Becoming the King of Bottom Fishing After Going All-In on A-Shares

Chapter 105 Earning 3.53 Million a Day

Goldman Sachs Asia Headquarters, Central, Hong Kong.

Wei Zhexuan sat in his office, with the intraday chart of Hong Kong stocks on the screen in front of him.

The bullish candlestick that stretched from 11000 points to 12596 points was like a knife, lying across his retina.

He didn't move; he had been watching for almost ten minutes.

Cheng Jiajun stood at the door, clutching a printed copy of the transaction record in his hand, too afraid to come in.

He had known Wei Zhexuan for eight years and had never seen him like this before.

It wasn't anger, nor frustration; it was an indescribable expression.

It's like looking at a painting, or like looking at an unsolvable puzzle.

"Come in," Wei Zhexuan said.

Cheng Jiajun walked in and placed the transaction records on the table.

"Boss, here's today's summary."

Zhizhou Capital bought a total of HK$20 billion today, with double leverage.

Key targets: China National Building Material, China Construction Bank, Industrial and Commercial Bank of China, Bank of China, China Shenhua Energy, and Anhui Conch Cement.

He paused, then lowered his voice: "All our orders have been accepted."

Wei Zhexuan remained silent.

Cheng Jiajun continued, "Morgan Stanley also shipped out a lot of goods today, and they were accepted."

Citibank, UBS, and HSBC are all the same.

The market saw a surge in speculative buying today, with retail and institutional investors combined bringing in at least tens of billions of yuan.

He paused for a moment: "Boss, today's rebound wasn't caused by him alone."

He is the match, and the market is the dry firewood.

He set it on fire, and the whole market caught fire.

Wei Zhexuan leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling.

"Matches," he repeated the word, then laughed.

I'm not laughing at Cheng Jiajun, I'm laughing at myself.

"I said HK$10 billion wouldn't make much of a splash," he said softly. "But he turned the whole market upside down."

Cheng Jiajun didn't dare to respond.

Wei Zhexuan sat up straight, turned on his computer, and pulled up today's transaction details.

He stared at the string of numbers and remained silent for a long time.

Then he said, "He's not trading stocks, he's fighting a war."

Cheng Jiajun was stunned for a moment.

Wei Zhexuan pointed to the betting data of China National Building Materials on the screen: "Look here, 1.58, foreign capital poured in 1.8 million, and he took 1.8 million."

The stock price didn't move at all.

This is not a deal; this is a positional war.

He built a wall at 1.58 meters, using real money.

He paused, then his voice deepened: "How much foreign capital poured in, how much did he take in?"

It wasn't because he was rich, but because he knew that as long as he held onto his position, the market would trust him.

Once the market believes it, he's not fighting alone anymore.

He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.

"I've been trading for twenty years and I've never seen this kind of play before."

The office remained quiet for a long time.

Cheng Jiajun asked cautiously, "Boss, what do we do tomorrow?"

Wei Zhexuan opened his eyes and looked at the ceiling.

"Tomorrow," he said softly, "let's see what he does next."

He didn't say "continue to dump shares" or "stop shorting".

He said, "Let's see what he does next."

Cheng Jiajun understood.

From today onwards, Lu Chenzhou is no longer a "student who can be ignored"; he is a competitor in this market who cannot be ignored.

Cheng Jiajun turned to leave, but stopped at the door and turned back to ask, "Boss, how much did we lose today?"

Wei Zhexuan glanced at him.

"How much Goldman Sachs lost is not your concern."

"Yes."

Cheng Jiajun pushed open the door and went out.

In the corridor, he took out his phone, scrolled to Lu Chenzhou's QQ investment group, and glanced at it.

The group chat is still celebrating.

Some people posted screenshots of their holdings for the day, some were calculating how much they had earned, some were asking how to operate tomorrow, and some were shouting "Brother Lu is awesome!"

Cheng Jiajun stared at the line "Brother Lu is awesome" for a few seconds, then put his phone in his pocket and walked briskly into the elevator.

He invested HK$800 million in Zhizhou Capital, and should have made a considerable profit by now.

Tsinghua University BBS.

The post about Lu Chenzhou has been upvoted to eight million views.

