I was just about to shut down the computer when I suddenly noticed that Hanhai’s stock was surging.
And it was climbing fast—shooting up 10% in no ti. Unlike the dostic stock market, the U.S. market is a different beast. A single percentage point here ans tens or even hundreds of billions of dollars. For a spike this big, how much money would it take? Without serious planning and elaborate maneuvers, it’d be absolutely impossible.
But what had happened? Qin Zhiyou clearly hadn’t made any moves, and those high-level executives outside were still as frantic as ants on a hot pan. Though they held themselves together well, knowing it was late at night and making a scene wouldn’t look good, their nervous pacing back and forth kept the floor restless. Even so, their restraint didn’t stop hospital patients from complaining—he’d just received a complaint call a few minutes ago!
Could it be that Qin Zhiyou, while seemingly holed up in his hospital room, had been pulling so strings all along? Was he not as silent as he appeared?
He quickly called the nurse stationed in the ward. "Aunt Lu’s condition—how is she doing?"
The nurse replied, "She’s the sa as when she was first admitted. Her condition has stabilized, but she isn’t eating, isn’t sleeping, and barely drinks water either."
After throwing out a seemingly casual question, Zhao Zihao followed up, "And what about President Qin?"
"Mr. Qin is the sa too. He’s been sitting in the chair for hours now, almost entirely motionless. If he hadn’t shifted positions a few tis, I’d have been afraid sothing had happened to him."
Zhao Zihao was baffled. Strange. While it’s true that Hanhai prided itself on reforming from a family-run enterprise into a modern corporate machine, it all still hinged on Qin Zhiyou’s leadership. For small matters, the company could run smoothly thanks to its mature systems. But for critical decisions, nothing major could move forward without Qin Zhiyou’s word.
Critical decisions such as whether to halt trading when the market tanked too hard, or how to handle unexpected ergencies. But judging by the upward montum of the stock right now, Hanhai’s prices were still soaring at full steam. The bulls were firmly in control, crushing the bears into submission. Unless there was so groundbreaking positive news—or Hanhai had mobilized countless financial giants—such a relentless climb would be impossible. But to fuel this push, at least hundreds of billions of dollars must have been thrown in. Could Hanhai even afford such a staggering sum?
He hadn’t even figured out what caused it when a call ca through: "What the hell are you doing? Didn’t you say she was dead? Why is she on Twitter saying she’s alive?"
Zhao Zihao jumped in shock and hurriedly refreshed Twitter. Sure enough, trending at the very top were two hashtags: #I’mStillAlive and #DefamationLawsuit. Clicking on them, the first thing he saw was a video of Lu Weixi herself saying clearly, "Hello everyone, I’m Lu Weixi, wife of Hanhai Group’s president Qin Zhiyou—the one who was kidnapped a few days ago. I’m sorry to have worried you all. I’m currently in good condition; both my baby and I are safe and sound. We’re not in any danger. Thank you all for your concern."
If the first hashtag was playing the "good cop," the second, the #DefamationLawsuit, was the "bad cop." The lawsuit ca directly from one of Arica’s most prestigious law firms. In the statent, a senior attorney strongly condemned the false rumors of Lu Weixi’s death, vowing to pursue legal action and seek damages.
These announcents perfectly complented the third trending topic: #HanhaiStockPrice.
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