noveldepot Chapter 1 | Rationality Will Come
Chapter 1 | Rationality Will Come
That year, Faraday Future stood above 400 points.
It's not the kind of price increase that needs explanation.
It's just rising every day, like something that's already been written into the consensus.
Before that, let me first say who he is.
Ethan Chow.
His Chinese name is Cao Yisen.
A Wall Street hedge fund trader, a graduate of New York University.
This resume itself is not unusual.
In Manhattan's financial district, you can easily find people with similar backgrounds in every office building.
What truly makes him memorable is neither his school nor his resume.
Rather, it was his habit when speaking at meetings—
They don't interrupt, don't argue, and rarely raise their voices.
He seemed to be waiting for something to happen.
Let the market make its own mistakes.
In the conference room, Faraday's name was written on the far right of the whiteboard, next to a large arrow.
"Long-term structural growth."
"Global Energy Trends"
"Next-generation platform"
These words are used repeatedly, like some kind of safety mantra.
Ethan Chow sat by the window, his laptop closed, his fingers lightly resting on the edge of the table.
When it was his turn, the partner chairing the meeting paused for a moment.
"Ethan, is your view on Faraday still neutral to bearish?"
"Yes," he said.
The room was silent for a brief second.
Then someone laughed.
It wasn't an obvious mockery, but more like a soft chuckle that he "couldn't help" chuckled.
"You mean, right here?"
The speaker was a very senior PM at the fund, speaking casually, "Don't you think this is a bit... too academic?"
Another person chimed in, as if to lend a hand:
"Moreover, Faraday Future is not a stock that follows a model. It's a stock driven by sentiment and belief."
When he spoke of "faith," his tone was somewhat sarcastic.
Some people remained silent, simply leaning back in their chairs and glancing at Ethan. He recognized that look—
You're smart, but you don't understand how this market really works.
He had seen that kind of gaze far too many times early in his career.
The person chairing the meeting tapped on the table, smiling to ease the tension.
"It's not that you're wrong, Ethan. It's just... it's a bit early to short this now."
"Moreover," he paused, as if choosing a more respectable way of putting it, "the cautious approach used in Asian markets sometimes misses the mark when applied to a US stock market bull run."
This was said very softly, even with a professional gentleness.
But the meaning is clear.
You're too conservative.
Ethan looked up at the whiteboard, then at them.
He did not immediately refute.
If you stay in this industry long enough, you'll know:
People who explain risks are often seen as "disappointing."
He simply turned a page of the document and said:
"I'm not suggesting shorting the market now."
"I will build my position in stages. Very small positions. Just to get to the other side first."
Someone raised an eyebrow: "Are you betting on a pullback?"
Ethan shook his head.
"I'm not betting that it will collapse."
He said calmly, "I'm betting that reason will come back."
After he said that, someone in the conference room finally couldn't help but laugh out loud.
It wasn't malicious.
It's more like an instinctive reaction when a certain default consensus is broken.
"reason?"
The veteran PM shrugged. "Dude, in this market right now, who cares about rationality?"
"If you want to short it, at least wait for a signal."
Ethan nodded: "I will wait."
"What are you waiting for?"
"Wait until it disobeys for the first time."
The meeting continued, and the topic quickly shifted to other targets.
Faraday's page was turned over, but the arrow remained on the whiteboard, like a pre-written answer.
Ethan didn't say anything more.
He knew he had done what he was supposed to do here—
Make your position clear.
The rest can only be left to the market.
That night, he stayed in his office alone until very late.
He reopened Faraday's betting odds, looking at things that others had already stopped caring about:
Are trading volumes starting to become fragmented? Will a larger volume be needed to drive up prices? Is the options chain quietly changing?
At 1:17 a.m., he placed his first short order.
The position is so small it's almost invisible.
But the direction has already been determined.
A few days later, Faraday experienced its first pullback.
The meeting group chat was very lively.
"Normal fluctuations."
"Just a shakeout."
"I'll give you a chance to get on the bus."
That senior PM even made a joke in the group:
"Ethan, isn't it time to admit your mistake?"
Ethan didn't reply.
He simply completed the second short order in the plan.
In the third week, the pullback started to feel "uncomfortable".
It's not a crash, but the kind of crash that gives you hope every day, only to take away a little bit of that hope every day.
Three hundred and seventy.
Three hundred and fifty.
One afternoon, the partner who had mentioned "Asian-style caution" in the meeting walked up to Ethan's workstation and casually asked:
"Are you still inside?"
Ethan didn't look up: "Yes."
The other person paused for a moment, then asked, "...Did you add more?"
Ethan paused for a second and said, "Just finished adding it."
This time, the other person didn't laugh.
The real slap in the face happened on the day the price dropped below 350.
The meeting room was once again filled up unexpectedly.
The arrows on the whiteboard have been erased.
Some people were looking down at their phones, while others were constantly refreshing the market updates.
The person chairing the meeting cleared his throat:
What do you all think of Faraday Future's move?
silence.
A few seconds later, the senior PM spoke, his tone noticeably less relaxed than before:
"Ethan, what's your assessment now?"
All eyes turned to him at the same time.
This time, there was no contempt, no joke.
Ethan looked up and said the same thing again:
"I will proceed with my plan and start reducing my holdings around 300."
"Why not now?"
"Because the panic has just begun."
He paused, then added, "The market hasn't finished paying yet."
A few days later, Faraday reached just over three hundred for the first time.
Ethan closed out most of his positions.
