The richest man started taking advantage of loopholes after joining Alibaba.

March, New York.

JFK Airport Terminal 1.

The wind carried the damp chill of the Atlantic Ocean.

The sky was grayish-white, with low-hanging clouds.

The automatic door slid open.

Li Mo walked at the front.

Zegna dark gray suit, tie impeccably tailored.

Even though there was no sun indoors, he was still wearing Ray-Ban sunglasses.

He doesn't look like a high-level internet executive; he looks like a second-tier celebrity who just got off a plane.

Behind him were the public relations director, the finance director, and several core P9s.

The group walked out of the arrival gate.

Two gleaming black stretch Lincolns were parked in the VIP lane.

The driver, wearing white gloves, opened the car door.

The car was bathed in warm yellow light, with Evian water and crystal champagne glasses.

"Mr. Li, please." The CFO gestured.

Li Mo nodded, but didn't move his feet.

He turned around and looked at the end of the line through his sunglasses.

There was a Ford Transit van parked there.

The car body was covered in mud, and there was a noticeable scratch on the rear bumper.

The rear cargo door was open, and the interior was filled with airline crates and packed roll-up banners.

Lin Che stood beside the truck.

He was wearing a black T-shirt with the words "Logistics Support" printed on it and dragging a huge black suitcase.

Li Mo waved.

Lin Che put down the lever and walked over.

"Mr. Li."

Li Mo didn't say anything, but took out a folded sheet of printing paper from his handbag.

Without even glancing at Lin Che, he flicked his wrist backward.

The paper fluttered to the ground.

The wind blew the paper across the sand and gravel, and it glided for a while before stopping at Lin Che's feet.

"Tomorrow's materials list."

Li Mo's voice was cold, carrying the air of someone in a superior position: "The roll-up banners, brochures, investor commemorative figurines, and the confirmation letter for tomorrow's breakfast meeting menu are all here."

The PR director standing next to him chuckled softly.

Li Mo glanced at Lin Che through the top of his sunglasses: "If you're missing one thing, buy yourself a plane ticket and get back to China. The company doesn't keep useless people."

I took the hot towel the driver offered, wiped my hands, and climbed into the warm Lincoln.

"Bang."

The car door closed.

It isolated the noise, but also the social classes.

The two luxury cars started moving, their taillights casting two red lines.

Lin Che bent down and picked up the dusty printed paper.

The paper was densely packed with dozens of items, including "spare pens." It was all for the sake of making things complicated.

Lin Che brushed the dust off the paper, his face showing neither anger nor humiliation.

Li Mo is very considerate.

If you ride in a Lincoln, you have to smile the whole time and listen to the executives brag.

Now look what happened, Li Mo threw him onto the truck.

He has an hour and a half to go from now until he arrives at the hotel.

Hey buddy!

A Black head popped out of the truck's cab, wearing huge headphones and a thick gold chain. "Hurry up! We're going to be late!"

Lin Che stuffed the list into his pocket and turned to walk toward the truck.

He lifted a 30-kilogram airline case with one hand, his arm muscles bulging, and slammed it into the carriage.

The movements were skillful and powerful.

"Here we are." Lin Che jumped into the passenger seat.

The car door closed.

It smells like stale leather and cheap tobacco.

……

The Ford Transit exited the airport expressway and merged into the traffic.

The train carriage was filled with deafening rap music.

The driver, Mike, was a seasoned pro; he nodded in rhythm and recklessly overtook other vehicles.

"Listen, buddy," Mike yelled, trying to drown out the music, "Even though you guys are from that... Alibaba group, I'm only responsible for delivering the goods to the Waldorf. If you want to smoke or go to the bathroom, that's a different story."

Lin Che didn't speak.

He took out his wallet and pulled out a green banknote.

Benjamin Franklin's portrait stood out prominently in the dimly lit carriage.

Mike was still nodding, his eyes glued to the paper out of the corner of his eye.

The music stopped abruptly. Mike turned off the stereo.

"Where to?" Mike's voice was much gentler.

"Franklin Avenue," Lynch said in fluent English. "Solomon Law Firm, stop for thirty minutes."

Mike frowned: "We're taking a detour. Parking is difficult in that area, and if we get a ticket..."

Lin Che drew another Franklin card.

Two hundred US dollars.

Two days' wages for a blue-collar worker.

"Besides," Lin Che stuffed the money into Mike's hand, patted the greasy steering wheel, "this truck has been on the road the whole time, never been anywhere, understand?"

Mike flashed a bright white grin and stuffed the money into his breast pocket: "You're the boss, you say where we go, we go. Want to take a dump on top of the Statue of Liberty? I'll drive you up there."

He turned the steering wheel sharply.

The Ford Transit veered off the main road and plunged into the intricate streets of Midtown Manhattan.

Lin Che looked at his watch.

Fifteen forty.

Less than an hour before the market closes.

Strip.

Cheap T-shirts were thrown at the feet.

Inside was a crisp white shirt with a clean collar. It was a little wrinkled, but that didn't affect the overall quality.

Looking in the rearview mirror, I buttoned my collar and ran my fingers through my messy hair.

The timid and submissive P7 disappeared.

Instead, there are now traders with cold, stern eyes.

……

Solomon Partners, Midtown Manhattan.

The heart of money.

The aroma of expensive freshly ground coffee, a premium scent.

The conference room overlooks Central Park.

David Solomon adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses.

Jewish elite lawyers: shrewd, trustworthy.

With enough money, even God's will can be drafted.

A thick stack of legal documents lay spread out on the table.

"Mr. Lin, this is the registration certificate of 'Weiguang Capital' in the Cayman Islands."

