vstars Chapter 6 | The Night Before the Chapter Was Withdrawn
Chapter 6 | The Night Before the Chapter Was Withdrawn
That year, Faraday Future's stock price fell below 300 for the first time without any major negative news.
It's not a collapse, just a dip. Like a block of ice that has finally cracked.
The market then began to differentiate.
Tech stocks are no longer rising in unison, and funds are beginning to selectively withdraw.
Some sectors are still hitting new highs, while others have quietly weakened.
News wording has become more cautious:
"Valuation discrepancies have widened."
"The preference for funds has changed."
"Some overvalued assets are facing a test."
These words were all too familiar to Ethan.
He had stood on the other side of this "eve" countless times.
But this time, he didn't feel excited.
What he felt was anxiety.
It wasn't anxiety about direction. It was anxiety about time; he stared at Faraday's trajectory for a long time.
A count below three hundred should have been a symbol.
It symbolizes a loosening of faith.
It symbolizes the brewing of panic.
However, the market did not continue to fall as he had expected.
Instead, it started to trade sideways. It even occasionally rebounded.
This gave him a very uncomfortable feeling—the world wasn't cooperating with him.
What truly threw him off balance was not Faraday.
It's a different stock.
That was a company he had been researching for almost two years.
Its business model is fragile, its financial structure is distorted, yet its valuation is touted as a "next-generation core asset."
In his model, this company is bound to crash.
It's not a probability, it's a conclusion. He can even calculate what kind of chain reaction would be triggered if the price falls below a certain level.
The problem is that—making decisions publicly impossible.
The risk control team wouldn't agree. The partners wouldn't agree either, not because they don't understand it, but because—the risk is too concentrated.
And Ethan knew this better than anyone else.
He began to say a sentence to himself:
I simply did what the company would have done sooner or later.
This was not a public operation.
This is not a formal strategy.
But -
A portion of the fund's liquidity was misappropriated.
It wasn't large in scale. At least, it didn't seem large to him.
It only accounts for a small part of the whole.
But he did something extremely dangerous:
He added a very high leverage.
This wasn't the first time he had used a lever.
But this is the first time—without any buffer—that a lever has been used.
It's not for hedging.
It's not for the sake of structure.
Rather, it's for speed.
He wanted to get results before the market truly reacted.
He was very calm on the day he placed the order. In fact, calmer than ever before.
There was no racing heart, and no hesitation.
He checked all the parameters several times:
price.
Margin.
Forced liquidation line.
Every number is within his "controllable range".
He said to himself:
It'll just fluctuate a little at most, it's nothing to worry about.
On the first day, the stock price dipped slightly as he had expected.
It wasn't much, but it was enough to prove that we were on the right track.
His account showed a floating profit.
At that moment, he felt no excitement.
Just to confirm:
I didn't see it wrong.
Before the market opened the next day, he even considered reducing his position.
But one thought prevailed over the other:
If I were to lose weight now, why would I take the risk?
He chose to hold his position.
On the third day, the market suddenly changed.
No bad news.
There were no unforeseen events.
But—the funds have returned.
It's as if someone is in a certain position, deciding to prop up the price.
The stock price began to rise. Soon, it recovered the losses from the previous two days.
His profits vanished, and he stared at the screen without panicking.
I just feel—
It seems a bit early.
On the fourth day, the upward trend continued.
It's not a surge.
It is a stable and continuous upward trend.
Every candlestick is approaching his liquidation line.
He began to quickly adjust the parameters.
It's not about reducing positions. It's about increasing margin.
The bank's credit line was quickly put to use, and he knew exactly what he was doing. This was a classic example of "trading time for space."
He will be able to extricate himself once the market turns around.
But the market did not turn back.
On the fifth day,
At a moment without warning,
A line of red text popped up on his screen:
margin Call
It's not a warning, it's a formal notification.
He subconsciously clicked "Add Margin".
The system, however, acted even faster than him:
The words "Forced Liquidation" popped up prominently on the screen.
At that moment, there was no sound. The trading hall remained silent.
The keyboard clicks and the air conditioner hummed as usual.
Only his positions on the screen were cleared out, one by one. The price continued to rise after his positions were liquidated.
