Chapter 11: 010 Lotus

“You’re going to the Comprehensive Office?” Xia He said, surprised. “That office has a lot of miscellaneous tasks.”

“Then give me fewer assignments,” Fang Qingye said half-jokingly, half-seriously.

“The Credit Department does have authority and prospects, but I’m not interested. Besides, the greater the power, the greater the responsibility. I’m not strong-willed—if someone pulls me down, it’ll be a net loss.”

Xia He couldn’t help laughing. “Not strong-willed? Afraid of the beauty trap?!”

Fang Qingye glanced at her and said nothing.

Xia He stopped joking and turned serious. “Alright then, as you wish. Start in the Comprehensive Office. If it doesn’t suit you, we’ll transfer you later—I’m planning to cultivate you properly. I never noticed it before, but you’re actually a talent!”

No, don’t talk about cultivating me.

Can’t I just have a relaxed, easy day?

I can’t say that out loud now.

In his previous life, after his internship ended, Fang Qingye had also been assigned to the Comprehensive Office—and he’d been unhappy then.

I graduated from a 211 university with a finance degree—why wasn’t I placed in the Credit Department?

Now I think about it, the Comprehensive Office is actually great—easy to slack off, and you can access the foreign internet; you can monitor the market during work hours.

They dropped work talk and chatted about college anecdotes over dinner. After eating, Fang Qingye sat for a while, then took his leave; Xia He naturally didn’t try to stop him.

Just before leaving, Xia He suddenly said, “Xiao Fang, let’s add each other on QQ. If calling isn’t convenient, you can leave me a message.”

“Sure.” Fang Qingye pulled out his phone and added her on QQ.

“East Sea Blade Master? Your QQ name’s pretty badass,” Xia He laughed.

“Your QQ name’s unique too—Lotus’s Thoughts,” Fang Qingye replied.

“Hey, I’m warning you ahead of time—I don’t have any hidden feelings. It’s just a QQ name. Some people who add me keep asking, it’s annoying!” Xia He said.

“I know. Your name comes from a poem by Xi Murong called ‘Lotus’s Thoughts’—the first line even has your name in it,” Fang Qingye cleared his throat and recited:

“I am a blooming summer lotus...”

“Go on, keep reciting,” Xia He urged when he stopped.

“Sorry, I only remember the first line... Goodbye, senior,” Fang Qingye said, then stepped out the door.

“Goodbye...”

Xia He smiled faintly and closed the door.

Fang Qingye got home before eight. As he opened the door, he saw his mother, Zhang Meili, still sitting in the living room, cracking sunflower seeds while watching TV.

“Finished eating?” Zhang Meili asked.

“Mm.” Fang Qingye changed his shoes and replied.

“Didn’t Director Xia keep you longer?” Zhang Meili turned to look at him.

“How could he? I’m not that close to him. Besides, Director Xia lives alone in the county town—if I stayed too long, people would gossip.”

“Good, you understand,” Zhang Meili went back to cracking seeds and watching TV.

Fang Qingye fell silent.

His mother had this habit—he didn’t bother arguing. He went to his bedroom, brewed himself a cup of tea.

In his previous life, in Shanghai, he’d started drinking coffee, but as he aged, he grew interested in tea, later planning to spend his middle age sipping goji berries from a thermos—until he was reborn into youth.

His tea habit remained unchanged; whether at work or home, he always drank good tea.

The Jinghai region where Nanxin was located also produced tea—Rugao white tea, Haimen green tea, Nanxin Maojian, Junshan tea—all less famous than Biluochun or Longjing, but no worse in quality.

More importantly, Fang Qingye didn’t have to buy it himself—his father’s study was full of high-quality teas gifted by visitors. Today he was drinking the local top-grade Junshan tea—“Langshan Spring Dawn”—authentic pre-Qingming tea.

After brewing a cup of Junshan tea, Fang Qingye slowly turned on his computer to do what he really wanted—trading stocks.

