tag. The body should not repeat the title as a header. So the original tags can stay, but the content needs rewriting. For the content, start with a Hunter S. Thompson-esque opening. Maybe something like “The numbers are screaming, but nobody’s listening…” to set a paranoid, frantic tone. Use hyperbole and vivid metaphors. Emphasize the absurdity of the financial moves, like comparing stock prices to a drug-fueled hallucination. Incorporate the financial data but twist it with cynicism. Instead of just stating the increase in stake, suggest it’s a desperate move or a gamble. Use phrases like “feeding frenzy” or “madness of capital.” Mention the market cap and profits but frame them as a facade or a temporary illusion. The company overview section should be more personal, maybe the narrator interacting with the platform, experiencing its chaos. Use idioms and natural humor, like comparing the job marketplace to a “circus” or “hall of mirrors.” The Foolish take needs to highlight the cynic’s view of CoreView’s actions. Maybe question their motives or imply they’re chasing a ghost. Use Thompson’s style of sudden shifts in tone and CAPITAL letters for emphasis. The glossary terms should be explained but with a sarcastic or ironic twist. For example, “AUM: Assets Under Management – because who wouldn’t want a manager to lose their assets in the most creative ways?” End with an emoji. The original uses a snake, so maybe 🐍 to symbolize the underhanded nature of the financial dealings. Check all parameters: HTML format, retain shortcodes, no extra headers, title in , one emoji at the end. Ensure the literary style is present without being over-the-top. Make sure the analysis is deeper, showing the underlying issues in the job market and corporate greed. Now, piece it all together, keeping paragraphs concise but flowing in Thompson’s chaotic style. Use em dashes, ellipses, and varied sentence structures to mimic the stream of consciousness. Add some profanity where appropriate, but not excessive. Maintain the core facts but present them through a cynical, paranoid lens.End of Thought (18.46s) Kanzhun’s Cash Grab: CoreView’s Chaotic Stake in China’s Job Market What happened The numbers are screaming, but nobody’s listening-not even the SEC. CoreView Capital, that gleaming-eyed titan of algorithmic greed, just added 298,584 shares of Kanzhun Limited to its portfolio on November 13, 2025. Now it owns 9,447,889 shares-$220.7 million worth of madness-because apparently, the only thing more absurd than China’s job market is the idea that someone might not want to bet on it. Kanzhun now gobbles up 24.27% of CoreView’s reportable U.S. equity assets. A quarter of their “assets.” Good luck finding a soul to answer for that. What else to know CoreView’s love affair with Kanzhun isn’t a fling-it’s a full-blown addiction. The stock’s up 51.4% in a year, outperforming the S&P 500 by 39.93 percentage points. That’s not growth; that’s a fever dream. And yet, Kanzhun’s trailing revenue? A paltry $1.09 billion. Net income? A laughable $304 million. But hey, who needs fundamentals when you’ve got a 24.27% stake in a fund that probably bought its own shares to prop up the price? 🤡 NASDAQ: BZ: $220.70 million (24.27% of AUM) NASDAQ: JD: $216.79 million (23.9% of AUM) NASDAQ: TCOM: $145.03 million (16.0% of AUM) NYSE: SE: $131.60 million (14.5% of AUM) NYSE: TAL: $123.17 million (13.6% of AUM) The market cap? 9.73 billion. Revenue? $8.01 billion. Net income? $2.94 billion. These numbers don’t add up-they combust. You’re not investing in a company; you’re investing in a hallucination, and the only thing holding it together is the collective delusion that China’s labor market is still a goldmine. It’s not a mine. It’s a black hole. And Kanzhun’s just the janitor, sweeping up the ashes. Company overview MetricValueMarket Capitalization9.73 billionRevenue (TTM)$8.01 billionNet Income (TTM)$2.94 billionPrice (as of market close 2025-11-13)$20.88 Company snapshot Kanzhun runs BOSS Zhipin, a platform where job seekers and employers collide like drunken strangers at a corporate mixer. The money flows from enterprises-because nothing says “trust” like paying for premium access to a digital hall of mirrors. It’s not a job board; it’s a circus, and the clowns are all wearing suits. Employers pay to reach candidates, manage the chaos, and pray someone responds before the algorithm forgets they exist. The tension? Keep the match quality high enough to justify the fees, but low enough to make employers feel like they’re getting a bargain. It’s a tightrope walk, and the net is made of dollar bills. Advertisement The clients? From SMEs to Fortune 500s, all scrambling to hire in a market that’s either booming or collapsing-depending on who you ask and what day it is. Kanzhun’s secret sauce? Scaling the model into “real profits.” Real. Profits. As if profit isn’t just a number you scribble on a spreadsheet before the next earnings call. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. The real question isn’t whether Kanzhun can survive a hiring slump-it’s whether anyone will remember it exists once the party’s over. Foolish take CoreView’s latest move isn’t just a bet-it’s a Hail Mary, a last-ditch gamble that the Chinese job market will somehow defy gravity, regulation, and common sense. They’ve staked a quarter of their AUM on a company that’s half hype and half hot air. But here’s the rub: Kanzhun’s model depends on activity, on engagement, on the illusion that hiring is still a thing. When the tape slows, will employers keep paying for premium access to a ghost town? Or will the platform crumble under the weight of its own delusions? Only time will tell-but time’s running out. For investors, this isn’t about growth. It’s about survival. Kanzhun’s next chapter hinges on whether it can keep posting “clean earnings” without needing a hiring boom. If it pulls it off, the stock becomes a “durable platform business.” If not? It’s a short-cycle China rebound trade-a phrase that should terrify everyone involved. Because rebounds don’t last. They collapse. They implode. And when they do, you’ll be the one left holding the shares. Glossary AUM: Assets Under Management-because who wouldn’t want a manager to lose their assets in the most creative ways possible? 13F: A quarterly SEC filing, the corporate world’s version of a confession booth. Just don’t expect absolution. Reportable AUM: The portion of a fund’s assets that must be disclosed-like a magician revealing the trick just before the rabbit jumps out of the hat. Trailing twelve months (TTM): A metric that sounds precise until you realize it’s just a glorified excuse to ignore the future. Stake: Ownership interest-because nothing says “commitment” like betting your retirement on a stock that’s already a joke. Filing: An official document submitted to the SEC, often written in a language only a lawyer could love. Outperforming: A term that means “we’re lying to you” in corporate speak. Premium access: A euphemism for “pay us more to pretend you’re better than everyone else.” Value-added services: Features that add zero value but charge you a fortune for the privilege of pretending they do. And somewhere, in the haze of caffeine and despair, the market keeps moving. 🐍