Chapter 10: 009 Painful but Joyful

Fang Qingye entered the door, changed his shoes, and heard Xia He say: “Xiao Fang, I’ll stir-fry one more dish—just sit anywhere and watch TV; if you get bored, go to my study, there’s internet access.”

Fang Qingye replied and looked around—the apartment wasn’t large, two bedrooms and two living areas, but arranged warmly.

After glancing at the living room, he noticed the study door was open and walked in; on the desk sat a laptop, but he had no intention of turning it on.

Against the wall stood a keyboard, unlike ordinary ones—more like a professional band keyboard—this piqued Fang Qingye’s curiosity.

Does Xia He even have this hobby?

No wonder her fingers are long—how good is she at playing?

As Fang Qingye thought this, his gaze shifted to the bookshelf.

The bookshelf was large, filled with many books—mostly finance and economics titles; Fang Qingye pulled one out.

“Options, Futures, and Other Derivatives.”

Fang Qingye flipped through it—the book was old, filled with Xia He’s elegant handwritten notes, clearly studied carefully.

It was written by the professor from the Bonharm Financial Center at the University of Toronto, internationally recognized as an authority on derivatives.

The book primarily explains futures market mechanisms, hedging strategies using futures, forward and futures pricing, options market operations, stock option characteristics, options trading strategies, credit derivatives, the Black-Scholes model, Greeks and their applications, climate and energy derivatives, and insurance derivatives.

Fang Qingye had also read this book carefully—but only after joining the investment bank. Back then, he found it profoundly deep, revered its theories as absolute truth, even calling them gospel; only after years in the industry did he realize it was just that.

At that moment, Xia He brought out a dish and saw Fang Qingye standing by the bookshelf flipping through it; she smiled: “Xiao Fang, you’re interested in this book too?”

“Hehe, just browsing.” Fang Qingye replied.

“This was my graduate textbook—I loved it. Many of its ideas were fresh and insightful, truly inspiring.”

“You mean the Black-Scholes model?” Fang Qingye smiled.

This model calculates theoretical prices for call and put options based on the assumption of a random walk in stock prices—it’s certainly convenient. But it was developed by Western financial scholars and is best suited for mature Western markets; when applied to our domestic market, it yields significant deviations, as our trading mechanisms, liquidity, and volatility differ greatly from those of international mature markets—like oranges turning into citrons when transplanted south.

Fang Qingye wasn’t speaking nonsense—he’d suffered painful lessons himself. Back when he worked at the investment bank, he’d blindly trusted this Western theory and lost heavily because of it.

Xia He listened, astonished.

“Xiao Fang, I didn’t know you understood so much? Undergrad doesn’t teach this, does it?”

“Hehe, I read it in my spare time.”

“Xiao Fang, you must’ve been diligent in college—a good student. But when I reviewed your application, your GPA was surprisingly low?”

This…

Fang Qingye’s face flushed; he dodged: “Director Xia, I wasn’t interested in what the professors taught.”

Xia He nodded.

“True—the undergrad curriculum, especially, is disconnected from reality. I only learned real things during grad school and after graduation… come, let’s eat.”

Fang Qingye agreed, returned the book to the shelf, washed his hands in the bathroom, then sat at the small dining table—several dishes already laid out, and Xia He had opened a bottle of Great Wall Cabernet.

Salted duck, Beauty’s Liver, Duck Blood Vermicelli Soup… these were all Jinling traditional dishes.

“Director Xia…” Fang Qingye began, but she interrupted: “Enough with ‘Director Xia’—we’re not at work now. Call me Senior Sister, or just my name.”

Fang Qingye had no choice but to ask: “Senior Sister, are you from Jinling?”

“Yes, born and raised in Jinling,” Xia He replied. “I’ve only been in Nanxin a short time—I can’t cook your local dishes, just these… make do.”

Fang Qingye picked up chopsticks, took a bite of chicken breast, tasted it: “Mm, delicious.”

“Hehe, my mom was a full-time housewife. She always told me: to keep a man’s heart, first you must keep his stomach.”

Xia He suddenly fell silent, realizing this remark was inappropriate now; she quickly poured wine into both their wineglasses and raised hers:

“Xiao Fang, I’ve long wanted to thank you in person for the Longteng deposit theft case, but work’s been overwhelming—I’ve delayed it until now. Sorry.”

“Senior Sister, you’re too polite—I should be congratulating you on your promotion to director.” Fang Qingye raised his glass and took a sip.

“Yes… finally made it, but the pressure’s huge,” Xia He sighed, then suddenly smiled: “Forget the formalities—I don’t want you thinking I’m being pretentious. If the pressure’s this big, why even fight for this position?”

“Painful, but joyful.” Fang Qingye smiled.

“Xiao Fang, you really know how to talk—exactly: painful but joyful,” Xia He giggled. “Alright, eat.”

As they ate and chatted, Xia He suddenly asked: “Xiao Fang, Zhao Wenjun invited you out to dinner not long ago—and the next day he quit. Can you tell me what he said to you?”

She fixed her beautiful eyes on Fang Qingye.

Fang Qingye didn’t hide it—he briefly recounted what happened that day at the small restaurant, including Zhao Wenjun’s bet to recite the dictionary, though he omitted the wager.

Xia He sighed: “I never thought Zhao Wenjun would tell you all that… honestly, his abilities aren’t bad, and his methods are ruthless—but his luck’s been terrible.”

“And I got just a bit more luck—thanks to you,” Xia He said, smiling at Fang Qingye: “Xiao Fang, how should I thank you?”

“Senior Sister, you just invited me to dinner—that’s thanks enough.”

“That’s too simple,” Xia He said. “Don’t you have any requests for your work? After your probation ends, which department do you want? Credit Department or Finance Department—pick one.”

These were the two most powerful and promising departments in the branch—many branch leaders were promoted from them.

And their deposit-raising targets were much smaller; at a large, well-capitalized bank like Dongfang Bank, these departments had almost no deposit-raising duties.

But Fang Qingye shook his head: “Put me in the General Office.”