On the fourth day of the stock market crash, Zhou Qingfeng was still holed up in Old Lady Grey's countryside villa, like a refuge from the world ravaged by a storm.
Apart from driving to the nearby supermarket to bring back enough food for half a month, he barely moved, like a hibernating bear, deliberately distancing himself from the chaos outside.
Because outside was too chaotic, the situation was changing too fast, extremely turbulent, and entirely unpredictable.
In four days, the two major indices on Wall Street had triggered circuit breakers twice, with the indices fluctuating like the final struggles of a dying person, and the plunging curves were as steep as cracks on a cliff edge.
On social media, retail investors were like trapped beasts, desperately emitting shrill howls.
Someone posted a screenshot of a zeroed-out account, with the red "-98%" number on the screen like a sharp knife piercing the heart.
