Feng Zhiyao went to the company several times in the past few days, but still came up empty-handed. It was as if the people there had forgotten him overnight and avoided him like the plague. His former friends either became like strangers or made sarcastic remarks. In just a few days, he saw what the world was really like.
As night fell, the streets of the bustling area were still filled with sports cars, but unfortunately, he was nowhere to be seen. But who cared?
It's like those lavish banquets that continue unabated, regardless of who leaves or stays.
Feng Zhiyao wanted to seek justice, but he didn't have enough money to continue. A few days later, he had no choice but to find a job as a restaurant waiter, which included room and board and paid HK$1,800 a month. He also thought about applying for a clerical job or other respectable jobs.
However, none of these jobs included room and board, and he only had a diploma and no work experience. He went for several interviews but no one wanted him.
He got along well with the people in the restaurant because they had seen him in the newspaper before. He was often ridiculed and laughed at, and had earned the nickname "Young Master".
In South Africa, Lu Feng is still waiting for news. He has been in contact with some high-level figures in the past two days. The implication they conveyed is that the United States is willing to take this opportunity to strengthen cooperation between the two countries, and what they can offer is something that a single company cannot provide.
Lu Feng repeatedly told them not to trust Americans, as it was common for those people to have no say. He also said that he could increase his investment in South Africa in the future, and at the same time, he would try to promote closer business ties between China and South Africa.
But these words seemed so insignificant to the other party, after all, Lu Feng was just an ordinary businessman.
In Europe, at the futures exchange, everyone was astonished by the tungsten ore price. For several days in a row, tungsten ore prices continued to rise, surging towards the $80,000 mark, a price comparable to gold.
John stared in disbelief at the numbers displayed on the computer screen in the Schroders Group's conference room. Several executives stood by, wide-eyed. The price of $80,000 per ton was beyond their comprehension.
"They were all funded by the Quantum Foundation. What are they trying to do?"
"We've already made a profit of 5 billion this time, right? With prices driven up so high, are they going to run away?"
The expressions on everyone's faces were grave. John felt it was unlikely; the tungsten mines in South Africa had not yet resumed operations, and they would not be able to deliver the products by the due date.
After thinking it over, John could only think of one possibility: the South African tungsten mine was about to resume operations, and they had already confirmed it. With that in mind, John looked at the screen in front of him and said, "Call Lu Feng."
Meanwhile, on Wall Street, Soros flipped through the documents in his hand, whispered a few questions to the manager next to him, closed the folder, and ordered, "Let's try selling a portion."
The next moment, a large number of tungsten ore futures contracts, which had not been traded for a long time, were dumped on the London futures market, and the price immediately began to fall. In an instant, everyone stared wide-eyed, as if the Tungsten King might be coming to an end today.
"Sell! Sell!" someone shouted nervously in the Schroders trading room.
John looked grim and asked the person next to him, "Did you get through to Lu Feng on the phone?"
"The call hasn't been connected yet."
The price of tungsten ore has fallen from $80,000 to $76,000 and is still falling. The selling pressure above is very heavy, and most people simply cannot withstand it.
When Robertson saw Soros selling off, he immediately joined in, instantly increasing market pressure. Retail investors holding futures contracts fled, afraid to participate in the battle, fearing that a sudden market crash could ruin them.
In South Africa, at 11 p.m., Lu Feng had already gone to bed. The meetings of the past few days had left him feeling extremely tired and helpless. He vaguely heard his phone ringing, struggled to wake up, and after a long while fumbling for his phone, he answered, "Who is this?"
"Mr. Lu, Mr. John wants to speak with you." The person on the other end of the phone sounded very anxious. A few seconds later, the phone was handed to John, who immediately began asking about the situation at the South African tungsten mine.
Lu Feng turned on the bedside lamp, leaned against the headboard, and recounted the recent events, saying, "All I can tell you is that I've done my best; the rest is up to God."
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com
