Chapter 124: The Victor Claims the Throne, the Vanquished Are Outlaws
“Forget it!” Old Tan sneered, laughing as he scolded, “You haven’t even taken a good look at yourself—how could someone like you deserve that meal?”
He shot Zhuang Chen a cheeky grin. “If anyone’s going, it’s gotta be handsome guys like me and Brother Zhuang—good looks, good at what we do, and not much talk, right?”
The room erupted in laughter, glasses clinking together. Old Tan set his cigar aside, stood up, and poured red wine for Zhuang Chen. “Today, we invited you here to get to know Brother Zhuang a bit, share some of your success stories. That way, if we ever get the chance to collaborate, we’ll already have a solid understanding.”
Old Li slowly straightened up. No one was a fool; for the proud and high-standing Mr. Tan to be so eager, this young man before them must have an extraordinary background.
He sighed deeply. “I still remember the summer of 2006, when the stock market was blazing hot. But my industrial investments failed, my girlfriend left me, and I was penniless—everything reset to zero. That day, stepping out of the sunlit Pudong Airport, the theme song from ‘Emperor Wu’—‘The Final Confession’—played in the car, and tears streamed down endlessly…”
“Maybe it was ignorance. Despite my humble origins, without ample capital or the halo of a star fund manager, my current partners and I still came together. Luck smiled upon us when we met an angel investor and founded Summit Private Equity, starting from scratch!”
“We never had bottles of Lafite priced at tens of thousands, nor did we rub shoulders with the legendary tycoons who command the market with a wave of their hand. No decadent parties or scenes of excess…”
“No mysterious figures who only left nicknames and phone numbers on business cards, smiling enigmatically at the corner of their lips…”
“No experts who could casually pull several daily limit-ups. Everything began quietly and humbly…”
“I remember meeting our first client. I hesitated for a long time but decided to save money while maintaining dignity by squeezing into a standard double room at a near four-star hotel. The meeting went smoothly; we shared the same values and investment philosophy, and the client quickly agreed to cooperate.”
“Then came a client visit to our office. Everyone was more panicked than excited because our office was far from presentable. At first, we crammed into a study as our workspace. Later, we moved and rented a temporary office for three months, hastily recruiting a few graduate school classmates as researchers to fill seats.”
“In the end, the client never came. Looking back, it all seemed like a child’s game of make-believe…”
“Then we settled into a 30-square-meter, unstarred office building, neighbors to a bunch of shell companies that started their days shouting slogans. What stuck with me most was the elevator that would creak and jerk every time you rode it.”
“In 2008, we were still in that building but upgraded to a 50-square-meter room. Four of us, counting cockroaches while fiercely tapping through countless research reports—that was our daily morning routine.”
“At the end of 2008, we expanded to 150 square meters, hired more staff, six people total. Though still rudimentary, we finally had the courage to meet clients at our office.”
“By National Day 2009, we moved into a 300-square-meter, five-star, Grade A office building. Ten of us quietly nestled among sharply dressed white-collar workers, filled with pride. In 2012, we even rented the adjacent space, totaling 600 square meters for 20 people—a comfortable environment that stirred grand ambitions.”
Li Yajun drained his glass of red wine and sighed, “When we first moved offices, I sat on the conference room windowsill, smoking, gazing at the dazzling lights of Lujiazui, feeling deeply that I had finally made it ashore.”
Zhuang Chen listened quietly. Life was never easy for anyone. He had met many successful people, all of whom had endured bitter struggles. Society judged only by success or failure; once triumphant, past hardships became tales of admiration. But when failure struck, one was left to endure in obscurity—no one cared about the struggles of a loser.
“If you talk about private equity, capital is the biggest challenge, especially without a flashy background,” Li Yajun said seriously. “From the first meeting through countless negotiations, to finally raising real money to launch a fund—it’s a long process that makes you want to give up often.”
“Especially after regulations demanded full transparency, coordinating every detail took even longer—sometimes three to six months if things moved fast, six to twelve if slow. Take the Summit Stable Fund Phase One, founded in November 2012—it took a full year from research to product launch.”
“Two months spent facing over 300 financial advisors, 100 direct clients, and more than twenty meetings and roadshows before finally succeeding. Even today, I sometimes think the lineups to buy public funds back in 2007 were just an illusion.”
“Every time I met with banks and brokers, I felt a strange mix of relief and dread. Even failure had closure. But I knew that was just the beginning, not the end—another round was always coming.”
“We always thought we were so clever and unique in front of banks, but they’d been lobbied countless times by groups of bespectacled, semi-casual businessmen with even better backgrounds!”
“Looking back, I admire how they never showed fatigue or disdain, patiently waiting for us to finish speaking each time…”
“Foreign hedge funds typically charge a standard 2% management fee and 20% performance fee. It’s rare to see even lower fixed fees or backend charges. But when private equity funds launched domestically, banks slashed the fixed fees to unbelievable lows and imposed a harsh 20% backend fee, while we took 50%—it was outrageous!”
“Our strategy was full transparency, building capital channels through mainstream banks. Since we had no dedicated sales staff, all colleagues had to pitch in personally. We spent over 200 days a year on the road. I used to feel suffocated the moment the airplane door closed, even suspecting I had claustrophobia.”
“In 2009, the company’s marketing slogan was: ‘Buy Summit’s products or die!’”
“Imagine yourself as a feared titan—when meeting big shots, silently repeat three times in your mind: ‘Don’t treat him like a human.’ Then, stand before the mirror, hypnotizing yourself: ‘You already have a net worth of a billion!’”
With a long sigh, he added helplessly, “Over the years, I’ve experienced days dancing my way to work and tasted the terrifying consequences of huge losses. When stocks rose, I’d count how many Porsches I earned that day. When they fell, I’d lie awake all night in fear.”
“Picking the right stock felt like standing atop the world with unmatched confidence. Pick the wrong one, and you’re overwhelmed by a sense of failure, wondering why you’re so unlucky to peak at 48 yuan.”
“Wearing a suit and carrying a notebook, I wandered through meetings at brokers. Without institutional clients or invitations, I had to sneak into sessions. Many presentations on macroeconomics or strategy were either overly poetic or obscure.”
“Industry and company talks were either bland and generic or completely unfamiliar. Without acquaintances, I felt awkward initiating conversations and could only retreat to the bathroom for a smoke, pretending to be busy when I had nothing to do.”
“In 2008, I was thrilled to be invited to a one-on-one event by a broker—something I’d never qualified for before. Though the company wasn’t of interest, I prepared all night and talked their ears off for over two hours. Later I realized the so-called one-on-one was just because few attended; I was there merely to fill seats.”
Old Tan laughed heartily, mocking, “Actually, broker events are quite colorful. While the rumored private jets might be a myth, there are yachts, sports, dinners, concerts, Tai Chi, games, movies—even Texas Hold’em poker was once an event before gambling was officially banned.”
“So the truth is simple: you’re just way too low-level!”
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