Chapter 26: The God Who Governs the Rise and Fall of the Stock Market

"What exactly is a stock..." Xia Kangning said, taking a bite of his noodle and garlic, while gently waving a folding fan with his other hand.

The front of the fan read: *Cherish High Aspirations*.
The back read: *Calm the Heart, Guard the Spirit*.

They had cost eight yuan for three. Old Xia and Old Zuo each had one, and young Xia had one too. Although the air conditioner in the living room was running, it was still stifling sitting at the computer desk in the main room eating hot soup noodles. Xia An was shirtless, and Xia Kangning had shed his shirt as well, wearing only a white tank top.

Xia Kangning spent half a bowl of noodles just explaining the definition of "stock," drawing on everything from ancient wisdom to current events. Old Xia had broad interests; he read the *Yellow Emperor's Inner Canon* for traditional Chinese medicine, consumed newspapers for current affairs, and enjoyed astronomy and geography. On the living room TV, a documentary channel was playing *The Vast Universe*...

Like many middle-aged men, a little knowledge made him prone to lecturing his family. Xia An listened with a grin, and when his father finished, he praised him: "It has to be you, Dad. So professional—I actually understood it."

Xia Kangning lectured his son on the virtue of accumulating knowledge and the idea that nothing could withstand persistent study. He concluded with, "This garlic is quite spicy; didn't you used to hate garlic?"

Xia An replied that he’d started eating it now that he was older.

"Mmh, grown up, that's good. Growing up is good."

Seeing the look of fatherly gratification on Xia Kangning’s face—the "my son has finally come of age" look—Xia An was terrified he would launch into a lecture on "how to be an adult." He immediately diverted the topic, pointing to the computer screen: "So, what are these charts for?"

"That’s a long story, listen carefully..."

Fifteen minutes later, the noodle soup had gone cold. Not long ago, Xia An had been sitting on that same plastic stool watching Tang Wan play *Fight the Landlord*. Why hadn't he felt this restless then?

"The K-line chart is what this is. Red represents a rise, green represents a fall."

Dad, couldn't you have said that in one sentence?

Congested and turning red is a rise.
"Greened," wilted, is a fall.

Xia An nodded in understanding. Xia Kangning waved his fan and shifted his weight to ensure the breeze reached his son.

Xia An asked, "Dad, you’re so proficient, you must have studied this a lot. But I’ve heard people say the stock market is just like gambling..."

"That is a misconception."

Closing his folding fan with a snap, Xia Kangning cut him off. "That’s the core of the issue. To the average person, it is gambling. But to those of us who have mastered the principles, analyzed the trends, and planned our moves, it is picking up money."

He paused, snapped the fan open, and began to sway his head rhythmically. "Fate first, luck second. Everything in this world is like that. You can work hard to change your luck, but fate..."

He claimed that after years of immersion, he was practically a consultant in this circle. He asked if Xia An had heard of how scientists like Newton turned to God in their old age.

Xia Kangning continued: "We firmly believe that within this money-printing machine called the stock market, there exists an invisible deity controlling the subtle rises and falls."

*!*
The old man had lost his mind. Xia An was stunned.

"Then," Xia An swallowed hard and squinted, "have you bought any?"

"Not yet."

"Why?"

Xia An knew it was because the Olympics hadn't arrived yet, but he asked to lead the conversation where he wanted it to go. Actually, his unusual initiative to chat with his father today had surprised Xia Kangning, but he felt gratified.

As Xia An had said, his son was older now and willing to talk to his elders. Xia Kangning maintained his usual feigned seriousness, but he was pleased inside. Getting into the spirit of it, he told Xia An that he had consulted with several "like-minded" friends who often pontificated on the securities market.

The Olympics were a golden opportunity. When the time came, they would buy tourism stocks, entertainment stocks... It was a sure thing, a guaranteed profit. The gist was: that god also watched the Olympic Games.

"Buying stocks is just like conducting yourself in life—you must not be impatient. Stability is the key."

"Mm-hmm."

*Guaranteed profit?* Xia An wanted to laugh; it was more like guaranteed loss.

Xia Kangning asked why he wanted to learn this. Xia An just said he was curious. Xia Kangning thought for a moment and advised: "Growing up is good, but the pressure will be great. You're still at the age for school; don't think about cutting corners or speculating. Finish your degree, then think about other things." Young people were too reckless and would suffer in the stock market. He added, "If you're short on money, ask at home, ask your mother."

Xia An raised an eyebrow and teased his father about his secret stash. How could one study stocks without capital? The family had 100,000 yuan in savings. Last year, Xia Kangning had persuaded Xia’s mother to allocate 70,000 yuan for the market. It was already in the trading account. The rest was for Xia An’s tuition and living expenses, while their daily needs were covered by their salaries.

It was a gamble. And last time, they had lost.

