lovenovelstory Chapter 4 | He began to feel it was unfair
Chapter 4 | He began to feel it was unfair
Ethan Chow's name first appeared in mainstream financial media on a Friday morning.
The title isn't exaggerated, but it's eye-catching enough:
"The Second Short Selling of Faraday Future: Who Will Be the Next 'Big Short'?"
The article does not provide a definitive answer.
It just used a very ambiguous sentence structure—
Some industry insiders believe that Ethan Chow's operations...
It has already demonstrated a similar calmness and foresight to the protagonist of "The Big Short" from back then.
For the next week, he was hardly treated as an "ordinary trader" anymore.
Program invitations began to appear.
In internal meetings, his judgment was used as a "reference line".
Even external LPs of the fund who had never spoken to him before started naming him in emails:
What is Ethan's view on risk?
This change happened so fast that people didn't even have time to realize it.
This is a leap in status.
But behind the applause, one thing has never changed.
money.
To be precise, the distribution of money.
At the settlement meeting following the end of the second short position in Farah, a line of numbers was clearly displayed on the screen:
Fund net income: $48,700,000
Ethan Chow's personal prize money split: $1,200,000
Applause immediately erupted in the conference room.
"Well done."
"This is textbook-level."
"Without you, we wouldn't be able to enjoy this part."
Ethan smiled and nodded.
At that moment, he was genuinely happy.
He didn't look at the numbers again until he returned to his workstation, sat down alone, and looked at them once more.
Forty-eight million.
One million two hundred thousand.
He stared at the screen and suddenly felt that the gap between the two numbers was a little glaring.
Although I tried to suppress the thought, a thought still quietly surfaced.
Without me, this money shouldn't exist.
He immediately suppressed the thought as soon as it crossed his mind.
This was a dangerous idea, and he certainly knew it.
He always knew very well—
If a trader starts calculating "how much am I worth," they're already close to risk.
The problem is, the world has already started to make the calculations for him.
The media started describing him based on "how much revenue he generated." Colleagues began saying privately:
"The company made a killing from this."
"Ethan only took a small fraction of the money."
Nobody said, "This is unfair."
But every time it's brought up, it's like adding fuel to the fire of that thought.
What truly changed his mind was a company dinner.
It was an internal celebration for the fund. The restaurant was quiet, and the wine was excellent.
When the partner raised his glass, his tone was unusually relaxed:
"It's been rare to see such a clean short-selling wave in recent years."
Then, he looked at Ethan:
"What you bring to the company is more than just money."
"And reputation too."
After he finished speaking, everyone looked at him.
At that moment, Ethan felt a sense of satisfaction he had never experienced before.
It's not just about being recognized, it's about being needed.
After a couple of rounds of drinks, someone half-jokingly said:
"Ethan, why don't you start your own fund?"
This was just a joke, but the room fell silent for a moment.
Then someone laughed and added:
"Then he needs to save up some of his own capital first."
Ethan laughed too, but this joke was like a seed planted in his heart.
That night, he returned home but did not go to sleep immediately.
He turned on his computer and went through the second short seller's trading log again.
Every time I enter the venue.
Each time I added to my position.
Every time I leave.
He looked at it slowly and carefully. Finally, he stopped at a number.
Maximum available funds limit: That line is not naturally formed; it is artificially set.
For the first time, he seriously thought about it:
If that wasn't company money, but mine, what would I do?
The answer is clear.
He will increase the stakes.
Use more funds when he is most confident.
The next day, he went to the risk control department.
It was just a normal chat.
"If a certain strategy has very stable historical backtesting results,"
He asked, "Within the framework, is it permissible to temporarily increase the leverage?"
The risk control person thought for a moment and said:
"Theoretically, yes."
"But a reason is needed."
"So... what kind of reason is considered sufficient?"
"The signal is strong enough, and... the person operating the trades is trustworthy enough."
That's a very professional way of saying it.
But to Ethan, it sounded like a key.
That night, he made a phone call to Winter.
She had just finished her trip, and her voice was still a little hoarse.
You don't sound very happy.
The person on the other end of the phone said.
Ethan leaned back on the sofa, remained silent for a moment, and then spoke.
"Don't you think..."
He spoke slowly, "Sometimes, the world demands a lot from you, but only gives you a tiny bit in return?"
She paused for a moment.
"meeting."
She said, "But I still have to do it."
Why?
"Because if I don't do it, it will never be my turn."
This sentence is very simple.
But it seemed like a response to his slight unease.
After hanging up the phone, Ethan sat in the dark.
