Super Rich: Starting the game by going back ten years to buy Bitcoin

Shen Ruolan pressed down with her index finger.

The left mouse button clicked crisply, almost too lightly. But the force of that click was so great that the entire silver market shook.

Fifteen accounts simultaneously executed liquidation orders.

The holdings on the screen started to drop from 26 billion, with the numbers jumping one after another.

Chen Hao's ten fingers flew across the keyboard, rapidly placing orders in batches. Lin Jie stared at the trading volume on the order book, his lips chapped, he licked them, and didn't bother to drink water. Zhang Xiaoyan and Su Jie, one on each side, were at the data terminal, entering the price, quantity, and timestamp of each transaction into the spreadsheet in real time.

Meng Yinuo sat at the risk control terminal, her hands resting on either side of the keyboard, her eyes bouncing back and forth between the screen and Shen Ruolan.

five minutes.

The first batch of positions has been closed out.

ten minutes.

The second batch.

Silver prices fluctuated wildly around $72. Their sell orders were immediately absorbed by the market, but the rest remained on the order book, waiting for buyers to take them bite by bite.

Twenty minutes later, the last closing order was executed.

The number of positions on the screen has dropped to zero.

The floating profit and loss columns for the fifteen accounts switched from a fluctuating state to a static state. The numbers stopped.

Chen Hao lifted his hand from the keyboard, froze in the air for two seconds, and then slowly placed it on his thigh.

Shen Ruolan stared at the number in the upper left corner of the screen.

Profit: ¥10,800,000,000.

10.8 billion.

Ten zeros. She counted them twice to make sure she wasn't mistaken.

No one spoke in the living room.

Zhang Xiaoyan's hand rested on the mouse, a thin layer of sweat glistening on her knuckles, making the mouse's matte surface feel slippery. She withdrew her hand, wiped it on her skirt, and put it back—no, the data wasn't finished being verified yet. Verify what? With 10.8 billion yuan laid out before her, what was she verifying?

Su Jie pushed her chair back half a step, her waist hitting the back of the chair, and only then did she realize that her legs were shaking. It wasn't from being tired. It was because that string of numbers was too large, so large that her physiological system reacted first—adrenaline surged, her heart raced, and the microcirculation in her extremities began to become disordered.

She had learned this. It was clearly written in the textbook. But the textbook didn't tell her that when that string of numbers actually appeared in front of her, her tongue would taste bitter.

Lin Jie took off his headphones, stared at the screen, and didn't utter a single word.

Chen Hao turned his head and glanced at Shen Ruolan. Shen Ruolan didn't look at him. She leaned back in her chair, her hands folded in front of the keyboard, letting out most of the breath she had been holding back—she dared not let it all out.

Ten days.

From opening the position to closing it, it took a full ten days.

Silver fell from $120 to $72.

This person—her peripheral vision shifted an inch towards the sofa—this young man in his early twenties, ten days ago when he said "it won't go up," almost made her slam her hand on the table and leave.

Now, 10.8 billion lies in the account.

Shen Ruolan turned her chair around to face Li Yichen.

"Mr. Li."

Li Yichen sat up from the sofa, stretched, raised his arm above his head, and his shoulder joint cracked.

"How many?"

"10.8 billion."

"Um."

One word.

Ok.

Chen Hao turned his head and glanced at Li Yichen's back, his mouth opened and closed. One hundred and eight billion, this guy just grunted in response—that's the reaction you get when you tell him your takeout arrived today.

Li Yichen stood up, walked behind Shen Ruolan, and leaned down to glance at the numbers on the screen.

10.8 billion. Add his principal of 1.3 billion. 12.1 billion.

The number flashed through my mind. The system panel was quietly lit up deep within my consciousness, and the location of the second turning point was clearly visible on the silver price chart—two hours later, silver would rebound from its bottom of $72 and continue upwards.

But before that, there is one more thing.

"Miss Shen."

Shen Ruolan looked up.

"12.1 billion, can we add more leverage?"

Shen Ruolan's back, which had just relaxed, tensed up again.

"Add more?"

"Twenty times."

Shen Ruolan withdrew her hands from the keyboard. She turned her chair around to face Li Yichen.

"Mr. Li, 12.1 billion multiplied by 20 is 242 billion."

When she said the number, her tongue went numb.

"With over 200 billion in open interest, what is the average daily trading volume in the silver market? Such a large amount of capital entering the market is unlikely to be approved by the exchange. The risk control threshold will directly reject the application."

She shook her head.

"It's very difficult. Almost impossible."

Li Yichen rubbed his thumb along the seam of his pants.

Over two hundred billion. That's indeed a huge amount. The system provides a trend chart, not an invincible shield. The larger the amount of capital, the narrower the market's capacity becomes, and slippage and impact costs will eat up a large portion of the profits.

Besides—what if?

