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

The rain in New York is cold.

Unlike the sticky rainy season in Hangzhou, the rain here carries the fishy smell of the Atlantic Ocean, and feels like tiny ice shards hitting your face.

Waldorf Astoria Hotel, Midtown Manhattan.

This century-old landmark, which has hosted countless heads of state, is now brightly lit.

The lobby was piled high with boxes of supplies bearing Alibaba's orange logo, and dozens of P8 and P9 executives in formal attire were pacing anxiously on the marble floor.

This is the last 24 hours before the roadshow.

The air was filled with a scent called "anxiety".

Meanwhile, in the executive suite on the 32nd floor, Lin Che was changing his clothes.

He took off his expensive custom-made suit and casually tossed it onto the velvet sofa.

Instead, he wore a dark gray hooded sweatshirt bought in Walmart's discount section, a pair of faded jeans, and a pair of Nike sneakers stained with mud.

The elite image in the mirror vanished instantly.

Instead, there was an Asian international student, a common sight in the city, struggling to make a living.

If you don't look at those eyes.

Those eyes held no trace of the confusion of an international student, only a wolf-like glint.

Lin Che pulled up his hood, covering most of his face.

He glanced at the clock on the wall.

It's 9:30 p.m.

Most of the executives were either jet-lagged or in Jack Ma's room revising the PowerPoint presentation that had already been revised eight hundred times.

This is the best time.

Lin Che pushed open the door, avoided the elevator in the executive lounge, and turned to walk towards the fire escape that only cleaners would use.

"Click".

The sound of the security door closing was swallowed up by the thick carpet.

......

Half an hour later.

A dilapidated yellow taxi stopped in front of a puddle on Canal Street.

This is the heart of Chinatown.

It is also the dirtiest lower abdomen in Manhattan.

Neon signs flickered with an eerie red light in the rain and mist, with the Chinese characters for "massage," "roast meat," and "remittance" overlapping each other.

The air smelled of dead fish and rotten shrimp mixed with cheap laundry detergent.

Lin Che paid in cash and got out of the car.

The rain instantly soaked the shoulders of his hoodie.

With his hands in his pockets and head down, he skillfully navigated two alleyways lined with trash cans.

A mouse scurried past my feet, making a sickening squeaking sound.

He stopped in front of a shop called "Good Luck Laundry".

The roller shutter door was half-drawn down, and the steam engine inside was roaring, with white steam rising from the gaps, carrying a humid heat wave.

Lin Che bent down and crawled inside.

There was only one old man in the shop.

Wearing a faded yellow undershirt, he was ironing a Tang suit that belonged to who-knows-who.

The old man didn't look up; the iron in his hand sizzled.

"do the laundry?"

Money laundering.

Lin Che's voice was very soft, drowned out by the noise of the steam engine, but the old man's hand visibly paused for a moment.

"What color is it?"

"Red comes in, green goes out."

The cuts matched.

The old man finally raised his head. It was a face covered with age spots, and his left eye had a cloudy white film over it.

He is "Old Zhang".

The "white gloves" of underground banks in this area specialize in handling the shady "secret stashes" of money belonging to business owners from mainland China.

"HK-1999".

Lin Che gave the code.

Old Zhang's cloudy eyes rolled around as he looked Lin Che up and down.

"Come with me."

Old Zhang put down the iron and lifted a dirty blue cloth curtain behind it.

There is no washing machine behind the curtain.

There was only a dusty computer and a few money counting machines running at full speed.

"Do you understand the rules?"

Old Zhang pulled out a folding chair, sat down, took out a pack of Zhonghua cigarettes from the drawer, shook out one, and handed it to Lin Che.

Lin Che did not answer.

He took a black Nokia phone out of his pocket and placed it on the table.

"Ten million RMB has already been transferred to the trading company account you specified in China."

Lin Che's voice was steady, as if he were talking about today's weather, "I want to exchange it for US dollars and put it into this offshore account."

He handed over a piece of paper with a string of complicated code written on it.

That was a shell company account he registered in the Cayman Islands.

Old Zhang squinted and glanced at it.

"Things are getting tense right now."

Old Zhang lit a cigarette, took a deep drag, and the pungent smell of cheap tobacco filled the small space. "The commission has gone up. Twenty percent."

20%.

If it's through legitimate channels, it only costs a few per thousand.

This is outright robbery.

But Lin Che didn't even raise an eyebrow.

"Can."

Two words.

There was no bargaining.

Old Zhang was stunned for a moment. He had seen too many shop owners here crying and begging, talking themselves hoarse over a mere fraction of a commission.

But this young man was too straightforward.

The pleasure was so intense that it made him feel a little scared.

"Young man, that's ten million," Old Zhang couldn't help but remind him. "Two million in fees could buy an apartment in Flushing."

"Time is more valuable than money."

Lin Che looked at Lao Zhang's hands as he operated the keyboard. "Hurry up, I'm in a hurry."

Ten minutes later.

A green dialog box popped up on the screen.

Lin Che glanced at the banking app on his phone.

Balance change alert: + $1,312,000.00 USD.

One million three hundred and ten thousand US dollars.

This was his first pot of gold.

