Chen Shuisheng, fifty-eight years old, an old retail investor, died in front of the computer.
Open your eyes and go back to the age of eighteen, the summer of 1995.
They know which stocks will rise and which stocks will fall in the next thirty years.
Squatting in front of the sales department to watch the excitement, someone asked him if he knew anything about stocks.
He said: I understand a little bit.
A year later, there was a rumor all over Shenyang that there was a little kid who made money on everything he bought.
He said: I am just lucky, as if I am lucky.
No one believed it.
He didn't believe it himself.
Because only he knows——
This matter is really fucking deceptive.
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(Text style: Northeastern chatter, don't pretend, don't pretend. Just like the old man next to you who lost half his life in the stock market and suddenly had a good fortune, bragging to you.)