Xia An couldn't let his father lose again. Even though he knew he would soon become wealthy through sports betting and domain name sales, he didn't intend to tell his family about those funds yet. If the old man had a sudden whim to enter the market early and lost everything, the blow to his confidence would be fatal. It wasn't about the amount; it was their hard-earned money saved over half a lifetime.

"Dad, what was that simulation program you mentioned? Can I try it?"

"Sure."

Old Xia had once "slaughtered the field" in the simulation game, and he was more excited than Xia An to talk about it. For the next hour, Xia Kangning personally taught his son—who was actually ten thousand times more proficient than him—how to operate the software, how to buy and sell...

When Xia Kangning grew tired and went out to enjoy the air conditioning, Xia An glanced at the door and switched from the simulation to the real account. Looking at the 70,000.00 yuan resting silently in the account, he didn't hesitate for a second...

He found the stock and went all-in. Then, he closed the software.

He opened QQ and messaged Liu Youwei and Zhang Tiancheng, who were coding in the basement, asking them to send him a timed virus. It would auto-run upon the next startup.

...

In reality, he had already left many clues during the conversation with his father. He was too aggressive. It was only because he hadn't been close to his parents lately that Xia Kangning hadn't noticed anything amiss. But he couldn't wait. The moment he caught that spark of inspiration while eating noodles, he had used his phone to check the opening price.

His eyes had turned red; a chill ran down his back. Was this the luck of a reborn person?

600804, *Peng Boshi*. The top bull stock in the Shanghai and Shenzhen markets for 2006 and 2007.

From its "hidden in the deep boudoir" low point, it had surged all the way up, rising 1,800% in 2006. After falling back to 7 yuan in 2007, it had soared again by 500%. Although Xia An didn't invest much in the secondary market, this legendary stock—which would later be renamed "ST" and approach delisting—was often mentioned by his friends.

He had glanced at it several times while his father was lecturing him. Today was Monday, July 17th. The opening price was 5 yuan. It was 10:45 AM. The price was 5.36 yuan. It wasn't the absolute bottom, but it was quite good.

Now, he believed that the "God of Rises and Falls" his father spoke of truly existed. The stock code was Xia Kangning’s birthday. After studying technical analysis for so many years and reading so many theories, you should have just bought your own birthday, Dad.

...

Three hours later, Xia An was called out by a phone call from Tang Wan. While he was meeting Zhang Chunmin, Xia Kangning, bored, turned on the computer.

The virus took hold. The computer crashed.

Xia Kangning called Xia An, asking if it was broken. It was an expensive piece of equipment; he’d be heartbroken if it died. Xia An suppressed a laugh and told him not to worry, he’d find a friend to fix it, and it would be ready in a few days.

During the days the computer was "being repaired," on July 19th, *Peng Boshi* released an official announcement. In a share reform conducted in early June, because the major shareholder could not provide a high-value consideration plan, he transferred his personal "Yanjing City Security Monitoring and Alarm Networking System and Olympic Venue Monitoring" project to *Peng Boshi* for free.

That day, the stock price skyrocketed.

And that major shareholder who transferred the key project authorization was named Hao Liancheng. He had started his business twenty years ago, traveled through the south, and achieved great success. But last year, he lost his wife and son, and his hair turned white overnight. Alone and contemplating retirement, Hao Liancheng had returned to his hometown in Dongshan Province three days ago.

He walked through his old school and wandered the old streets. Feeling that the world had changed, he drank alone at a late-night barbecue stall to console himself. At that moment, he saw a pair of young lovers in white, looking as elegant as ancient scholars. They looked so much like his late wife and himself when they were childhood sweethearts.

Tears soaked his shirt. *Fine, what do wealth and status mean to me now? Let it go, let it go.*

He flew back to Shanghai a week earlier than in his previous life and signed the agreement.

...

At this very moment, Xia An, who had just closed the computer and left the room, did not know that the man he had described as a "sleazy laboring wage slave" on the side of the road that night would be the one to help him achieve the status of a "second-generation rich" in the coming two years. Nor could he have imagined that when the computer came back and he tried to explain this "accident" to Xia Kangning, he would almost lose his father prematurely.

Now, he could only hear the endless chirping of cicadas and the constant wind. And the deep, steady voice of the documentary narrator:

"Every tiny grain of sand, visible only under a microscope, stacks upon another to form the 9.32 million square kilometers of the Sahara. Every breeze that blows over the Atlantic exerts a subtle force on those myriad grains, changing the shape of the dunes every single moment. And in our universe, there are as many celestial bodies as there are grains of sand. They are separated by vast distances, invisible to the naked eye. Yet, each of their rotations and movements, and the gravitational effects they exert on space-time, will steer this boundless universe to present a picture that seems coincidental, but is in fact inevitable..."