Entertainment: A song that brought his deceased wife back to life.

Manhattan.

Deepsea Capital North American Headquarters.

On Marcus's trading terminal, Penguin Music's stock price chart was soaring upwards at an utterly irrational angle.

Just two minutes ago, the stock price was in freefall, but now it's like someone has grabbed it by the back of the neck and is forcibly pulling it back.

The drop was 20 percent.

Fifteen percent.

Marcus's trader was practically screaming into the walkie-talkie: "The buying pressure is from unknown sources! Huge amounts of money are pouring into three dark pools simultaneously! The order book is moving faster than we can dump our shares! We can't possibly handle it all! We simply can't handle it all!"

Marcus sprang up from the leather chair as if he had a spring in his backside.

"Add more! Keep dumping short positions! I don't believe he can withstand 5 billion!"

The trader cried out in a tearful voice, "Mr. Marcus, all the short positions are exhausted! The five billion limit is completely depleted! They're still buying! Still buying!"

The decline was 10%.

Five percent.

Marcus's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets as he stared intently at the green candlestick, which had been plunging from the bottom of the cliff all the way back to the flat line.

And then—it became famous.

The increase was two percent.

Five percent.

Eight percent.

This is not a technical rebound at all.

This is like a god taking an astronomical amount of cash and swallowing his five billion US dollar short position whole!

He didn't even burp!

Marcus's hands trembled as if he had Parkinson's disease as he shakily clicked on Dark Pool's transaction details.

The three buyer accounts, of unknown origin, were opened in the Cayman Islands, Singapore, and Luxembourg, respectively.

The equity structure is nested layer by layer, and even after penetrating to the seventh layer, it is still an empty shell.

But the transaction amount is clearly written in black and white—in just three minutes, the cumulative purchase amount has exceeded six billion US dollars!

Six billion!

Who the hell is out of their mind to throw six billion US dollars in cash at a Chinese stock listed in the US?!

"Find the buyer! I need to know who's behind this!"

Marcus roared at the top of his lungs, spittle flying everywhere.

The assistant frantically typed on the keyboard, then suddenly looked up three minutes later.

His face was even paler than the newly painted white walls of the office.

"We've found out... The actual controller of the seventh shell company points to—the Luo Group."

Marcus felt a deafening buzz in his head, as if he had been struck by lightning.

Rockwell Group.

One of the top five largest conglomerates in Asia.

The leader of the sect, Luo Tianxiong, is known in the underworld as the "Old Fox of Beijing".

The cash flow that this old monster has at his disposal is more than three times the annual revenue of Deepsea Capital's North American branch!

"This is impossible... Luo Tianxiong has absolutely no connection with Tencent Music, what's gotten into him?"

Marcus's voice was completely drained.

The assistant, trembling, pulled out a due diligence report from two years ago: "Luo Qianyu, the only daughter of the Luo Group, is currently signed with Tencent Music, and she and Xu Qing are..."

He swallowed hard, not daring to continue.

Marcus's vision blurred, and he completed the sentence for him: "She's Xu Qing's girlfriend."

There was a deathly silence in the office for a full three seconds.

The next second, Marcus, like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, pounced on the trading terminal and screamed hysterically, "Close all positions! Close all short positions! Now!"

late.

The current market situation means he can no longer leave whenever he wants.

Luo Tianxiong's massive funds absorbed all the circulating shares on the market, leaving the entire sell order as thin as a sheet of paper.

Marcus wanted to close his short position, so he had to buy back the stock on the market—but damn well, he couldn't buy any!

There were no sellers at all; not a single item was listed.

All the buy orders were blocked by Luo Tianxiong's men.

This is the most classic short squeeze trap.

Close the door and beat the dog!

You figured it out?

Sorry, the doors are welded shut. Nobody's getting off today!

The increase was 15%.

Twenty percent.

For every percentage point that Marcus's short position jumped, his unrealized losses ballooned to an astronomical, staggering figure.

Margin calls poured out like a burst dam, and the risk control calls from major Wall Street investment banks came in simultaneously, like death knells.

"Mr. Marcus, your margin has fallen below the minimum support level. We will be forcibly liquidating your positions in thirty seconds—"

"No! Give me five more minutes! Just five minutes!"

Nobody listens to his nonsense anymore.

The increase was 30%.

The first investment bank's forced liquidation order popped up mercilessly, and the system automatically covered the short positions at the market price.

This forced liquidation order hit a market where there were practically no sellers—the stock price immediately surged another five percent!

A deadly chain reaction has begun.

A second investment bank followed suit with forced liquidation.

The third one.

The fourth one.

Every forced liquidation adds fuel to the fire of stock price increases, and every price surge precisely triggers the forced liquidation line for even more positions.

A spiral-like ascent to heaven, followed by a series of massive margin calls!

The most brutal death loop in the history of short selling on Wall Street is unfolding before Marcus's eyes.

The increase was 50%.

Seventy percent.

100%!

Marcus slumped in the boss's chair like a lump of mud.

He could only watch helplessly as his proud five billion US dollar short position was ground into powder by Luo Tianxiong's capital meat grinder in just thirty minutes.

Deepsea Capital suffered a paper loss of US$4.3 billion that day.

This amount is enough to buy half of Hollywood.

……

A large, single-level apartment outside the Fourth Ring Road in Beijing.

Luo Tianxiong sat imposingly on the rosewood armchair, the finest Da Hong Pao tea in front of him already soaking in the water for the third time.

The housekeeper, Old Zhou, pushed open the door and came in, his voice trembling with excitement.

"Brother Luo, Tencent Music's stock price has recovered all its losses, currently surging by 103%! Deep Sea Capital's short positions have been forcibly liquidated by major securities firms, resulting in a complete wipeout and utter ruin!"

Luo Tianxiong put down his teacup without even lifting his eyelids, and simply gave a faint "hmm".

The tone of that "hmm" was exactly the same as when he usually complained that Xu Qing's cooking was too salty.

Old Zhou thought to himself, "Wow!"

The expression on Luo Ye's face when he spent 10 billion US dollars to crush the Wall Street giants was exactly the same as the expression on his face when he complained that there was too much salt in the braised pork!

This is probably the mindset of a top-tier leader.

Or rather, it's the composure unique to a father-in-law who's fiercely protective of his son.

Luo Tianxiong picked up his small wine cup, took a sip of Moutai, and suddenly asked, "Does that kid Xu Qing know that I was the one who did it?"

Old Zhou thought for a moment: "With Mr. Xu's intelligence, he must have guessed it."

Luo Tianxiong snorted and slammed his wine glass down on the table.

"Remember, keep the same story to the outside world—the Luo Group is optimistic about the long-term commercial value of Penguin Music and is making a normal financial investment. It has nothing to do with Xu Qing, and even less to do with my daughter."

"clear."

Luo Tianxiong stood up, put his hands behind his back, walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, and looked down at the bustling traffic of Beijing.

"in addition."

He paused for a moment, a barely perceptible smile curving his lips.

"Have the kitchen prepare extra good food this weekend. When that kid comes, tell him to go make some braised pork first."

"If he dares to make it too salty again this time, he'll be kneeling on a washboard!"

Old Zhou suppressed a laugh and respectfully withdrew.