That night, someone posted for the first time in the group:
"...This short selling was really accurate."
Someone added:
"What did Ethan say in the meeting that day? Rationality?"
No one responded.
Later, a saying circulated in the circle:
If you hear Ethan say "rational" at the meeting,
Then you'd better figure out which side you're on first.
When Ethan heard this, he just smiled.
He didn't see it as a victory.
But he could sense it—
That invisible layer of contempt vanished.
Instead, something more dangerous has emerged.
look forward to.
That morning, Ethan Chow had just placed his coffee on his workstation, and before the cup even had a chance to steam, he was called away.
"Ethan."
He turned around and saw an analyst from the front desk quantitative team, someone he rarely interacted with.
"Are you... still inside Faraday's?"
This is not an inquiry, this is a confirmation.
Ethan nodded: "It's still in part."
The other party visibly breathed a sigh of relief, as if they had finally found a common ground in their answers.
"Oh, that's good."
After saying that, he paused for a moment, realizing that what he said sounded a bit strange, and added, "I mean... it's too chaotic right now."
Ethan didn't reply, he just smiled.
He knew that "chaos" was not the point.
The key point is that everyone is starting to not know which side to stand on.
The changes became fully apparent at the afternoon's routine meeting.
Faraday's name was written back in the center of the whiteboard.
There were no arrows, no slogans.
There is only one number: 312.
The partner who chaired the meeting was a beat slower than usual when flipping through the documents.
What are your thoughts on this pullback?
When he said this, he subconsciously looked in Ethan's direction.
It was a very brief glance, yet it was noticed by the entire conference room.
The air fell silent for a moment.
Then, someone cleared their throat and said:
"Ethan, what's your take on this next?"
It's not "Are you still going to persist?"
It's not "Shouldn't you be leaving?"
Yes—what do you think?
Ethan looked up, his gaze lingering between the whiteboard and a few familiar faces.
He had seen those faces at the last meeting.
At the time, their expressions were relaxed, smiling, and even somewhat nonchalant.
It's different now.
They are waiting.
"I will continue to reduce my holdings around 300."
Someone frowned: "Hasn't it already fallen a lot?"
"It has fallen."
Ethan nodded. "But this isn't the peak of the panic yet."
He stood up, walked to the whiteboard, and lightly drew a line at the 300 mark.
"True panic usually doesn't come with such a uniform rebound."
He said, "The current backlash is too polite."
Someone couldn't help but chuckle briefly, a very short, nervous laugh.
"What do you mean?"
"What I mean is," Ethan put down his pen, "that someone else wants to pull the price back down to make themselves look better."
After he finished speaking, the meeting room fell completely silent.
The partner who had previously mentioned "Asian-style caution" leaned back in his chair, remained silent for a few seconds, and then asked:
"What if it stabilizes around 300?"
Ethan looked at him but did not answer immediately.
He knew it wasn't a technical problem, it was a psychological one.
That means the market isn't ready yet.
He said, "But preparing for this takes time in itself."
"how long?"
Ethan thought for a moment: "Not necessarily."
"But if you want certainty right now, you're in the wrong place."
This statement, though lacking in sharpness, conveyed a clear sense of rejection.
When the meeting ended, no one made any more jokes.
Some people walked quickly, while others stayed to continue looking at the pictures.
As Ethan was packing up his computer, he sensed someone standing behind him.
"Ethan."
It's that senior PM.
"Please don't take offense at what I said in the meeting earlier."
Ethan looked up and smiled. "I didn't take it to heart."
This sentence is true.
He never took the disdain in the meetings as a personal attack.
That's just part of the structure.
The other party paused, then asked:
"Do you think... we should listen to your rhythm more?"
This time, Ethan did not answer immediately.
He nodded: "We can discuss it."
It's not "you can do it this way".
It's just that "it's open for discussion."
The other party visibly breathed a sigh of relief.
Over the next few days, his phone started getting very busy.
"What would you do if it rebounds to 330?"
"Are you still keeping the Put part?"
What is your core judgment right now?
These problems have one thing in common—
They have already assumed that he is on the right side.
Ethan still replies very infrequently.
He knew that once you started being treated as the "answer,"
You've taken another step closer to danger.
The real "reversal moment" happened after a news push notification.
A financial media outlet published a short commentary with a rather unremarkable title:
"Some hedge funds positioned themselves short at Faraday Future's high levels in advance."
There are no names in the text.
However, the accompanying image shows the curve from the 400th to the 300th.
Someone left a comment in the comment section:
"Who is it?"
Soon, someone replied:
"Who have you been listening to the most in meetings lately?"
This reply was pushed to the top.
That night, Ethan sat alone in the living room with the financial channel on the TV but no sound.
His name appeared for the first time in the scrolling text at the bottom of the screen:
Ethan Chow, a Wall Street hedge fund trader, graduated from New York University.
It was just a fleeting moment.
But he saw it very clearly.
He turned off the TV, walked to the window, and looked at the dense lights of New York City in the night.
This city rarely acknowledges individuals.
It only recognizes the result.
And now, it's starting to remember him.
My phone vibrated on the table.
It's a short message:
"Will you add more if Faraday Future rebounds next time?"
Ethan did not reply immediately.
He sat for a while before slowly typing:
"We need to see if the rebound is fake."
After sending it, he suddenly realized—
He was already speaking in a "signal" tone.
And this is where all the problems begin.
When people stop asking you "Are you right?"
Instead, they start asking you "What do you think?"
You are no longer just a trader.
You became the yardstick they used to confirm their own position.