The main post title has just been updated: Epic market conditions! Leverage guy makes a whopping 3.53 million in one day, Hong Kong stocks surge 14.35%!

The post provided a detailed analysis of today's market trends and Lu Chenzhou's trading decisions.

Hang Seng Index: 12596.20 points, +14.35%, marking the largest single-day gain since 1997.

Zhizhou Capital bought HK$20 billion worth of shares today.

Holdings: China National Building Material, China Construction Bank, Industrial and Commercial Bank of China, Bank of China, China Shenhua Energy, Anhui Conch Cement. Daily profit: HK$3.53 million, return: 17.67%.

The number of replies to the post was increasing every second: "14.35%? The market is up 14 points? Am I seeing things?"

"You read that right. Hong Kong stocks don't have daily price limits. A 14-point gain in a day is rare, but it's not unheard of. The key point is that he went all in at the lowest point and made 3.53 million in one day."

"I did the math, and his total assets should now exceed 3 million."

"3 million? For one student?"

"He's no longer a student; he's the founder of Zhizhou Capital and a licensed fund manager."

"Only a few days? From 1 to 3 million?"

"Not just a few days, but a month. From September 18th to today, it's exactly 40 days."

"40 days, 3 times. What did I do in those 40 days? I wrote my graduation thesis."

"Stop talking, the more you talk, the more useless you feel."

"Did you notice that he bought Chinese stocks today? Building materials, banks, cement, coal—all sectors that have been most heavily shorted by foreign investors?"

What does this mean?

"This shows that he's not buying randomly; he's buying up foreign capital at rock-bottom prices. Whatever foreign capital is dumping, he's buying. When foreign capital is selling off, he's taking over. This isn't going against foreign capital; it's taking over their assets."

"Holy crap, now that you mention it, I'm suddenly feeling a bit excited."

"A 20-year-old student, with 20 billion yuan in funds, went head-to-head with Goldman Sachs, Morgan Stanley, Citigroup, and UBS. This isn't just passion; it's legendary."

"I heard that the Hong Kong Securities and Futures Commission was alarmed today and issued a statement this afternoon saying that it would strictly investigate malicious short selling."

"That wasn't a statement; it was a warning to foreign investors, meaning: If you keep dumping, I'll take action."

"So, Lu Chenzhou knew about this in advance?"

"He didn't know in advance, he anticipated it. The news was already circulating this morning. Others didn't take it seriously, but he did. That's the difference."

"So when he acquired China National Building Materials at 1.58, wasn't he gambling, but gambling that regulators would intervene?"

"He was betting on the odds. He had calculated that there was a high probability that the regulators would intervene, so he dared to take the risk."

"That's the difference between top traders and retail investors. Retail investors look at candlestick charts, while he looks at probabilities."

"I watched his trading the whole day. When the market opened, China National Building Material's stock price plummeted from 1.74 to 1.58. He bought it up bit by bit, while foreign investors bought it up bit by bit, totaling 1.8 million yuan. The stock price didn't move an inch. Watching that kind of market movement on the screen, my hands were shaking. He sat there, motionless, like a stone."

"That's composure."

"It's not composure, it's confidence. He knows he's right, so he doesn't panic."

The comments section below the post was filled with arguments.

Some people admired it, some questioned it, some were envious, some analyzed it, some regretted it, and some were excited.

At 4:30 p.m., just half an hour after the Hong Kong stock market closed.

The news of the Hang Seng Index surging 14.35% was still being repeatedly broadcast on the rolling news of major financial channels, and the cheers in the trading hall had not yet subsided when Lu Chenzhou had already left with Wen Zhiyu.

Nobody knew where they were going.

But someone spotted the red taxi they got into, heading towards North Lantau Island and the airport.

The message was sent out from the trading floor.

It's unclear who discovered it first, or who posted the message first, but within ten minutes, the entire Central district knew about it.

Lu Chenzhou went to the airport.

Reporters rushed to the airport from all directions.

Some people took taxis directly from the trading hall, some rushed down from their offices to hail a taxi, and some ran while calling their colleagues to go and block the road.

Phoenix TV, Sina Finance, Hong Kong Economic Journal, 21st Century Business Herald, South China Morning Post... everyone who could come came.

They didn't know where Lu Chenzhou was going, but they knew that if they could photograph or interview him today, it would be headline news.

