Chapter 223: Prediction Gone Wrong
With how confidently Liu Yue had spoken, everyone around her had been completely reassured.
A few more moments ticked by—and then the market opened.
Liu Yue immediately operated her terminal and placed a buy order for 200 million yuan worth of stock.
All around her, more than a dozen teachers followed suit, going all-in on Yaochi Liquor Holdings. Some invested a modest hundred thousand, others over a million.
Once the purchases were locked in, everyone leaned in close, watching the chart with anticipation.
“Why… is it going down?” someone frowned at the screen, watching the line trend red.
Liu Yue remained calm, smiling confidently. “Small fluctuations. Perfectly normal. It’ll bounce back in no time.”
Her tone calmed the crowd, for now.
But over the next ten minutes, Yaochi Liquor showed no signs of recovery. It continued its steep decline, and before long, it had dropped a full 7%.
“Professor Liu… is this still considered ‘normal fluctuation’?” someone couldn’t help asking again, their voice tight with concern. Liu Yue stared at the graph, and this time—she fell silent.
Things were not going as she’d expected.
Unlike markets in M-Nation, which allow same-day buy-sell operations (T+0), this market was T+1—once you bought in, you were locked in until the next trading day.
For the next half hour, more than a dozen sets of eyes watched in horror as the stock tanked. Eventually, it hit its limit down—trading was frozen.
Everyone turned to Liu Yue with stiff expressions and forced smiles.
Liu Yue felt the heat rising to her face—completely humiliated. “My bad, really. I misjudged it this time. But I promise, next time I find something solid, I’ll let you all know—you’ll earn it back.”
Fortunately, there was a limit to how much a stock could drop in a single day—usually capped at around 10%. And since most of the professors had decent salaries or financial padding, no one was financially ruined. No one blamed Liu Yue out loud.
If anything, she herself had lost the most—a 200 million yuan investment had just evaporated 20 million.
And while she could afford the loss, what really hurt was the damage to her reputation.
This was the worst call she’d made in her career. A stock she thought would soar ended up plummeting into the dirt. Her analysis hadn’t just missed the mark—it had missed the entire dartboard.
Liu Yue felt a wave of dizziness hit her. She quickly opened Weibo.
Her colleagues had been gracious. But online? Behind screens and pseudonyms? She knew better than to expect mercy.
Frantically, she began typing out a post.
Her message had two points:
She openly admitted that her prediction from the night before had been wrong and advised people not to follow that analysis.
She sincerely apologized to anyone who had followed her advice and lost money.
She hit “post” and waited to see the backlash.
Just a few seconds later, the first comment landed.
Peerless Stock God: “Hey Stock Queen, does your face hurt yet?”
Seeing that username, Liu Yue immediately felt her blood pressure spike. But unlike yesterday, she didn’t lash out immediately.
Liu Yue: “Friend, how did you know Yaochi Liquor was going to crash?”
Peerless Stock God: “Call me husband, and I’ll tell you.”
Liu Yue tried to remain composed. “I’m asking you seriously. I really want to discuss the market with you—would you be willing?”
Peerless Stock God: “Why would I give you my secrets for free? You gotta offer something in return.”
Liu Yue scowled. There was no way in hell she’d call him that. But her pride flared up, so she tried a different tactic.
“Let’s be real,” she typed. “You didn’t actually know. You just got lucky. Like a blind cat catching a dead rat.”
Peerless Stock God: “Yep yep. You’re totally right.”
Wang Haoran didn’t even bother playing into it. He wasn’t falling for that bait.
Seeing his flippant response, Liu Yue gave up on pressing further and instead turned back to her new market analysis for tomorrow.
That evening, back at the villa.
As usual, Liu Yue came home to find Sixth Sis reading on the couch, and Seventh Sis clanging away in the kitchen.
Another round of stir-fried noodles.
After yesterday’s culinary failure, Qiu Qianwei’s cooking had improved—marginally. The noodles were still far from delicious, but at least this time they were edible.
To encourage her little sister, both Liu Yue and Ji Shuiyao forced down every bite.
After dinner, Ji Shuiyao returned to her book, and Liu Yue sat down to post her analysis for tomorrow’s market on Weibo.
At the end, she added a cheeky tag:
@PeerlessStockGod – “Wanna test your luck again?”
Qiu Qianwei wandered over, curious. She leaned over and glanced at the screen.
“Fifth Sis, who’s this Peerless Stock God? You even tagged him.”
Liu Yue snorted. “Some online troll. He commented on my analysis yesterday, saying I was wrong—and turns out, I was. So now I’m poking back a little. I asked him how he figured it out, but he refused to say. I still think it was pure dumb luck.”
She gave a wry grin. “So I just posted my thoughts on tomorrow’s trends and tagged him. Let’s see if his so-called luck holds up.”
In a certain male dormitory.
Wang Haoran opened his Weibo and saw the tag notification.
He clicked it immediately and saw Liu Yue’s post. This time, perhaps because of the backlash, Liu Yue didn’t single out a specific stock. Instead, she gave broad predictions for two sectors: pharmaceuticals and food service.
She predicted that the pharmaceutical sector would dip, while food and dining would rise.
Wang Haoran raised a brow. Time to fact-check.
Pulling up his system’s preview of tomorrow’s data, he studied both sectors.
Liu Yue was partially right.
The food service sector would rise overall, with some individual stocks even hitting the daily limit-up. Spot on.
But her prediction for pharma? That was only half-true.
The sector would start sluggish. In fact, it’d remain down until 2:50 PM.
But in the final ten minutes before close, the entire pharmaceutical sector would experience a sudden surge.
Every single stock in the group would rise.
30% of them would hit limit-up, locking in 10% gains.
60% would rise between 3–8%.
The remaining 10%? Still up 1% or more.
Knowing that, Wang Haoran cracked his fingers and typed up a comment under Liu Yue’s latest post:
“Buying stocks from the pharmaceutical and biotech sector tomorrow is like picking money up off the ground.”