Chapter 35: 034 Someone Jumped to Their Death

This year, the Nanxin Branch has been plagued by misfortune; three months ago, 20 million yuan in deposits from Tenglong Industry vanished without a trace, shaking the entire banking system.

Although this incident was ultimately proven unrelated to the bank, it triggered a series of drastic personnel changes. After a period of calm, another major event occurred this morning.

As usual, Fang Qingye rode his small scooter slowly to work, parked it in the bike shed, and was just about to head to the cafeteria for a meal when Wu Shengli called out to him: “Xiao Fang, skip eating—come with me.”

“Director Wu, is there an emergency?” Fang Qingye asked.

“Yes, hurry!”

Fang Qingye didn’t ask further and got into the unit’s Passat with Wu Shengli. Only after Old Zhang drove out the main gate and turned onto Changle Road did Fang Qingye speak up.

“Director Wu, what’s going on?”

“Sun Jiaming from the Zhonglou Savings Office jumped to his death from his building!”

Fuck!

Fang Qingye was startled and quickly asked, “When did it happen? What was the reason?”

“At dawn. A local old woman buying vegetables in the staff compound found him. The police have been notified, but the exact cause is unknown. Deputy Director Xia and Director Su have already rushed over from home, so we need to go quickly too.”

After hearing Wu Shengli’s words, Fang Qingye strained to recall the past—but he didn’t remember this incident.

Before his rebirth, he had already resigned and left Nanxin for Shencheng by this time, so he knew nothing of the circumstances.

Sun Jiaming lived in one of the branch’s old staff buildings, not far from the Zhonglou Savings Office. When they arrived by car, they saw several vehicles parked outside the compound gate, including Xia He’s white BMW.

After parking, Fang Qingye hurried inside with Wu Shengli. The compound was crowded with people, and an ambulance and police car were parked nearby; the police had already set up a cordon.

On the cement ground below the building lay a white sheet covering a body, surrounded by dried blood. A police officer in a white coat and mask circled the corpse, inspecting something—clearly performing the autopsy.

Outside the cordon, a middle-aged woman with curly hair screamed in grief beside the body, while two other women in bank uniforms desperately held her back.

Fang Qingye recognized them—they were staff from the Zhonglou Savings Office. The crying woman with curly hair was clearly Sun Jiaming’s wife.

Xia He had already arrived. She stood beside Su Ming just outside the cordon. When she saw Wu Shengli and Fang Qingye enter, she nodded slightly in greeting.

Fang Qingye noticed Xia He’s face was pale.

Of course—this kind of incident in the bank, regardless of the cause, was bad news for a branch director.

Wu Shengli stepped forward and spoke quietly with Xia He. Fang Qingye, standing nearby, could hear clearly: he was asking about the cause of death, but Xia He didn’t know much either.

“The police say foul play is unlikely—it was probably suicide.”

“So it was suicide? Why would he kill himself? I never heard of any major trouble in Sun Jiaming’s family, and their marriage seemed harmonious,” Wu Shengli said, frowning.

“I don’t know the exact reason,” Xia He shook her head, glancing unconsciously at Fang Qingye standing nearby—as if seeking an answer.

Don’t look at me…

Don’t treat me like Sherlock Holmes—I have no idea why he killed himself.

Fang Qingye mentally grumbled.

Soon, the police concluded their investigation and ruled out foul play after a thorough on-site examination.

Since it wasn’t homicide, the police wouldn’t open a case; a large group of officers quickly left, and the body was taken away by the hospital ambulance to the morgue, awaiting family arrangements.

Of course, as the deceased’s employer—the Dongxin Branch couldn’t escape responsibility.

Although this incident seemed unrelated to the bank, the reality of the situation meant that when an employee died, the unit bore the duty to assist with funeral arrangements—especially within the state system.

Fang Qingye did not participate in this matter.

Such comforting, fussing, even bureaucratic tasks were always handled by experienced female staff; it naturally fell outside the scope of a young man like him—his job was simply to show up and work.

Wu Shengli from the General Office, along with Liu Meili, represented the bank and helped Sun Jiaming’s family with funeral arrangements; they’d been busy with this for two days.

With leadership absent, everyone seized the chance to slack off. Fang Qingye naturally took the opportunity to goof off—besides completing the modeling task assigned by the Dongguan girl, he spent his time online checking the A-share market.

He couldn’t miss the Beijing Tourism stock he’d targeted; watching the K-line chart and various indicators, he estimated he should enter within the next two days.

At that moment, the office door suddenly swung open and Liu Meili burst in, looking excited—as if she had news to share. But then she spotted Fang Qingye’s computer screen near the door and gasped: “Xiao Fang, you’re also trading stocks?!”

“No, I was just browsing,” Fang Qingye quickly switched the screen.

“Xiao Fang, you absolutely must not get involved in this! Do you know why Sun Jiaming killed himself?” Liu Meili’s words caught Fang Qingye’s interest—and the other two people in the office turned to look at her.

“He lost big in the stock market! Couldn’t take it and jumped!”

Liu Meili’s words shocked everyone. Even Cao Ting, who rarely cared about gossip, stopped playing with her phone and looked up at her.

“Lost money in stocks and jumped? That’s extreme. The market’s been terrible this year—lots of people lost money, but I haven’t heard of anyone killing themselves over it.”

“Absolutely true!”

Liu Meili spoke with certainty: “Because we found a suicide note written by Sun Jiaming before he died!”

“What? A suicide note? Where did you find it?” Cao Ting asked curiously.

“In a trash bin. It looked like he wrote it and threw it away. It said he’d lost a lot of money in stocks and saw no hope in living anymore—better to jump. Something like that. Later, we had it examined by experts and confirmed it was his genuine handwriting.”

Hearing Liu Meili say this, Sun Jiaming’s suicide due to stock losses was now confirmed.

The people in the office began discussing it. Then Liu Meili turned to Fang Qingye again: “Xiao Fang, learn from his mistake—you absolutely must not trade stocks. People die from it!”

Seriously…

If eating can choke you, should you stop eating?

If going out can get you in a car accident, should you never leave the house?!

Fang Qingye was speechless.

But he knew Liu Meili meant well, so he didn’t argue—just nodded and repeated his earlier words: “I’m not trading stocks. I was just looking.”

Seeing Fang Qingye’s attitude, Liu Meili was quite satisfied.

Young people, so sensible—finally someone who listens.

The news that Sun Jiaming killed himself due to stock losses spread quickly through the unit; everyone assumed it was settled.

But Fang Qingye felt something was off.

He’d heard of people killing themselves after stock losses—but those were usually professional traders whose capital came from bank loans or high-interest private borrowing!

Every day meant more interest piling up.

But Sun Jiaming didn’t seem like that?

According to Liu Meili, he’d bought three stocks, all deeply underwater, with unrealized losses of about 900,000 yuan.

900,000 yuan was no small sum, but Sun Jiaming and his wife both worked, and they had only one daughter in junior high—their combined salaries easily covered daily expenses.

If he’d only lost personal savings, why not wait? The market would recover eventually. Why jump?

Unless the money he lost was borrowed!

But Fang Qingye kept these doubts to himself—he had no reason to tell others in the unit. Better to keep quiet. After all, the man was dead.

But that night, Xia He brought up the matter.