Chapter 10: Market Manipulation
The study felt different after dark.
During the day, it was a showcase. At night, with the city lights painting the ceiling in a faint, electric glow, it became an operating theatre. The untouched books on the shelves were mere shadows, their spines unreadable. The only real light came from a bank of four large, hyper-defined screens that had ascended silently from within Zhang Jun’s desk, bathing the room in a cold, liquid blue.
Li Wei stood in the center of the room, the fine linen clothes from the morning feeling absurdly fragile. Chen Lin was adjusting a piece of equipment beside the desk. It wasn’t a chair from the university library. It was a sculpted seat of matte black leather and polished steel, with adjustable arms and rests.
“This is a bit much for a tutoring session,” Li Wei said, aiming for lightness. His voice hit the quiet room and fell flat.
“Practical application requires the proper environment,” Chen Lin said without looking up. His fingers tested a buckle. It made no sound. “The Peninsula was observation. This is… calibration.”
Zhang Jun stood before the screens, profiles of light etching his sharp features. Streaming data flowed in relentless ribbons: currency pairs, commodity futures, obscure ticker symbols Li Wei didn’t recognize. The numbers were a silent, frantic river.
“Come here, Li Wei,” Zhang Jun said, his eyes still on the data.
Li Wei walked over. The leather of the chair was cool when the back of his legs brushed it.
“The lesson today bridges both disciplines,” Zhang Jun began, his tone that of a lecturer. “Pleasure and finance are both about predicting and influencing volatility. A spike in heart rate, a sudden intake of breath, a tremble… these are like a flash movement in an illiquid market. They represent a shift in internal equilibrium. They are pure, unguarded data.”
He finally turned. His gaze was appraising. “Your assignment is to not have an assignment. You are to feel. My assignment is to trade on the sincerity of your reactions.”
Li Wei’s mouth went dry. “Trade?”
“Chen Lin.” Zhang Jun gave a slight nod.
Chen Lin’s hand was on Li Wei’s shoulder, guiding him firmly down into the chair. It was ergonomically contoured, holding him in place. Before he could process the act, Chen Lin was fastening a wide, padded strap across his thighs. Another, softer restraint secured his upper arms to the chair. The assistant’s movements were swift, methodical, devoid of任何情绪. It was like being secured into a luxury vehicle.
“What are you doing?” The question leaked out, tinged with a fear he hated.
“Ensuring clean data,” Chen Lin murmured, his head close to Li Wei’s as he checked a clasp. “Involuntary movement introduces noise. This minimizes it.” He stepped back, his job complete. Li Wei was held, but not painfully. The restraint was a shocking, humiliating certainty.
Zhang Jun approached. He held a small, wireless earpiece. He fitted it gently into Li Wei’s right ear. “You’ll hear my voice. And the market feed. Just relax.”
Relax. The word was a surreal joke. Zhang Jun then tapped the screen of a tablet. On the arms of the chair, small, platinum-colored pads, cool and smooth, extended and made contact with the bare skin of Li Wei’s inner wrists. A faint, almost imperceptible static hum kissed his nerves.
“Bio-metric link,” Zhang Jun explained, watching Li Wei’s face. “Heart rate, galvanic skin response, pupil dilation via the ceiling monitor. It feeds the analysis suite. Now, watch the main screen.”
The leftmost screen changed. A complex graph appeared, with a steady, green baseline. Superimposed over it were three pulsing, faint lines: one blue, one yellow, one red. “You,” Zhang Jun said, pointing. “In real time. Blue is cardiovascular. Yellow is electrodermal. Red is a synthesized arousal index.”
Li Wei stared at his own physiology rendered as abstract art. It was a violation so profound it felt cold.
Zhang Jun took his position at the desk, fingers resting on a sleek, multi-key keyboard. “We begin. Chen Lin, the account is live?”
“Live and isolated, sir. One million in the experimental pool. Illiquid derivatives basket, as you specified.”