It's like confirming something cruel:
The market isn't targeting him.
She simply doesn't care about him.
A few minutes later, it was all over.
And his account didn't just go to zero.
Instead, it's a negative number.
He sat in the chair, motionless for a long time. No images flashed through his mind, only a few lines of prompting kept replaying in his head:
Amount of loss.
Fund losses.
Bank debt.
Things really went wrong on a very ordinary morning.
Ethan woke up very early the next day, not because of insomnia, but because his phone kept vibrating.
He lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, and only slowly sat up after the shaking stopped.
The first email came from the company's audit department.
The title looks normal, even a bit polite.
Please cooperate with an internal audit of liquidity usage.
He stared at the line of text for a few seconds, but didn't click on it.
He already knew where the problem lay.
It's not a stock.
It's not about direction.
It's money itself.
Then, his system access to the fund was temporarily frozen.
It's not a sudden disconnection, but rather a pop-up message telling him he needs to "contact the administrator later".
This is even more upsetting than a direct account ban; it's like a reminder:
We've started keeping an eye on you.
After arriving at the company in the morning, Ethan received a call from his partner.
The other person spoke calmly, without blaming or showing any emotion.
I just asked him one question:
"Did you arrange those funds yourself?"
Ethan was silent for a moment, then said, "Yes."
There was a two-second pause on the other end of the phone.
"Why wasn't the approval process followed?"
He opened his mouth, as if to explain.
In the end, he only said one sentence: "I don't think it's time."
There was no immediate response on the other end of the phone.
Then the other party said, "Then you should prepare some explanatory materials."
The audit was faster than he had expected.
In the afternoon, he was asked to explain every single operation he had performed during that period.
Which sum of money, from which account?
Whether it was permitted or recorded.
When that line was circled, he didn't even have the urge to argue anymore.
"Temporary liquidity allocation".
He had seen this word countless times in the system before.
I never imagined that one day it would be used on me.
In the evening, the company's legal counsel arrived.
It wasn't a lawyer he hired; it was the company's own lawyer.
The other person placed the documents on the table and spoke very slowly.
The problem now is not that you made a wrong judgment.
"It's not that you used money you shouldn't have."
"This is different in nature."
Ethan nodded.
Of course he knew it was different.
Then the bank statement arrived.
It's a complete set, and every page is very clear:
Credit amount.
Additional margin required.
Interest.
He turned to the last page and saw the total. At that moment, he did not panic.
It just feels a little unreal.
It's like looking at someone else's account, just a string of numbers.
Meanwhile, the world on the other side also began to become noisy.
Ethan saw the first discussion on social media.
Some people dug up old photos and said the timeline didn't match.
Then came the tattoos.
Same position, same lines.
He knew this would be exposed sooner or later.
I just didn't expect it to happen at this time.
SM's response was much faster than he had expected.
No one came looking for him.
No one offered an explanation.
Just one day later, the news came out.
very short.
Winter has amicably parted ways with her non-celebrity partner and will focus on her future activities.
It has no name.
But he knew who they were talking about.
That night, Ethan sat alone in his apartment.
The table was piled with documents.
Lawyer's letter, audit report, bank statement.
They were arranged neatly, one by one.
He didn't call anyone.
It wasn't out of spite.
Rather, it was because he suddenly realized something—
This is no longer something that two people can handle.
She was at the peak of her career.
Every movement will be magnified.
And now, he is a potential source of danger that could explode at any moment.
Being quarantined is the most rational choice.
Ethan leaned back on the sofa and closed his eyes for a while.
What flashed through my mind was not the loss.
Rather, it was those moments when he had convinced himself.
Just this once.
"I'm very sure."
"As long as you win, nobody cares about the process."
Now, nothing he has won matters anymore.
He finally understood something.
He lost more than just money.
It's not about reputation either.
Rather, it was the line he had always thought he was still guarding.
It was a quiet day.
without crashing.
There was no crying.
Only a belated sense of shame slowly crept in.
It's heavier than any other loss.
It was already very late at night.
Ethan sat in front of the computer with the screen brightness turned down low, the only sound in the room being the computer's fan.
I scrolled down the news page, one article at a time.
