Hong Kong variety show: The mastermind behind the scenes is emerging.

June 10th, New York.

The summers on Wall Street are unbearably hot and humid. The leaves of the old oak tree in front of the stock exchange are curled up by the sun, and the Stars and Stripes on the NYSE building hang limply on the flagpole, too lazy to even flutter.

At 10 a.m., a burgundy Rolls-Royce Silver Spur turned from Broadway onto Wall Street, followed by two black Mercedes-Benzes.

This time, the protagonist's convoy did not stop at Trinity Church, but instead turned directly into the Channing Capital Building in the middle of Wall Street.

Martin Channing and his entourage were already waiting on the steps outside the gate. He was wearing a dark blue Blaise suit with light gray trousers, and his pocket square was folded meticulously.

Behind him stood two vice presidents and a chief strategist, each holding a heavy stack of folders. Their usually arrogant and serious faces now all wore a hint of cautious flattery.

A short while later, the Rolls-Royce came to a stop.

The female lead got out of the car first, wearing a black suit dress and sunglasses that covered half of her face; Cheng Yiyan followed behind, wearing a light gray suit and carrying a leather briefcase.

Finally, Lu Chen gracefully stepped out of the car under the protection of Tian Yangsheng.

"Oh, my dear Lu, it's scorching hot today!" Martin quickly stepped forward and enthusiastically extended his hand. "The weather forecast said it was 31 degrees Celsius in Manhattan, but I feel like the asphalt is melting."

"There's nothing we can do. No matter where you are, the weather forecast never seems to be accurate," Lu Chen shook hands with him, then looked up at the entrance of Qianning Capital. "Let's go inside and talk."

"I'll follow your instructions!" Martin shrugged and respectfully led the group into the company.

The second-floor conference room wasn't large, but it was very soundproof. The floor-to-ceiling windows faced the back wall of the NYSE, and you could see traders smoking in the fire escape.

Coffee and bottled water were already laid out on the conference table, and the whiteboard was covered with dozens of charts that he had his analysts compile over the course of a week—the S&P 500 chart, the Nasdaq volume bar chart, the Chicago Board Options Exchange volatility index curve, and dense handwritten annotations.

The TV in the corner was playing CNBC's midday financial news on silent. The presenter's mouth opened and closed on the screen, and the scrolling text at the bottom read: "The Dow Jones Industrial Average fell slightly by 0.3% today, but market sentiment remains optimistic."

"Lu, you're practically a legendary mysterious Eastern wizard!" Martin said, placing a report in front of Lu Chen. "Following your instructions, we conducted a detailed analysis of the stock market over the past three months—the conclusion is very clear: the market is severely overheated."

"The S&P 500's average price-to-earnings ratio has broken through the 20 mark, and the first quarter's trade deficit far exceeded expectations, widening by nearly 40% compared to the same period last year. This long bull market in US stocks started in the summer of 1982, and it's been a full five years now, accumulating a considerable bubble!" Martin turned to the next page of the report. "According to our model calculations, the market will inevitably experience a large-scale crash by the end of September this year at the latest!"

Cheng Yiyan took the report, flipped through it, and didn't say anything.

Lu Chen leaned back in his chair, picked up his coffee, and took a sip: "It seems you did a lot of research after you went back last time. But you're still being conservative; this is definitely not some ordinary collapse."

Martin was taken aback: "What?"

"What I mean is, it will be a stock market crash no less severe than Black Friday of 1929," Lu Chen put down his coffee cup. "At that time, the Dow Jones Industrial Average will at least drop by 20 percent in a single day."

As soon as he finished speaking, the conference room fell into a deathly silence.

Martin stood blankly in front of the whiteboard, twirling the black marker between his fingers twice before it fell to the table with a "thud," and he even forgot to reach out and pick it up.

The sound of keyboards clicking in the trading hall seemed particularly distant, coming through the glass wall.

"Lu," Martin adjusted his glasses, lowering his voice by half an octave, "even the most pessimistic short-selling trader wouldn't dare make such a prediction—because if it came true, the entire Wall Street would go bankrupt!"

"That's not the case. At most, half of them will go out of business," Lu Chen stood up, walked to the whiteboard, picked up another red marker, and said, "Martin, I need you to do two things next."