“Good.” Zhang Jun didn’t look away from Li Wei. “The rules are simple, Li Wei. I am going to touch you. My goal is to edge you towards climax, but not to give it to you. A study in sustained, peak volatility. Simultaneously, I will be executing trades based on the amplitude and character of your reactions. A sharp spike may trigger a buy in a volatile cryptocurrency. A sustained plateau may guide a short position on a slipping bond. Your body,” he said, a faint, professional smile on his lips, “will be my most valuable analyst.”
He didn’t wait for a response. His hands, warm and sure, settled on Li Wei’s shoulders, thumbs pressing into the tense muscles. On the screen, the blue line jogged upwards. A small, discrete tone sounded from Zhang Jun’s terminal.
“Ah,” Zhang Jun said, his eyes flicking to a different screen. “A minor fluctuation. Let’s test the correlation.” His fingers typed a brief command. “A small, aggressive put option on Telvax semiconductors. They’ve had a stable week. The market expects calm.”
His hands moved, sliding down Li Wei’s chest, over the linen. The touch was deliberate, exploring. Li Wei clenched his jaw, trying to force his body into stillness, to starve the data. He stared at a fossil in a display case across the room.
A low, traitorous sound escaped him as Zhang Jun’s palm slid lower. The red line on the screen shivered and leapt.
Another tone, this one sharper. Zhang Jun typed again, faster. “And there’s the spike. Buying volatile contracts on Indonesian palm oil futures. Speculative. High risk.” He leaned in, his breath hot against Li Wei’s neck. “You see? It’s not arbitrary. Your sincerity gives the trade its conviction. You can’t fake this data.”
The next hour was a dismantling. Zhang Jun’s hands and mouth were instruments of relentless, calibrated stimulation, stopped always at the precipice. Li Wei fought, he truly did, biting his lip until he tasted copper, trying to think of textbook equations, of his voided transcript. But the body, wired and monitored, betrayed him endlessly. Every hitched breath, every stifled moan, every frantic pull against the silent leather straps was logged, graphed, and converted into financial action.
Chen Lin observed it all, occasionally murmuring updates. “Arousal index reaching sustained threshold, correlating with rising volume in the chosen derivatives. The algorithm is pairing well.”
“It’s learning his signature,” Zhang Jun replied, his voice slightly strained with focus. He was between Li Wei’s legs now, the intimacy grotesque under the clinical lights. Li Wei threw his head back, a choked gasp torn from him. The red line screamed towards the top of the graph.
Zhang Jun stopped instantly, pulling away. The sudden absence was a new kind of agony. On his desk, a cascade of rapid-fire tones chimed like a deranged music box.
“Excellent,” Zhang Jun breathed, his eyes blazing at the trading screens. “A cascade reaction. Selling the Telvax position, shorting the palm oil, and a significant long bet on… yes, water rights in a drought-stricken Australian basin. Contrarian. Beautiful.” He looked at Li Wei, whose chest was heaving, skin sheened with sweat. “You just made eighty-thousand dollars in forty seconds. More than your professors make in a year.”
The words slithered into Li Wei’s brain, colliding with the raw, screaming need in his body. The humiliation was total, but it was now fused with a horrifying, glittering comprehension. He was no longer just a body in a chair. He was a instrument. A catalyst. His every unwilled tremor echoed in some unseen market, moving digital mountains of money.
Zhang Jun saw the understanding dawn in his wet, hazy eyes. He smiled, a real one this time. He leaned close again, his lips beside the earpiece.
“Lesson concluded,” he whispered, his voice the only thing Li Wei could hear. “Your final grade for today is currently up… let’s see… one hundred and twelve thousand dollars. An A+, by any measure.”
He straightened up, nodding to Chen Lin. “Unlock him.”
As Chen Lin approached to unfasten the straps, Li Wei’s eyes remained glued to the screens. To the glowing, pulsating lines that were him. The green baseline was gone. The lines now danced in a permanent, elevated state of alert. He couldn’t look away. The data was more honest than he had ever been.