David pushed the document over, "The offshore structure is complete, with multiple layers of nesting, making the source of funds difficult to trace. Unless the FBI gets involved, no one knows that this money belongs to an ordinary employee of Alibaba in China."

Lin Che didn't speak.

I picked up a pen and quickly flipped through the pages.

The muscle memory of a former chief compliance officer.

Reading is extremely fast; the focus is only on the "funds custody path," "tax exemption clauses," and "ultimate beneficiary declaration."

Confirmed.

"Shh shh shh".

The pen tip glides across the paper, leaving a sharp signature.

"Interactive Brokers institutional channel?" Lin Che put down his pen.

"Activated." David turned the computer screen. "Tencent's initial payment, plus personal funds, after deducting fees, the available balance is..."

On the screen, green numbers are flashing.

3,015,200.00 USD

Three million US dollars.

It's a huge sum of money in the country.

On Wall Street, it's just an admission ticket.

"Transfer all in." Lin Che tapped his fingers on the mahogany table. "Target: Yahoo, Operation: Short."

David's hand stopped in mid-air.

Short selling?

Out of professional habit, David cautioned, "Mr. Lin, I'm only responsible for execution, but I must remind you that Alibaba is about to hold its roadshow, market sentiment is high, Yahoo holds 24% of Alibaba's shares, the higher Alibaba's valuation, the higher Yahoo's stock will rise, shorting at this time... is too risky."

Wall Street consensus.

The consensus reached by Li Mo and Alibaba's senior management.

The whole world is waiting for Alibaba to go public, and for Yahoo to get a piece of the pie.

Lin Che looked at David, his eyes calm.

"David".

Lin Che leaned forward, exuding an overwhelming sense of pressure. "I'm paying you $800 an hour for professional service, not investment advice."

David's Adam's apple bobbed.

The young man's eyes were unsettling.

It's not the gambler's madness, but the hunter's coldness as he watches his prey fall into the net.

"Double the leverage."

Lin Che held up four fingers. "Full stock, execute immediately."

David stopped talking nonsense.

Hands flew across the keyboard.

Lin Che leaned back in his chair, looking out at the Manhattan skyline.

Under the gray clouds, skyscrapers resembled a steel forest.

Burying dreams breeds greed.

He knew what would happen tomorrow.

The 80-page short-selling report from Muddy Waters Research is already in the drafts folder.

The core allegations target Yahoo's accounting treatment of Alibaba's assets.

Precision sniping.

Alibaba's roadshow has begun, and Muddy Waters will bite Yahoo's throat like a mad dog.

Market panic led to a sell-off by investors.

Yahoo's stock price will plummet by 15 percent within 48 hours.

This is the information gap.

For the reborn, it's not gambling, it's robbery.

"Order completed."

David's voice broke the silence, "Average price: $37.50, Mr. Lin. Good luck."

Lin Che stood up and straightened his collar.

I don't believe in luck.

He turned and walked towards the door, his back straight. "I believe in the rules."

……

5:30 p.m.

The back-of-house entrance of the Waldorf Astoria Hotel.

The small door through which waiters and cleaners pass. The doorknob is still polished to a shine.

The Ford Transit braked suddenly to a stop, the sound of the brakes screeching.

The car door opened.

Lin Che jumped out of the car.

He then put a crumpled black T-shirt over the white shirt.

His hair was a mess, and there was some dust on his forehead from under the car.

He looked utterly disheveled, like a hapless person who had just experienced a nightmare traffic jam.

"Why are you so late?"

Li Mo stood in the smoking area, a freshly lit cigar between his fingers.

I changed into a more formal evening suit, and my hair was styled with hair wax and kept neatly in place.

I had a good rest.

Li Mo frowned and looked Lin Che up and down: "You crawled over? Look at you, you look like a refugee."

Lin Che immediately put on a fearful expression.

He hurried to the back of the car, unloaded the boxes, and said breathlessly, "I'm so sorry, Mr. Li... The roads in New York are so winding, and I'm a new driver. I got lost in Queens..."

"Alright."

Li Mo waved his hand dismissively, "Stop making excuses. Hurry up and move the materials into the banquet hall. All the roll-up banners must be in place by eight o'clock tomorrow morning."

Take a puff of a cigar and exhale bluish-gray smoke.

The smoke sprayed onto Lin Che's face.

"Also," Li Mo pointed to a hot dog stand by the roadside, "take care of your own dinner. There are Goldman Sachs partners tonight, so it's not appropriate for you to show up. Don't loiter around the banquet hall and embarrass the company."

"Okay, Mr. Li."

Lin Che lowered his head, his voice respectful.

Li Mo snorted and turned to walk towards the revolving door. His entourage of executives surrounded him, fawning over him like stars around the moon.

In their eyes, Lin Che was just a consumable.

Dispose of after use.

A cold wind swirled fallen leaves, blowing through the empty logistics entrance.

Lin Che stood beside the cart, watching Li Mo's figure disappear.

My phone vibrated in my pocket.

Securities trading software push notification.

Lin Che put down the box and took out his phone. The screen's faint light illuminated his dusty face.

[Trading Alert: Short position confirmed]

[Target: Yahoo!]

Average opening price: $37.50

Position size: 4x leverage (fully invested)

With a principal of three million and leverage of four times, the position holds twelve million US dollars.

The first bullet.

If Muddy Waters' report is released tomorrow, every point Yahoo drops will generate an additional $120,000 in profit for my account.

Lin Che turned off the screen and put his phone back in his pocket.

Look up and see the Waldorf's magnificent golden sign.

Ashamed?

No, Mr. Li.

Did you think I was here to move boxes?

I'm here to take over this city.

Lin Che pushed the cart. The wheels rumbled as they rolled across the ground.

Like a tank driving into battle.

Step by step, they walked toward the door that was open to the rich.

The hunt begins.