The progress bar shot forward.
When the progress bar ran past the original point of failure in mid-October, a miracle occurred.
The net asset value curve, which was supposed to plummet, merely dipped in a minuscule arc on the screen before stabilizing.
As the date continued to advance, the curve lifted its head again, carving out a beautiful trend that, despite some fluctuations, was still breaking upwards overall.
The margin call was averted.
Watching the resurrected net value curve, Xu Qian could barely hold back her tears.
She’d been losing sleep over this backtesting bug, unable to find the cause. Her hair had been falling out in clumps. And now, the problem had been solved so easily—by a sophomore, with a single sentence.
She turned her head, and the look in her eyes as she stared at Su Wei was one of awe, as if looking at some non-human creature.
Su Wei remained seated calmly.
She watched the curve trend upward again without any sign of triumph. She simply stood up and pushed her chair back into place.
"Ten minutes are up."
Su Wei looked at Shen Lan, awaiting the final verdict of their negotiation.
Shen Lan leaned back against her large, black chair. She was no longer looking at the curve; instead, she was studying Su Wei intently.
"You had this all planned out."
Shen Lan’s voice wasn’t loud, a departure from the icy tone she’d used before.
"For the past three months, you didn’t just clean all the public data I gave you. You also memorized my daily market-watching habits, figured out the products and cycles Xu Qian was backtesting, and even had the temporary adjustment notice for the soybean contract ready in your head."
Shen Lan looked into Su Wei’s eyes.
"You were just waiting here, waiting for the perfect moment to come to me with this bargaining chip I desperately needed, to negotiate a raise and demand access."
Su Wei didn’t deny it.
"I just wanted to prove that entrusting me with the real, underlying data is more valuable to you than having me deal with the business school’s assignments."
"Very good."
Shen Lan sat up straight. She wasn’t one for wasting words.
Business was business. Since the other party had demonstrated irreplaceable value, she was willing to offer a reasonable price.
"Your basic stipend is canceled."
Shen Lan looked at Su Wei, her speech becoming brisk and decisive.
"Starting tomorrow, you’ll take over all of Xu Qian’s work: live trading data preprocessing, outlier detection, and data alignment. After the market closes each day, you must guarantee that the factor library required for the next day’s live model is absolutely clean and compliant."
Shen Lan held up one finger.
"For the excess returns generated by the live trading, I’ll give you a 0.5% commission."
Zero-point-five percent.
It sounded like a small amount.
But in the world of Wall Street-level quantitative live trading, this was a figure an ordinary undergraduate wouldn’t even dare to dream of. This wasn’t just a job anymore; this was a true technology buy-in.
In the corner, Xu Qian swallowed hard.
She had worked here for a year, earning only a fixed salary and a few thousand in project bonuses. But Su Wei, in a mere ten-minute negotiation, had secured the right to a commission.
Su Wei’s heart beat half a step faster, but her face still showed no emotional fluctuation.
"Zero-point-five percent."
Su Wei nodded.
"Deal. Thank you, Professor Shen."
"Don’t be so quick to thank me."
Shen Lan pushed the stack of English research papers on the desk—the ones Su Wei had just refused—back toward her.
"The commission is one thing, but you can’t neglect your business school duties. I still want this material by next Monday."
Su Wei glanced down at the stack of papers.
This time, she didn’t refuse. She reached out, took the papers, and held them to her chest.
"Okay. I’ll have them for you on Monday morning."
’Since I’ve already secured my core objective, doing this grunt work is just a matter of a few extra hours. A fair exchange.’
"You can go. Be here at 8:30 tomorrow morning for the handover."
Shen Lan waved her hand, her gaze returning to her six flickering screens.
Su Wei shouldered her backpack, hugged the papers, and turned toward the office door.
As she passed Xu Qian’s workstation, Xu Qian subconsciously shrank back, as if making way for the newly-promoted big shot.
Su Wei didn’t speak, just gave Xu Qian a slight nod as a greeting.
She walked to the door and pressed the handle.
Pushing the door open, warm air from the hallway instantly rushed in, clashing with the cold air of the office.
Su Wei stepped out and gently pulled the door shut behind her.
The hallway was still quiet. Sunlight slanted in from the window at the far end, casting long shadows on the floor.
Su Wei walked to the window and stopped.
She glanced at the thick stack of research papers in her arms, then turned her head to look at the camphor tree outside the window.
’I’m finally no longer an outsider who can only access second-hand public information.’
’Starting tomorrow, I’ll get to touch the real data—the kind that smells of blood, born from the frantic slaughter of the market.’
’It’s a real world, ten thousand times crueler and ten thousand times more captivating than the theories in textbooks.’
Su Wei let out a soft breath.
She stuffed the papers into her backpack, retied her hair, and strode toward the stairwell, her steps steady and sure.
「Inside the office.」
With Su Wei’s departure, the room returned to its oppressive silence.
Xu Qian stared at the empty chair Su Wei had just occupied, dazed for a long moment.
"What are you looking at?"
Shen Lan’s cold voice came from behind the screens.
"You think changing one parameter solves everything? The October margin call is fixed, but have you handled the November contract rollover gap? Have you performed the data smoothing?"
Xu Qian flinched and quickly snapped her gaze back to her own screen, staring at it intently.
"I... I’m on it, Professor. I’ll add the smoothing function right away."
"Su Wei paved the way for you. If the strategy still can’t generate the expected Sharpe ratio, you can pack your things and get out."
The sound of Xu Qian’s typing grew more frantic.
In the bloodless battlefield of finance, there was no room for sentimentality or sluggishness.
Numbers danced wildly across the black screens, everything a brutal preparation for the coming trading day.

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