Time rewound to half a month earlier. During a break from his part-time job, Cheng Lang sought out several customers who often came to White Jade Capital for entertainment, got along fairly well with him, had some spare cash on hand, and—most importantly—had nothing to do with Forest Style Milk Tea. He invited them to a VIP room on the second floor.
"Would you gentlemen be interested in making a little pocket money?" Cheng Lang asked with a smile.
Although Cheng Lang was currently only a resident singer at White Jade Capital, the familiar customers clearly did not see him as merely a singer there to entertain them. Every time he made a move, it stirred up a bloody storm.
Hearing Cheng Lang's question, someone immediately asked with interest, "What do you have in mind?"
Cheng Lang put on an innocent smile and blinked harmlessly. "I'm going to short First Milk Tea."
The moment those words came out, the bosses were stunned. The private room was quiet, and they had all heard clearly that Cheng Lang had said, "I'm going to short First Milk Tea," not "I want to short First Milk Tea." One word made all the difference.
"Brother Cheng, you certainly are confident," one of the bosses said with a smile. "I also believe you're exceptionally gifted. Give you a few more years, and you'll surely become a business prodigy people will have to admire. But shorting isn't ordinary business operations. It requires enormous capital. You should know the stock market changes by the second. It's far more dangerous than marketing and advertising."
"You may be a finance student at X University, but you don't have even a scrap of experience trading or manipulating the market. With just one sentence, you want us to play this market-maker game