If the trend chart provided by the system is inaccurate, even by just one percent, then in a market worth over 200 billion, one percent is more than 2 billion.

Not cost-effective.

"What about ten times?"

Shen Ruolan tapped her fingers twice on the armrest.

"Ten times... 121 billion."

She mentally reviewed the exchange's leverage approval rules and calculated the margin ratio and risk control threshold.

"You can try. With a leverage of ten times, going through an institutional channel and providing proof of funds in the margin account, there's a chance it will be approved. But it's not guaranteed."

"try."

Li Yichen took a step back.

"Try it now."

Shen Ruolan turned back to the screen and placed her fingers on the keyboard.

"Chen Hao, adjust the leverage ratio of all fifteen accounts to ten times and apply through the institutional channel."

"receive."

Chen Hao's fingers started moving on the keyboard, but this time he typed with much less force than before—not because he was afraid, but because his fingers were still trembling, and he was afraid of pressing the wrong keys if he used too much force.

One hour.

For a full hour, none of the people sat up in their chairs.

Chen Hao's neck was stretched forward, his head almost touching the screen. Su Jie's notebook lay open on her lap, not a single page turned, her pen resting on the back of the notebook, not a single word written.

Zhang Xiaoyan stared at the approval status bar. The yellow "Under Review" label had been hanging in front of her for fifty-three minutes, like a stone pressing on her chest.

Fifty-eighth minute.

The screen flickered.

The yellow label has disappeared.

Instead, a green "Passed" message appeared.

Chen Hao's chair slid back a little.

"Passed."

His voice was hoarse—he hadn't spoken for an hour, and his throat was so dry it felt like it was on fire.

"Tenfold leverage approved."

Shen Ruolan refreshed the page to confirm that everything was correct.

Fifteen accounts. Leverage per account: 10.

Total funds: 121 billion.

When the number appeared on the screen, the living room was silent for a full five seconds.

Meng Yinuo sat at the risk control terminal, his hands in his sweatshirt pockets. He looked up from the 121 billion figure on the screen and glanced out the window. The buildings across the Huangpu River gleamed in the sunlight, standing in low rows.

He worked at Rongxin for three years and the largest holding he ever saw was 200 million.

121 billion.

Six hundred and five times.

He pulled his hands out of his pockets. His fingers were trembling. Not from the cold, nor from fear. It was physiological—when faced with something beyond the limits of one's understanding, the body reacts before the brain.

Lin Jie put the earphones back in his ears and stared at the betting odds. His jaw was taut, and his masseter muscles were twitching. He had never dreamed of such a scene.

Li Yichen stood behind Shen Ruolan and glanced at the system panel.

The second inflection point.

Silver will rebound from its low of $72 and continue to rise.

"Establish a position. Go long."

Shen Ruolan turned and glanced at him. Her fingers were already on the keyboard.

"Full position?"

"Full position".

121 billion, all bet on long positions.

Shen Ruolan didn't say another word. Ten days ago, she had questioned it once, only to be proven wrong by the 10.8 billion yuan figure. This time, she chose to remain silent and carry out the order.

"Position building begins."

Six people's hands moved simultaneously. The sound of keyboards clicking was so dense that it became a continuous chorus. More than 100 billion yuan was broken down into countless small orders, which were poured in one by one through the bullish channel.

More than an hour later, the last order was completed.

All long positions have been established.

121 billion.

Li Yichen patted the back of Shen Ruolan's chair.

"For the next eight days, just like last time. Just keep an eye on it, don't touch the mouse."

Shen Ruolan placed her hands on the keyboard and nodded without hesitation.

Chen Hao, who was standing nearby, heard this and his lips twitched slightly—the last time he heard this, he thought the man was crazy, but now? Now he would be happy to kneel and stare for eight days.

Eight days.

Eight more days.

Just like the last round – takeout orders piled up in the corner, coffee cans stacked like a small mountain, and the smell of instant noodle seasoning packets wafting in the air.

But the atmosphere during these eight days was completely different from the previous round.

Last time, when silver prices fell, several people were on edge. Every dollar it dropped made their hearts skip a beat. Although they were on the right track, nobody knew when the rebound would happen, or when that green candlestick would suddenly turn around and surge upwards.

In this round—silver prices are rising.

It started at $72 and climbed all the way up.

Day 1, $75. Day 3, $80. Day 5, $86.

The profits in the account grew thicker and thicker each day, and the numbers became larger and larger.

The group's state shifted from tension to numbness, and from numbness to a strange kind of excitement.

Every morning, the first thing Chen Hao does when he wakes up is check the screen. After checking it, he mentally calculates the commission amount, then goes to the bathroom to wash his face, staring at himself in the mirror for three seconds.

Zhang Xiaoyan started keeping a diary in a notebook. Not a work diary—it was a personal diary. It was very brief, just one line a day. The line for the sixth day read—"Today I earned more money than my entire family has in three generations. If my mom knew, she'd probably faint."

