Chapter 222: One Sentence Determines the Life or Death of Hong Kong Island

In the conference hall on the tenth floor of the Far East Exchange, the atmosphere was so heavy that it left people a little breathless.

The conference hall, which can seat two hundred people, was packed today; in front of the flower‑adorned podium, dozens of video cameras and photo cameras were aimed at the microphone on stage.

Flashes rose and fell, bathing the whole venue in daylight. Each click of the shutter sounded like a countdown to the looming financial storm.

Through the floor‑to‑ceiling windows of the hall, one could see the bustling scene of Gangdao Zhonghuan. Victoria Harbour glittered, a few Star Ferries shuttled back and forth, their horns faintly audible. In the distance, the summit of Victoria Peak was shrouded in mist, and mansions on its slopes gleamed in the sun.

In the skyline‑filled financial district, suited office workers hurried about. A crowd gathered at the exchange entrance, some whispering, some leafing through newspapers, all discussing the same topic—the mysterious mainland investor Lu Qingshan.

The streets teemed with traffic—red taxis, green minibuses, blue buses—forming Hong Kong Island's distinctive transport scene. In a tea‑house by the road, diners sipped milk tea while fervently debating the market's movements.

"I heard Lu Qingshan is holding a press conference today; I wonder what he'll say."

"Yesterday he single‑handedly knocked the Hang Seng Index down by so many points; who knows what will happen if he says something today."

"My stocks lost a lot yesterday; I hope he says something favorable today."

A reporter from Hong Kong Island Radio was interviewing passersby on the street, seeking public opinion on the upcoming press conference. In the distance, the Bank of China Building shone in the sun, and HSBC's Lion statue still majestically guarded this financial hub.

A sea breeze brushed by, carrying a faint salty scent. A few seagulls circled over the harbor, their crisp calls adding a touch of life to this historic afternoon.

From time to time, someone in the crowd looked up toward the Far East Exchange, where everything about to unfold would decide the fortunes of countless people.

In the hall, financial reporter Zhang Wenhua of the South China Morning Post sat in the front row, gripping a recorder. His palms were already soaked, cold sweat seeping from his forehead.

He had been grinding his way through Hong Kong Island's financial circles for over a decade, having witnessed countless such press conferences, but today's atmosphere was unusually tense. The tension reminded him of the emergency briefing during the 1973 oil crisis.

"Old Zhang, what do you think Lu Qingshan will say today?" the reporter Li Ming of the Hong Kong Economic Journal asked softly, his voice trembling.

Zhang Wenhua shook his head, a hint of unease flashing in his eyes: "I don't know, but it certainly won't be ordinary remarks. Yesterday he knocked the Hang Seng Index down by more than 160 points in a single day; if he delivers a few more harsh words today, the entire Hong Kong Island stock market could face a Market Crash."

As soon as he finished speaking, several nearby reporters nodded in unison. Veteran reporter Wang Dawei of Ming Pao said directly: "I've covered financial news for twenty years and have never seen anyone wield such influence. One phone call, five hundred million Hong Kong dollars, and the whole market trembles."

Ms. Chen, a reporter for the Ta Kung Pao, couldn't help interjecting: "The key is that he's still so young; such a figure is terrifying."

In the back rows, representatives of the major Chinese capital families wore solemn expressions. Each looked pale, evidently the stock plunge yesterday had inflicted heavy losses.

Director Chen of Hengji Zhao Ye sat in his chair, his fingers drumming the desk, clearly extremely nervous. Fine beads of sweat dotted his forehead, and his suit tie felt as if it might choke him.

"Director Chen, do you think Lu Qingshan will keep bearish on the market?" a representative from Xin Hongji asked in a lowered voice, his tone laced with obvious concern.

"I don't know, but we must prepare for the worst," Director Chen's voice was hoarse. "If he keeps short‑selling today, our stock could tumble further. Yesterday we already lost over a billion, and another round would…"

He didn't finish his sentence, but everyone understood his meaning.

Deputy General Manager Li of Faction said outright: "Lu Qingshan is terrifying. One person can sway the whole market's sentiment. Yesterday our stock fell 12%, erasing tens of billions in market value."

"The key is how strong his capital really is—are five hundred million Hong Kong dollars just the tip of the iceberg?" a representative from Kowloon Warehouse also voiced.

In the central area of the venue, several representatives of the British Capital Group sat upright, their expressions even more solemn than those of the Chinese capital delegates. As traditional financial forces on Hong Kong Island, they were extremely uneasy about this sudden variable.

Mr. Smith of Taigu Group kept glancing at his watch, clearly worried about the press conference. His complexion was pale, and his eyes flickered with tension.

"Mr. Smith, our stock already fell a lot yesterday; if Lu Qingshan keeps short‑selling today…" a representative from Yihe Group whispered nearby, voice trembling.

Smith waved his hand: "Never mind, we can only wait and see. Lu Qingshan's influence is huge; now every investor on Hong Kong Island is listening to him."

He paused, a complex emotion flashing in his eyes: "What's even scarier is that he's Chinese. We all know what that implies."

The Standard Chartered representative Yuehan Xun said directly: "If he keeps short‑selling today, we must consider whether to follow suit. The current situation is that following him makes money, while opposing him could wipe us out."

The HSBC representative Wilson nodded in agreement: "Indeed, he made two hundred million in a single day yesterday; that rate of return is simply unbelievable."

The most eye‑catching spots were the two seats on the left side of the venue.

Secretary‑General Williams of the Imperial Governor's Office and his assistant sat there, their presence making the atmosphere even tenser. Williams's expression was extremely solemn, his eyes flashing with deep light.

"Mr. Williams, what is the Governor's stance on this press conference?" the assistant asked softly.

Williams did not answer immediately, but stared intently at the spot on stage. After a few seconds, he slowly said: "The Governor is closely watching Lu Qingshan. A mainland investor who can stir such a storm in our financial market is itself cause for vigilance."

His voice was low, yet everyone around could hear: "If his words today trigger a Market Crash, we may need to take measures."

The assistant nodded, but a hint of worry flashed in his eyes: "The key is we don't know his background. Someone like that surely has powerful backing."

In other corners of the venue, representatives of various banks, securities firms, and fund companies were also seated. Their expressions were grave, clearly the market turbulence yesterday had placed unprecedented pressure on them.

"Our bank's trading volume surged 300% yesterday; everyone was dumping stocks," a bank representative whispered.

"Our fund lost 80 million in a single day yesterday; clients are frantically redeeming," a fund company representative also complained.

Ye Ning sat in the third row below the stage, her palms already sweating.

She stared at the empty podium above, her heart pounding. She had barely slept the night before, her mind filled with the boss's possible remarks.

What exactly will the boss say today?

Will it spark an even bigger upheaval?