"First, start building short positions this week. Don't go naked short; instead, buy deep out-of-the-money put options."

Upon hearing this, Martin's pupils dilated slightly.

Deep out-of-the-money put options are put contracts with a strike price significantly lower than the current market index level. These options are only forcibly exercised and realized during a devastating market crash.

In today's bull market, these options are practically worthless, like scrap paper, because no trader thinks they're even worth using.

But if the market really collapses, its extremely high leverage effect can instantly turn millions of US dollars into billions in a short period of time!

"The position building will be done in three batches," Lu Chen circled three place names on the whiteboard with a red pen: "Chicago Mercantile Exchange, London International Financial Futures Exchange, and Tokyo Financial Futures Exchange. The trading volume of each batch should be kept below the threshold that will not trigger the exchange's abnormal fluctuation monitoring. The dates should be staggered, and the underlying assets should be diversified. We should not let any clearing bank know that someone is accumulating put options in a concentrated manner."

He turned to Cheng Yiyan: "You're in charge of fund allocation; funds will be sent from the Cayman Islands and received in Switzerland."

"Don't worry." Cheng Yiyan pushed up his gold-rimmed glasses, nodded, and quickly took out a small notebook from his briefcase to take notes.

"Second," Lu Chen shifted his gaze back to Martin, "sell off all the tech stocks that are overvalued. Intel, IBM, Compaq, Oracle—no matter how much unrealized profit they have now, sell them all by the end of the month."

"All of them?" Martin couldn't help but take a half step forward.

"all."

Martin opened his mouth as if to say something. After all, Intel and IBM were the two largest holdings in his portfolio, both with unrealized gains exceeding forty percent. But seeing Lu Chen's gaze, he ultimately swallowed his words.

In the years he worked for Lu Chen, every time he felt that his boss might be exaggerating, it turned out that his boss was actually underestimating the situation.

"Understood, I'll arrange it immediately," Martin said, bowing his head.

"Very good. Remember, you must keep it a secret." Lu Chen stood up, buttoned up his suit jacket, and said, "Just watch, this October, we'll have a great harvest."

"Don't worry, I'm an expert at keeping secrets," Martin said, raising an eyebrow smugly. After all, having run a Ponzi scheme all along, he would have been finished long ago if his information management hadn't been so effective.

"Boss, I'll hand over the programmed position-building process to you by tomorrow morning at the latest, and I guarantee that all option accounts will be opened within three days." Cheng Yiyan closed his notebook, his tone filled with confidence in his expertise.

"Very good. You two can discuss and implement the specific plan. I just need the results." Lu Chen flicked the hem of his suit jacket and turned to walk towards the conference room door.

Seeing that Lu Chen was leaving after only ten minutes, Martin couldn't help but ask in surprise, "Lu, are you leaving already? Where are you going?"

……

Pushing open the doors of Channing Capital, the scorching heat of Wall Street surged back in.

The streets remained bustling and noisy. Traders stared intently at their screens in the trading hall, CNBC's scrolling headlines kept updating positive news, and yellow taxis honked their horns frantically in the middle of the road.

No one realized what would happen three months later.

No one knew that the Intel and IBM stocks they held, the S&P 500 index funds, and the tech stocks that were rising a little bit every day in this hot summer—these lucrative assets that were making them a fortune—would soon turn into a raging fire that burned the entire Wall Street to ashes.

Reaching the car, Tian Yangsheng quickly opened the door. Lu Chen got into the back seat and instructed the woman next to him, "Make a reservation at a restaurant for me."

Ba Wanghua skillfully took out her cell phone from her briefcase: "Which one?"

"Lutèce".

This is a famous French restaurant on East 50th Street in Manhattan. Its head chef, André Soltner, was once called "the greatest living French chef" by The New York Times.

This restaurant has fewer than twenty tables and usually requires reservations at least a week in advance.

But as the chief secretary of the Jiahe Group, Ba Wanghua naturally had her own connections. After making two phone calls, she booked a table in less than three minutes.

"It's booked, noon, second floor, window seat, for two." She closed her phone, glanced at Lu Chen, and asked, "Boss, who are you inviting?"

Lu Chen leaned back in the back seat, watching the Wall Street scene outside the car window slowly transform into the boutique windows on both sides of Fifth Avenue.

"An old friend."