Eighth day.

1:40 PM.

Silver price: $95.

Li Yichen turned around in front of the floor-to-ceiling window and walked to the screen.

The system panel flashed briefly in the depths of my consciousness. On the chart, a red line marked the $95 mark.

The red line points to the right, and the curve begins to turn around.

almost.

"Miss Shen."

Shen Ruolan straightened up from the chair.

"Close out positions. Sell everything."

Shen Ruolan's hand hovered above the mouse, but did not fall.

"Mr. Li," she turned her head. "Silver is currently rising steadily, and trading volume is also increasing. It's not impossible for it to return to the previous high of $120, given this momentum—"

"Sell."

"Let's wait a few more days, maybe then—"

"Sell it now."

Chen Hao nodded slightly twice beside him. Lin Jie also looked up at Shen Ruolan and moved his lips. The others shared a similar sentiment—with the market so good, what's the rush?

Li Yichen put his hands in his pockets and scanned the six faces.

"You all think silver will continue to rise."

He spoke slowly and deliberately.

"Retail investors think it will rise, and so do institutional investors. When everyone believes something can only go up—that's when big capital should step in. They forcefully drive the price down, harvest a crop of retail investors, and take their profits."

He tapped the upward-curving candlestick on the screen.

"If we don't sell now, this trend will reverse tomorrow. Then, a long position worth 120 billion will be stuck there. Who will come to the rescue?"

No one answered in the living room.

Shen Ruolan stared at him for three seconds. Then she put her hand on the mouse.

"Execute this order. Close all positions."

The hands of all six people moved at the same time.

The clatter of keyboards filled the air, even more frantic and intense than when positions were being established. Over a hundred billion in long positions were being broken up and dumped out through the market's buying channels.

Forty minutes.

The last deal was completed.

The open interest has dropped to zero.

Chen Hao slumped back in his chair, his arms hanging at his sides, his fingers still trembling slightly.

The numbers on the screen froze.

Profit for this round: ¥38,000,000,000.

Three hundred and eighty billion.

Adding the previous round of 10.8 billion, plus the principal of 1.3 billion.

Four hundred and eight billion.

Su Jie's pen rolled off her lap and landed on the floor, spinning halfway around. She didn't bend down to pick it up.

Zhang Xiaoyan covered half her face with her hands, peeking at the string of numbers through her fingers. Four hundred and eighty-eight billion. One percent commission. Four hundred and eighty-eight million. Nearly five hundred million. The number exploded in her mind, shattering into a million zeros that she could never piece back together.

Meng Yinuo stood up, walked to the French windows, turned her back to everyone, put her hands on the windowsill, and her shoulders were shaking.

Shen Ruolan sat in a chair, her hands resting on her knees, her ten fingers interlaced. Her lips were pressed into a thin line.

Five hundred million.

This is money she could never earn in her entire life!

Eighteen days.

She followed this man for eighteen days and earned five hundred million.

Li Yichen looked at these faces and smiled. It was a very slight smile, with the corner of his mouth slightly turned to the right.

Li Yichen knew that the third turning point would occur in two hours, after which silver would plummet from its high of $95.

They took out 12.1 billion and leveraged it tenfold to short sell.

The profit of 38 billion will remain unchanged.

He mentally went through the math. Even if something went wrong and he lost all 12.1 billion, he would still have 38 billion. 38 billion was enough.

But if we win—

"Miss Shen."

Shen Ruolan looked up.

"12.1 billion. Ten times leverage. Short selling."

All six people turned to look at him at the same time.

Shen Ruolan stared at his face for two seconds. She didn't ask why. Last time she shorted, she asked, and was shut down by 10.8 billion. This time she went long, she asked again, and was slapped in the face by 38 billion.

The third time?

She stopped asking.

"Everyone is in position."

Shen Ruolan turned her chair around and placed her fingers on the keyboard.

"Establish a position. Short sell."

A massive short position of 121 billion began to quietly unfold in the silver futures market.

One stroke. Ten strokes. One hundred strokes.

The numbers danced on the screen, quietly and silently, like a giant net slowly unfurling from beneath the water's surface.

Li Yichen raised his wrist and glanced at the Greenwich Mean Time watch on his wrist.

There are 1 hour and 47 minutes left before silver begins its sharp drop.

On the screen, the latest short order has just been executed, and the number has jumped up one position—open interest: 74.2 billion.

Position building progress: 61%.

Chen Hao's fingers hovered above the keyboard, waiting for the next command. His little finger was trembling slightly, the tip less than two millimeters from the key.

Shen Ruolan stood ramrod straight, with a vertical line taut between her shoulder blades.

Outside the window, the sunlight on the Huangpu River was fragmented, shimmering and sparkling.

The number "74.2 billion" on the screen was still jumping up.