with confirmations as his orders filled. In mere seconds, his millions of yuan were spent, leaving him with 588,800 shares and just 480.4 yuan in cash—a 99.9% position.

Once again, Lu Liang was all in.

Meanwhile, Zhang Qian, taking a cab home, was also tracking the stock.

As a longtime Shanghai Drifter, she’d set up her brokerage account years ago and even opened access to the Hong Kong stock exchange.

However, being cautious, she usually invested only in funds. Recently, with the market rallying, she’d made a tidy profit of over 80,000 yuan.

“Is this stock really reliable? Why is it in the red while everything else is in the green?”

Staring at Chinese Online, Zhang Qian was puzzled.

Just moments ago, the 17.9 yuan level lost support, causing a sharp price drop.

Today’s market rose by another 1.2%, with a thousand stocks surging and only 65 in the red, including Chinese Online.

The stock was down by 2.2%, sitting at 17.46 yuan, and the stock forums were full of outraged complaints.

“I’ll trust you this time. But if I lose money, next time, I’ll make you book a big suite and open five bottles of Ace of Spades to make up for it.”

After hesitating, Zhang Qian finally decided to trust her so-called “insider tip.” It would feel like a waste after last night if she didn’t follow through.

She withdrew 580,000 yuan from her fund, using the 80,000 profit to buy into Chinese Online, acquiring 4,500 shares.

Being cautious, she didn’t want all her eggs in one basket; if both the stock and her fund lost money, she’d be heartbroken.