The title has remained almost unchanged:
Ethan Chow, a well-known hedge fund star trader, has been exposed for unauthorized manipulation of fund liquidity, resulting in losses exceeding $100 million USD for the fund.
He looked at his own name as if it were a message unrelated to him.
This isn't the first time I've seen this.
This time, however, he didn't jump over it.
There are analytical articles.
There is a timeline.
According to an "insider".
Each one was written very completely.
When will it start?
Which portion of the funds was misappropriated, and why did risk control fail?
Someone even summarized his state of mind at the time.
— "Overconfidence."
— "Success made me lose my head."
— "A classic tragedy of a star trader."
Ethan looked at these words and felt no urge to refute them.
Because they are not all wrong either.
He opened the comments section.
Some people criticized him for being greedy.
Some people say it was only a matter of time.
Some people gloated, saying they had finally witnessed the myth being shattered.
The top-rated comment only has one sentence:
"He didn't misjudge the market; he just thought he could circumvent the rules."
Ethan stared at that sentence for a long time.
Then I slowly clicked close.
There was a cup of coffee on the table that had long since gone cold.
He leaned back in his chair, looked away from the screen, and gazed out the window.
The city lights were still on.
The lights in the distance seem to never sleep, as if the world never needs to stop and wait for anyone.
He recalled that period of time.
Not at the moment of failure, but much earlier.
For the first time, I felt like "I know more".
For the first time, I felt that "rules are for other people to use".
This is the first time I've used "just once" as a reason.
Those choices that seemed insignificant at the time are now all etched into the timeline.
The phone was placed aside, but it remained off.
No news.
no phone.
He didn't go to see it either.
He already knew,
Some things will never get a reply.
Ethan closed the laptop.
The room suddenly went dark.
At that moment, he suddenly realized a very simple fact—
He didn't lose to the market.
It wasn't that we lost to someone else.
He just,
At a moment when he thought he had "won,"
The last bottom line,
It was treated as something that could be overcome.
The night was quiet.
The room was dark.
Ethan leaned back in his chair, his eyes closed, but he couldn't fall asleep.
It's not insomnia.
However, there was no longer any reason for the body to remain conscious.
The computer is closed.
The phone is placed face down on the table.
The world finally quieted down.
It started with tinnitus.
It's very light, like an electric current.
He thought it was because he hadn't rested for too long and didn't pay attention.
Next came a strange feeling of falling.
It's not the body that's moving.
Rather, it's consciousness, as if it's been pulled away from somewhere.
He instinctively tried to open his eyes.
However, they found that the act of "opening" itself had become very difficult.
The sound began to fade away.
The city's low hum.
The sound of the air conditioner running.
They were all pulled very far away.
It's like someone slowly turning the volume knob down.
A series of images suddenly flashed through his mind.
Life isn't a revolving lantern.
Instead, they were just some meaningless details—
The red and green on the trading screen.
The title of the audit email.
The numbers on the last page of the bank statement.
And that news article.
"Misappropriation of funds".
He even remembered the font of those words.
Then, the screen suddenly froze.
Not black.
Very white.
It's bright, but not dazzling.
It looks like the screen hasn't finished loading.
He wanted to move.
I want to confirm if I'm still alive.
But the act of "thinking" itself has also begun to become blurred.
At that moment, he felt fear for the first time.
It's not about death.
Rather, it's about one thing—
If everything ends like this, he won't even have a chance to correct his mistakes.
The instant this thought arose—
The world paused for a moment.
next second.
A sudden rush of air filled my lungs.
The air is cold.
it's too cold.
Ethan suddenly opened his eyes.
A blinding white light fell from above.
Yes—the morning sunlight.
He instinctively raised his hand to block it.
Her hands are very young.
There are no prominent veins.
There was no slight tremor.
The movements were clean and powerful.
He sat up.
My heart is beating very fast.
It's not pathological.
It's that kind of...
The physiological heartbeat that only occurs when you first wake up.
The room is wrong.
It wasn't the apartment he remembered.
The ceiling is even lower.
The curtains are light-colored.
Several thick books were piled on the desk.
There's one more—
An older model laptop.
He looked towards the corner of the wall.
The electronic clock is lit.
The time is clearly displayed:
07: 10 AM
2020 years.