yournovel 041 Can see it but can't eat it
041 Can see it but can't eat it
July 18, 2012, was just an ordinary summer morning for most people, so hot it made them want to curse.
But for Wang Zhe, sitting in front of his computer, this was a crucial day that would determine whether his first pot of gold could double and whether he could become rich quickly.
9:15.
The opening auction has begun.
Wang Zhe's fingers tapped unconsciously on the table, his eyes fixed on the screen. Even after several minutes, the information displayed on the screen remained unchanged.
The price displayed on the screen is 5.92 yuan.
The increase is +10.04%.
The stock price hit its daily limit.
It was like an impatient, burly man who rushed in the moment the door opened, without any foreplay.
On the buyer's order page, the string of numbers was despair-inducing: 500,000 lots, or 500 million shares.
In the seller's field, the number was a bare 0, which was disheartening.
"This is what they call... expected, despair."
Wang Zhe leaned back in his chair, a helpless, bitter smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
This stock has been suspended from trading for six years.
Six years! How many days and nights have those veteran stock investors, who were trapped in the market since 2006, waited in the dark?
Now, this stock has finally found strong investors and re-entered the market. Who would be foolish enough to sell on the first limit-up day? It's like someone who's been thirsty in the desert for three days and three nights, just seeing an oasis, and you tell them to take a sip of water and leave?
Impossible, unless you've been kicked in the head by a donkey.
The stock market officially opened at 9:30 a.m.
But Wasu Media's stock price remained unmoved, stubbornly stuck at 5.92. The white intraday chart line formed a straight line, which, in Wang Zhe's eyes, seemed to carry a hint of mockery.
Despite being told by Li Zhi that it was pointless, Wang Zhe still placed all of his 330,000 yuan in buy orders.
Press the Enter key.
System notification: [The request has been submitted and is in the queue].
Then there is no more then.
His money was like a drop of water flowing into a huge ocean of buy orders, not even making a ripple. Unless those hundreds of thousands of sell orders were withdrawn, or billions of sell orders were dumped, he simply couldn't have made the transaction.
Wang Zhe sighed, sank deeply into his chair, and stared blankly at the flat, unchanging board.
This feeling is awful, even more agonizing than losing money.
It's like a stunningly beautiful woman lying in a transparent, bulletproof glass case. You know she belongs to you, you've brought enough ransom, and you even know the key will eventually be in your hands.
But right now, you just can't open that cabinet.
He clearly remembered that in his previous life, his roommate, Lao Zhang, had boasted in the dormitory that this stock would rise to nearly 14 yuan this year.
In other words, the current price of 5.92 yuan is still incredibly cheap, like gold everywhere.
Even if it hits the daily limit up tomorrow, the day after tomorrow, or even the day after that... as long as the price is below 10 yuan, you can make a profit by buying it with your eyes closed.
"The question is, when can we buy in?"
Wang Zhe stared at the screen, his brows furrowed.
Tomorrow will most likely see another day of low-volume limit-up trading.
It might be the day after tomorrow too.
Even the day after tomorrow...
The helplessness of knowing full well that it was a gold mine, yet having to stand at the foot of the mountain queuing to buy tickets, made even the reborn Xi feel a sense of frustration.
I kept watching until 11:30 a.m., when the market closed.
The trading volume was very low, indicating that only a very small number of retail investors managed to break even and exit at this price, or unlucky individuals who were desperately in need of money to save their lives.
Wang Zhe's account is still in the "submitted but pending transaction" status.
He turned off the monitor, looked at his young but slightly tired face reflected in the black screen, and smiled self-deprecatingly.
"Looks like I'll be spending the next few days in 'queues'."
Although I know I'll be able to buy in sooner or later, and I know I'll make this money sooner or later, the feeling of just waiting is really disheartening.
It's so frustrating, so incredibly frustrating.
Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.
3 PM.
Summer in Chengdu never jokes with you. The sun outside is so scorching that it feels like you're being burned alive. The asphalt roads are so hot that they gleam with oil, and the air is filled with the smell of melting asphalt.
Wang Zhe braved the scorching sun to visit Song Zhiyi's home.
As soon as he entered, the cool air from the air conditioner brought him back to life a little.
"You're here?"
Song Zhiyi was sitting on the sofa in the living room reading a book, holding a glass of iced lemonade. Seeing him come in, she didn't get up, but simply pointed to the refrigerator: "There's chilled watermelon, freshly cut. Help yourself."
Jiang Di's voice came from the study, with that unique, praise-seeking tone: "I've been doing practice problems all day, I haven't even touched my phone!"
Wang Zhe didn't reply. He changed his shoes and went straight to the refrigerator, taking out a slice of watermelon.
The cool juice flowed down my throat, suppressing the inexplicable anxiety in my heart.
But he didn't take out his phone to browse financial news as usual; he even found his phone a bit annoying.
Today's stock market is just a decoration for him to look at but not touch; even glancing at it feels like it's mocking his powerlessness.
He threw the watermelon rind into the trash can, wiped his hands, and walked to the door of the study.
Jiang Di was lying on the table, twirling a pen in her hand. When she saw him coming, she immediately sat up straight and gave him a well-behaved smile.
Wang Zhe nodded, as if to say hello. His smile lacked its usual playfulness, replaced by a faint sense of detachment and weariness.
Then he turned and went to the bookshelf.
Song Zhiyi's bookshelves are very large, filled with all kinds of books, from world classics to popular novels.
Wang Zhe's fingers slid across the spines of the books.
One Hundred Years of Solitude is too heavy, Dream of the Red Chamber is too tedious, and Currency Wars is even more annoying to read.
Finally, his finger stopped on a slightly yellowed copy of "Zhuangzi" and pulled it from the bookshelf.
"Why are you suddenly looking at this?" Song Zhiyi asked curiously from the side.
"If you're feeling restless and agitated, try looking at something detached from worldly concerns to calm down."
Wang Zhe casually picked up the book, walked to the single sofa on the other side of the living room, sat down, adjusted to a comfortable position, and turned to the most famous page.
In the Northern Ocean there is a fish, its name is Kun. Kun is so large that no one knows how many thousands of miles it spans…
The characters are beautiful, and the writing is excellent.
That carefree, "whatever" attitude can indeed help people temporarily detach themselves from the ups and downs of the stock market and forget about worldly troubles.
In the study.
Jiang Di finished a difficult problem, put down her pen, and secretly peeked into the living room.
"Sister Song..." she asked in a low voice, "Don't you think he's acting a little strange today?"
"Something's not right?"
"I feel like I've aged several years all of a sudden..."
Song Zhiyi thought for a moment, then suddenly said with certainty, "It must be because of stock trading. My dad is like that; sometimes he suddenly looks several years older, and when I ask him, it's because he sold at a loss. Yes, that's right, that's how stock trading works."
Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.