He suddenly realized something—
He was no longer satisfied with being "allowed".
A few days later, he made a very small, inconspicuous adjustment in a transaction.
There was no filing or declaration.
They simply moved some of the funds that should have been reserved as a buffer into the main account.
The amount wasn't large, and the proportion wasn't excessive.
But this was the first time he had ever crossed that line.
At that moment, his heart was racing.
It's not because of fear.
Rather, it was because of a strong sense of danger:
I know what I'm doing.
He did not write "violation" in his trading log.
Only one line was written:
"Signal confirmed, proceed with amplification."
This line of text looks incredibly professional, yet it's also incredibly deadly.
When the leverage was increased for the third time, Ethan Chow was no longer mentally prepared.
The market was very clean that day.
The signal is clear, the structure is reasonable, and the news is even on his side.
Everything seemed to be telling him:
you can.
He sat in front of the screen, his fingers hovering over the keyboard for less than a second before pushing the lever to the same position as before.
No warning popped up from the system, and the risk control line remained firmly in the safe zone.
The unrealized profit in the account quickly appeared.
It wasn't explosive growth. It was the kind of "gradual, expected" growth.
Ethan stared at the numbers and realized something—
He has started using "the previous success" as an excuse.
This time, he did not write a trading log.
It's not that I forgot, it's that I felt it wasn't necessary.
The process has been run and the results have been verified.
He simply labeled the deal silently in his mind:
"Standard procedure."
He was winning for several weeks in a row.
It's not the kind of exaggeratedly high profit margin.
Instead, it's about stable, consistent, and virtually error-free profits.
One thing began to be accepted as a tacit agreement within the company:
As long as Ethan is monitoring the market, this period of risk is "controllable".
The privileges were not explicitly elevated.
But many restrictions are beginning to become blurred.
Some numbers actually need to be confirmed;
Now, as long as no one asks, it's considered reasonable.
Ethan could see it very clearly.
But he didn't stop.
Because he discovered something even more dangerous—
He has begun to feel that stopping is a waste.
Just as he was immersed in this "smoothness",
Problems are starting to arise on Winter's end.
Her schedule was canceled at the last minute that day.
It's not because of the announcement adjustment.
Rather, it's because—they were replaced.
The reason is very official:
"Overall positioning adjustment."
"Resource reallocation".
She stood in the company corridor, the lights were bright, yet there was nowhere to hide.
The agent didn't look her in the eye.
It's not that you're not good enough.
The other person said, "But now is not your time."
She had heard this phrase many times.
But this time, it's different.
Because she has already debuted.
They're already on stage.
Yet, a single sentence easily pushed them back to square one.
She endured it all day.
Practice, look in the mirror, smile.
It wasn't until I got back to my dorm that night and closed the door that I felt like all my strength had been drained away.
She sat on the floor, leaning against the door, her phone in her hand.
After hesitating for a long time, I finally dialed that number.
Meanwhile, in New York, it was the most critical moment.
Ethan stared at the betting odds.
The market suddenly reacted strangely. A considerable amount of capital began to flow against his position.
It's a game of strategy.
He immediately adjusted the structure, flattening out a portion and replacing it with a hedge with higher leverage.
The numbers on the screen were jumping around very fast.
At this moment, any distraction will affect judgment.
My phone vibrated on the table.
He saw it. But he couldn't answer the phone.
She saw that no one was answering the phone.
She thought it was a bad signal, so she called again.
Still no one answered.
She stared at the screen, her eyes welling up with tears, feeling a bit like mushrooms.
For Ethan, the game is over.
The market retreated, and his position stabilized accordingly.
In fact, he made even more money because of that counterattack.
He leaned back in his chair and let out a long sigh.
This bet was a win.
He instinctively picked up his phone and saw two missed calls. The names were familiar.
Winter.
Just as he was about to call back, a message from his partner popped up.
"That part was handled very well."
"Your current pace is perfect."
This message was like a needle, precisely piercing his most swollen nerve.
He replied with:
"Just follow the flow."
Then, I put my phone down.
When he picked up his phone again, it was already late at night.
He called back. It rang for a long time.
But no one answered.
The next day, Winter sent Ethan a message.
very short.
"Nothing happened yesterday, you go ahead and do your thing."
There were no complaints, no accusations.
This leaves people speechless.
Ethan stared at the line of text, and his heart suddenly sank.
He replied:
"I was trading last night."
"I didn't see it."
It took them a long time to reply.
"I know."
There are only these three words.
That day, he made another profit.
The number is not small.
But for the first time, after the settlement was completed...
I did not feel any pleasure.