This is also the fulcrum he will use to shake the world in the bloody feast on Wall Street.

Lin Che looked at the number, and a crack finally appeared on his usually calm face.

He stretched out his hand.

"Give me one."

Old Zhang threw the cigarette box over.

"Smack."

The lighter's flame flickered in the dim light, illuminating Lin Che's young yet ambitious face.

Inhaling the smoke into the lungs causes a slight feeling of dizziness.

The hand tremors caused by the surge of adrenaline were finally suppressed by nicotine.

Thanks.

Lin Che exhaled a smoke ring, stood up, and pulled up his hood.

"young people."

Just as he was about to step out from behind the curtain, Old Zhang suddenly spoke.

"Your money is clean, but your eyes..."

Old Zhang paused for a moment, then stubbed out his cigarette.

"It's even darker than the sewers in Chinatown."

Lin Che didn't stop walking.

"In this world."

His voice drifted from the steam, "Only dirty money can wash away a clean future."

......

One o'clock in the morning.

The rain stopped.

When Lin Che returned to the Waldorf Hotel, his hoodie was soaked with sweat.

He deliberately took off his hoodie next to the trash can by the back door and threw it in.

Inside was a clean shirt.

He transformed back into the glamorous Alibaba P7.

As soon as he entered the lobby, he saw someone.

Mr. Ma.

This man, who is about to become China's richest man, is sitting alone in a corner of the lobby bar.

A cup of untouched Longjing tea sat before me.

His brows were furrowed, and his highly recognizable face was filled with deep fatigue and anxiety.

All the media outlets are reporting on Alibaba's grand occasion.

Only Lin Che knew that Ali was like a giant wearing a magnificent robe, but underneath the robe were lice.

The mobile traffic crisis hangs like a sword over Jack Ma's head.

Lin Che originally intended to go straight upstairs.

But he stopped.

This is an opportunity.

An opportunity to plant the seed of "savior" in the boss's mind beforehand.

Lin Che straightened his cuffs and walked over.

"Mr. Ma, still not resting?"

Jack Ma raised his head.

Upon seeing Lin Che, a hint of surprise flashed in his eyes, which quickly turned into a sense of relief at seeing one of his own.

"I can't sleep."

Jack Ma sighed, pointed to the sofa opposite him, and said, "Sit down."

Lin Che sat down.

"Are you worried about tomorrow's roadshow?"

"Those guys at Goldman Sachs have a nose that's sharper than a dog's."

Jack Ma rubbed his temples, his voice a little hoarse, "They don't care about our ecosystem, they don't care about our vision. They only focus on one statistic and ask: Why is the monetization rate on mobile only one-third of that on PC?"

This is Alibaba's Achilles' heel.

At this point in time, the user experience of Taobao on mobile was still terrible, and users had not yet developed the habit of using it. Most people would just browse on their phones and then go back to their computers to place orders.

"If you talk to them about ideals or the future, they won't understand."

Lin Che waved to the waiter and ordered a glass of ice water.

"Oh?" Jack Ma looked at him. "Then what do you think they can understand?"

Lin Che picked up the ice water and took a sip.

The cold liquid slid down his esophagus into his stomach, making him even more alert.

He looked at Jack Ma with intense gaze.

"greedy."

Lin Che put down his glass, which made a crisp sound on the table.

"Mr. Ma, Wall Street has no need for tears, nor for dreams."

"They just need you to tell them one thing: even if it's a pile of shit, Alibaba can package it as gold and sell it."

Jack Ma was stunned.

He never expected that this product manager, who usually seemed so gentle and refined, would say something so vulgar yet so to the point.

"How can you prove it?" Jack Ma leaned forward slightly.

Lin Che smiled.

That was the hunter's smile when he saw his prey fall into the net.

"I've prepared a small gift for the analysts tomorrow."

Lin Che's voice was very low, as if he were sharing a dangerous secret.

"A gift that allows their greed to overcome their reason."

Jack Ma stared at Lin Che for a full five seconds.

Then, his tightly furrowed brows slowly relaxed.

"Lin Che".

"Um?"

"If you mess this up tomorrow, I'll personally throw you out of this building."

"What if I win?"

"Then I'll hand you a parachute."

Jack Ma smiled.

That was his signature smile, full of cunning and domineering.

......

The next morning.

Waldorf Astoria Ballroom.

The enormous crystal chandelier cast a golden glow, making the place look like a palace.

Hundreds of fund managers and analysts, dressed in expensive suits, were crammed into the audience like sardines.

Their Blackberry phones were flashing wildly, and their eyes were filled with hunger.

That was a thirst for wealth.

And in the very middle of the first row.

An elderly white man with gray hair was holding a red pen and drawing a circle on the roster in his hand.

That was Mark Baum, Goldman Sachs' chief analyst, known as the "Chinese stock killer."

The names circled by him usually die on the podium.

And this time...

The red circle was placed precisely over one of the names on the list:

Lin Che (Product Expert)

Lin Che stood in the shadows of the curtain, looking at the red circle.

He straightened his tie and touched the USB drive in his pocket containing the account information for $130 million.

That's his source of confidence.

"bring it on."

He silently recited it in his heart.

"Let's see who kills whom."