The sad adventures of a crazy bull

[Jin Yan/For China Daily]

If you really want to know how someone ticks, get them to put some money into the stock market. The way they ride the waves, reacting to the ups and downs, will give you an insight into the way they think, and whether they are serious investors or plain old gamblers.

In recent months China's stock market has gone crazy after more than seven years of stagnancy, and the Shanghai index rose to a record high of 5,178 points on June 12. And when you have a crazy market, you are obviously going to have crazy traders.

With the help of smart phones, many people, especially the 20-something generation, have jumped into the market. I have seen one figure that suggests about 1 in 11 Chinese adults has some kind of shareholding. But if you need any further proof of how pervasive the culture of the stock market has become in the country, just observe and listen to the conversation going on everywhere, from the street corner to the restaurant table, replete with its ups, downs, trends and yields.

In fact, even I, someone who knows little about such matters, began to receive stock market advice from friends, relatives and workmates. Suddenly it seemed everyone was an expert, and the technical jargon was as free-flowing as the advice they were dispensing.

Some recommended shares they owned. During a family gathering in Shanghai in early April, my cousins argued about the rising market. When I finally confessed that I owned no shares, I could sense their disdain.

"These days even if you are totally stupid you can make money on shares," one of them said.

Back in Beijing, the mood among my friends about stocks and shares was just as frenetic, and the ebullient mood of any of them was a sure sign that the bulls were on the run. In the days when the market soared, the pitch of excitement in their voices seemed to rise correspondingly.

One day－and the next day, and the next－a friend told me excitedly: "My shares have risen again－by 10 percent."

Over those days a smile of triumphant, satisfied euphoria never seemed to leave his face. One day he announced that he had handed over a 100,000 yuan ($16,100) shares windfall to his wife. When he told me he did margin trading for only one share with 380,000 yuan, he might as well have been speaking Latvian. He helpfully explained that in margin trading you borrow money from a brokerage firm to double your capital sum.

"That must be incredibly risky," I said. "Stop doing it."

But my worries left him undeterred.

"I'm betting the bulls will keep running," he said.

Sure enough, the bulls did just that－until late June, when he despondently announced: "The market fell 10 percent today."

Since then the bulls he had pinned so much faith on have been in retreat. In fact his shares dropped by about 10 percent a day for the next 11 days, notwithstanding his prayerful, and possibly tearful, intercession to get them to go the other way.

The brokerage asked him to put more money into his account to avoid it blowing out. He then started to borrow money from his sisters instead of his wife, saying he felt guilt and shame about asking her for money.

At that point his ill-fortune became the canary in the coal mine for his friends, a token of how bad the stock market was doing. They urged him to get out of the market while he could and avoid his account falling into default. But he would not be persuaded.

July 11, a day on which his shares fell for the 11th consecutive day, was bleak for him.

"That day was dreadfully long," he said.

If he could not put more money into his account it would be in default and he would lose everything he had invested. The Shanghai index closed at 3,877 points, and many had suffered great losses. For him the question now became: "Shall I just let go?"

"I felt so grateful to my wife," he said. She gave him the money he needed before the stock market opened on July 12, the day that the central government stepped in to rescue the market. As with the market, his shares stopped plunging.

His relief was palpable.

"Are you going to leave the market?" I asked. "No, absolutely not. "I'll wait for it to rebound."

He is still doing margin trading, but has reduced his capital by half. It seems the euphoria of knowing he has managed to survive has wiped out the memory of the pain he went through as his shares plunged.

Don't get me wrong. I have nothing against investing prudently, and there is nothing wrong in using a little spare money to make a bit of profit through quality shares. But that is greatly different to nursing dreams－or delusions－of becoming rich overnight.

Perhaps I am old fashioned, but I have a sneaking feeling that in the Chinese saying "Big problems loom for those who have big fortunes" there is more than a grain of truth.