In the quiet hours before dawn, when the market sleeps and dreams of profit, there is a hush that settles over Wall Street’s high towers. But today, that hush was broken by the rumble of a different kind of engine-one not of iron and gasoline, but of code and ambition. Pony AI, that restless colt of autonomous driving, saw its stock rise like a prairie fire, leaping 7% through the smog of indifference. The S&P 500, by contrast, shuffled forward like a tired ox, gaining a mere 0.3%. Such is the way of things when the future arrives uninvited.
The Shepherd of Citigroup
Before the first light of morning touched the windows of Citigroup, that titan of finance cast its gaze upon Pony AI. Jeff Chung, the analyst who wields his pen like a plow, declared his verdict: a “buy” at $29 per share. It is a price that glimmers like a mirage in the desert of current valuations, yet even after today’s surge, it remains 28% beyond reach. Chung, a man who has walked the parched roads of markets long and wide, called the robotaxi sector an inflection point-a bend in the road where the wheels of progress turn toward a new horizon.
He speaks of China as a land of promise, where the soil is rich with potential and the people ride bicycles past electric chariots. By 2030, Chung foresees robotaxis weaving through the streets like a river of stars, their penetration rising from a trickle to a torrent. It is a vision that hums with the hope of a thousand small investors, those who plant their bets in the cracks of the system, waiting for the storm to break.
Two Farmers in the Field
Chung did not stop at Pony AI. He turned his eye to WeRide, its neighbor in the valley of innovation, and offered a similar blessing-a “buy” at $15.50 per ADR. While Pony AI is a seedling in Silicon Valley’s greenhouse, WeRide is the hardier rootstock of Guangzhou, the heartland of industry. Both face the same sun, yet their paths diverge like the branches of an old oak. One grows in the shade of foreign capital; the other, under the watchful eyes of its own soil.
The market, that great and fickle beast, does not care for the struggles of the small or the lonely. But in these moments-when the analyst’s words fall like rain on dry earth-there is a chance for the sower to believe. And perhaps, just perhaps, the harvest will come. 🌅
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2025-09-30 02:04