At 4:45, a red taxi stopped at the entrance of the departure hall.

The car door opened, and Lu Chenzhou got out first.

Black light jacket, white T-shirt, dark trousers.

He was carrying a backpack on one shoulder, holding his phone in his left hand, and resting his right hand on the car door.

His expression was exactly the same calm as when he walked into the trading floor this morning, as if nothing had happened.

Wen Zhiyu came down from the other side.

She was wearing a light brown coat, her hair was tied in a ponytail, and she was carrying a briefcase.

She had been gripping the handle of her briefcase all day, and fingerprints were still visible on the leather surface.

Her fingers were still slightly sore, but her steps were much steadyer than in the morning.

She closed the car door and walked to Lu Chenzhou's side.

"What time is your flight?" she asked.

"6:10."

"There's still over an hour left, we have enough time."

The two of them dragged their suitcases toward the departure hall.

They walked less than twenty steps.

"Lu Chenzhou!"

A shout came from behind.

It wasn't just one person, it was several people.

The voices overlapped, some male, some female, some in Mandarin, and some in Cantonese.

Wen Zhiyu paused for a moment, then subconsciously moved closer to Lu Chenzhou, her fingers unconsciously tightening around the handle of her briefcase.

Lu Chenzhou did not stop.

He neither sped up nor slowed down, just walked at a leisurely pace, as if he hadn't heard anyone calling him.

But those people wouldn't let him just leave.

Seven or eight people surged in from different directions, some carrying video cameras, some holding recorders, and some holding cameras, surrounding Lu Chenzhou and Wen Zhiyu in the open space at the entrance of the departure hall.

The flashbulbs went off one after another.

Wen Zhiyu narrowed her eyes and subconsciously hid behind Lu Chenzhou.

Lu Chenzhou stopped.

He took his backpack off his shoulder, placed it on his suitcase, and then turned around to face the group of reporters.

His expression remained unchanged.

"Mr. Lu, I am a reporter from Phoenix TV. You have earned 3.53 million yuan today. How are you feeling right now?"

'

The first question burst from the crowd, the voice sharp and urgent.

Lu Chenzhou glanced at the reporter.

"good."

Two words.

The reporter was taken aback.

She thought he would say "excited," "thrilled," "unbelievable," or at least laugh, but he didn't. He said "it's alright," as if he were saying the weather was alright, the airport air conditioning was alright, or the taxi ride was alright.

"Not bad?" the reporter pressed. "You earned HK$3.53 million in one day, and you think that's just 'not bad'?"

Lu Chenzhou remained silent for a second.

"Just numbers."

Four words.

It was said lightly, as if it were about a trivial matter.

There was a moment of silence.

The reporters exchanged bewildered glances, each trying to make sure they hadn't misheard.

3.53 million, just a number.

A male reporter squeezed in from the side, wearing a name tag that read "Hong Kong Economic Journal" around his neck.

"Mr. Lu, you bought 1.8 million yuan worth of China National Building Materials shares at 1.58 today, when foreign investors were frantically dumping them. Weren't you afraid?"

Lu Chenzhou looked at him.

"What are you afraid of?"

"I'm afraid the stock price will continue to fall, I'm afraid foreign investors will dump it even more heavily, and I'm afraid you won't be able to absorb it."

Lu Chenzhou remained silent for two seconds.

"I've calculated it, we can handle it."

The reporter pressed further, "How did you calculate that?"

"The amount of goods held by foreign investors is limited," Lu Chenzhou said calmly. "Once they've sold them, they're gone."

"How do you know they're almost done smashing it?"

Lu Chenzhou glanced at him.

"They spent 1.8 million at 1.58, but the stock price didn't move. At that point, the market knew they couldn't push it down any further."

Once the market realizes they can't drive the price down any further, others will step in to buy. Today, I wasn't the only one buying in.

The reporter opened his mouth, wanting to ask another question, but when he met those calm eyes, he swallowed his words.

A young female reporter pushed her way to the front, holding a recording pen in her hand.

"Mr. Lu, I am a reporter from Sina Finance. From September 18th to now, in 40 days, you have grown your account from 10,000 to more than 600 million in unrealized profits and fundraising. How did you do it?"