Chapter 249: This Time, I'm Here

By 1993, Shanghai hadn't yet achieved the prosperity it would later be known for. Riding in a taxi, Li Xian looked at the city's limited number of buildings, none of which were very tall. The old streets and alleys, with bamboo poles hanging women's bras and various clothes, and bicycles filling the roads, filled the air with the exhaust of partially burned fuel from motorcycle engines. He couldn't help but feel deeply disappointed.

Thinking to himself that the city was crude, Li Xian laughed at himself for expecting too much. Comparing the thriving city of two decades later to what he saw now wasn't fair or meaningful.

It was already afternoon when they arrived in Shanghai. After settling in at a hotel near the Shanghai Stock Exchange with Xu Maohe and others, night had fallen. Although he was anxious about the possibility that Baoan Group might have already started their acquisition of Yanzhong Industrial, there was nothing he could do about it at that moment.

After dinner, Li Xian and Xu Maohe left their exhausted crew behind and wandered around near the stock exchange with Wang Tiecheng to familiarize themselves with the surroundings.

"Damn it."

By eight o'clock, the stock exchange had already closed. Standing in front of the building, Xu Maohe looked at the large neon sign, his eyes hazy, and he cursed.

"Last spring, a friend called me to Shanghai, saying there was a big business opportunity. But at that time, I was in Russia, being conned by Liu Changqing, and I missed it."

"What big business?" Li Xian asked knowingly, unable to suppress a smile.

"Subscription warrants!" Xu Maohe said, standing in front of the stock exchange's doors, thumping his chest in frustration. "They were only thirty-something yuan each back then! Damn it, even though I didn't have much money at the time, I could've scraped together ten or twenty thousand. If it weren't for Liu Changqing, I would've…"

At this, Li Xian burst into laughter.

Subscription warrants were a unique, era-defining product in the history of Chinese stocks. They first appeared at this very stock exchange. In 1992, a year after the Shanghai Stock Exchange was established, there were only eight stocks in the entire market. Faced with a fledgling stock market, the supply of stocks was woefully inadequate, leading to a situation where there was demand but little supply.

When a new stock was issued by Xinye Real Estate, crowds of stockholders gathered at the Jiangwan Sports Stadium days in advance, almost causing a deadly stampede. To cope with the situation of ten or more new stocks set to be issued in 1992, the People's Bank of China, which managed the stock market, came up with a compromise: they would first issue subscription warrants, and holders could then participate in a lottery to win the right to purchase shares.

This subscription warrant represented a qualification, much like a concert ticket nowadays. Initially, people thought that with so many applicants and the slim chances of winning, it wasn't worth it.

But unexpectedly, within two months of the subscription warrant's issuance, those in the know got wind that the number of stocks to be issued in 1992 would greatly increase, and the chances of winning were far higher than anticipated.

In this context, the black market for subscription warrants took off. The price of these warrants, initially just a few dozen yuan, skyrocketed to over ten thousand yuan at its peak.

A set of one hundred consecutive subscription warrants could yield a profit of around 500,000 yuan.

In 1992, 500,000 yuan was an astronomical figure—comparable to having a house, a car, and savings of two to three hundred thousand in 2018.

The emergence of subscription warrants marked the first time that Chinese people personally experienced the frenzy generated by the stock market. It also left a permanent scar on many investors who missed the opportunity.

However, when these warrants were first issued, even most stockholders didn't see their potential, let alone someone as ignorant about stocks as Xu Maohe.

So, Li Xian found his friend's chest-thumping to be more about a missed opportunity, blaming societal conditions rather than his own ignorance.

Typical "blame the world for my misfortune" behavior.

"Brother Xu, be honest with yourself—if Liu Changqing hadn't conned you, would you really have come to Shanghai? Did you even know what subscription warrants were at that time?"

Xu Maohe was taken aback, replaying Li Xian's words in his mind, his face turning red.

But being stubborn, he retorted, "Well, you never know, maybe if… maybe if…"

Li Xian waved his hand dismissively, smiling, "No more 'what ifs.' What's past is past. Let's focus on the present."

In truth, Li Xian also felt regret—not for failing to buy subscription warrants earlier but for not traveling back in time sooner. If he had returned in early 1992, there would have been no need to deal in walnuts, coffins, or exterior tiles. He could've just rushed to Shanghai and bought a batch of subscription warrants.

Looking at the tightly shut doors of the stock exchange, Li Xian smiled helplessly.

Well, even though he missed out on the "fortune certificates," at least he caught the Yanzhong Industrial opportunity, right?

This time, I'm here.

...

Before coming to Shanghai, Li Xian had already explained his plan to Xu Maohe.

The plan was simple, almost laughably so: target Yanzhong Industrial, buy in at a low price, and sell off after Baoan formally takes over Yanzhong in October.

Li Xian was a complete novice in the stock market.

Twenty years later, the domestic stock market wasn't friendly to someone like him—a young man with a monthly allowance of only 600 yuan and a family income of less than 100,000 yuan. In fact, society as a whole wasn't kind to people like him. As a result, Li Xian had never paid attention to the stock market. He only occasionally saw fragmented articles and stock-related knowledge in libraries or on some influential public accounts.

So this time, Li Xian had to rely on his knowledge of key events during the Bao-Yan dispute. And even with this knowledge, he needed a platform to help him execute his plan.

The so-called platform was a securities trading office.

When the Shanghai Stock Exchange was first established, it implemented a T+1 trading system, meaning stocks bought on one day could only be sold the next, with a 1% price limit mechanism. But this mechanism was too stable, leading to a sharp decline in trading volume, so in 1993, it was changed to a T+0 system. This allowed unrestricted buying and selling of stocks within a single day, with no limit on price fluctuations.

This new system significantly increased activity in the secondary stock market. As market activity grew, it gave rise to numerous service providers.

Securities trading offices were one such service provider.

In 1993, trading offices were still very basic, essentially serving as agents, offering information, venues, and computer equipment to clients and completing transactions on their behalf. They earned profits by taking a commission from each transaction.

That was all there was to it.

Li Xian and Xu Maohe walked around the area near the stock exchange and found several such offices.

Based on the current conditions, it seemed that most trading offices offered similar services and functions. Given the large amount of money they brought with them, Li Xian knew it was essential to carefully compare the commission rates. He jotted down the contact details of several nearby offices and planned to contact them the next morning to make a selection.

"Alright, Xianzi, this should be enough. We've brought so much money; we'll be treated like royalty wherever we go. What's the point of noting down so many?"

Having traveled all day, Xu Maohe was exhausted. Seeing that they were getting farther from the hotel, he started complaining.

Seeing that they had noted down information from seven or eight offices, Li Xian agreed it was enough.

Just as they were about to head back to the hotel, they suddenly heard crying from above.

Although the area around the stock exchange wasn't exactly remote, by 10 p.m., the streets were nearly deserted. The sound of sobbing, like the mournful cry of a wandering soul in the countryside at midnight, was particularly chilling.

"Damn! What's that sound? My skin's crawling! Ah!"

The sudden sob startled Xu Maohe, who hugged his arms and looked up.

What he saw made his heart skip a beat.

They were standing beside a four-story department store, and there, on the third-floor balcony, was a woman in a black pencil skirt and high heels, wearing a white short-sleeved shirt. She was gazing up at the moon, wiping away tears.

"Miss, don't jump!"

Seeing this, Xu Maohe's eyes widened. He ran a few steps closer to the department store entrance and shouted up to the woman.

The cry echoed through the empty night, startling the woman on the balcony.

"I'm not trying to jump!"

With a scream, the woman lost her balance and fell from the third floor!