Yesterday, the 200,000 yuan borrowed from Song Dahai had arrived; tonight he could enter the stock market.

In 2008, global stock markets were all in bad shape—from the U.S. Dow Jones to Frankfurt’s DAX to Hong Kong’s Hang Seng Index—all grim news. Domestic A-shares were even worse.

After the frenzy of 2007, the A-share market finally cracked in November 2007 and began a high-level decline; then the 2008 subprime crisis erupted, triggering a global financial tsunami. The global economic environment plummeted, and A-shares dropped straight from the tenth floor to the ground floor. From November 2007 to October 2008, in just one year, the index fell from 6,124 points to 1,664 points—a 72.8% plunge, almost free-fall.

Now it was April—the market hadn’t hit bottom yet.

But even in the worst bear market, opportunities exist. In 2008, the most outstanding sector was agriculture, especially the leading stock—Longping High-Tech—which was named one of the top ten “monster stocks” of the year.

Fang Qingye was targeting this stock.

It was called a “monster stock” for good reason—it had two sensational triggers. First, the state had reviewed and preliminarily approved a major science and technology project on genetically modified crop varieties, sparking investor interest in listed companies involved in GMOs, and Longping High-Tech was one of them.

The second was a massive dividend payout.

The company was about to announce: cash dividends and capital reserve conversion—every 10 shares would receive 1 bonus share, a cash dividend of 1 yuan, and an additional 5 shares converted from capital reserve—equivalent to 6 shares delivered per 10 shares held.

Fang Qingye remembered clearly: back then, he’d just entered the stock market and had passionately argued in a stock group. Someone had mentioned Longping High-Tech’s massive payout, predicting a surge.

He’d scoffed at the time—how could a company with such mediocre performance be so generous? Must be rumors!

After all, rumors flew everywhere in the market.

But soon after, the company actually announced the payout—and the state released its new GMO policy. By then, the stock price had skyrocketed; there was no way to catch up.

But now, none of this had happened yet.

Fang Qingye opened Tonghuashun, pulled up Longping High-Tech’s K-line chart, and studied it carefully.

Two months ago, the price had surged from 15.5 yuan to a high of 24.38 yuan, then plunged rapidly. Last week’s low was 13.11 yuan—in just one month, all prior gains were erased, and the price broke below the previous support level, forming the dreaded breakout pattern that investors hate most.

A breakout like this is a clear sell signal!

Add to that four long red candles on the weekly chart—it looked terrifying.

Back then, Fang Qingye had seen this and made the wrong call—he thought the big players were dumping, and fled immediately.

In fact, it was the opposite—the big players were using this brutal method to wash out floating shares and lower their cost of lifting the price.

Back then, I was too green.

In the A-share market, 99% of retail investors are greenhorns—just Jiucai to be harvested.

This time, Fang Qingye didn’t overthink it. Seeing yesterday’s closing price at 14.38 yuan, he simply bought at 14.38 yuan, investing his entire 200,000 yuan principal—buying 139 lots.

He left the order hanging. The price would likely drop further tomorrow, and the system would auto-buy then.

After finishing, Fang Qingye exited Tonghuashun, thought for a moment, then logged into QQ.

Back then, WeChat didn’t exist; QQ was buzzing with activity—lots of friends, even more groups. Fang Qingye had joined over a dozen stock groups alone. Opening QQ, little penguins flashed nonstop, dinging incessantly.

But in this life, he Lande opening them. He’d muted all sounds and group notifications, always logged in invisible, just glancing for useful info.

Today, for some reason, he accidentally clicked “visible.” As he prepared to browse his university and high school class groups for important messages, he suddenly noticed his status had switched back to invisible—but a window popped up.

Friend “Universe Invincible Youthful Beauty” requested a video call!

The QQ avatar was a two-dimensional image of a sailor uniform girl—clearly Chiaki from the manga “My Landlady’s Adolescence!”—adorably kawaii.

Fang Qingye froze, remembered something, and decisively clicked “X” to reject.