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

Waldorf Astoria Hotel, New York.

The presidential suite was temporarily converted into a war room.

The heavy velvet curtains were drawn, blocking out the dazzling night view of Manhattan.

The only sounds in the air were the faint hum of the air conditioner vents and the priceless silence.

At opposite ends of the long conference table sat people from two different worlds.

On the left are Wall Street's top elites.

The Greater China presidents of Goldman Sachs and Morgan Stanley were dressed in suits and ties, their work impeccably done.

On the right is Alibaba's core partner team.

Mr. Ma sat in the middle, with CFO Joseph Tsai on his side.

And Lin Che.

He sat in an inconspicuous spot at the very end.

That position is usually reserved for an assistant who handles meeting discipline.

But he didn't take notes.

He was toying with a Montblanc pen in his hand, the cap flipping deftly between his fingers, making an extremely subtle "click" sound.

The sound was particularly jarring in the deathly silent room.

"Gentlemen."

A representative from Goldman Sachs broke the silence first.

He slid a beautifully bound final pricing proposal down the smooth mahogany table and placed it in front of Mr. Ma.

His movements were elegant, carrying an undeniable professional arrogance.

"Given the current market volatility, and the lingering effects of the Muddy Waters report despite its clarification..."

The other person paused, then adjusted their gold-rimmed glasses.

"We recommend setting the final offering price at $60."

Joseph Tsai frowned slightly.

"This is $8 lower than our roadshow guidance price."

"Mr. Cai, this is for safety reasons."

The Morgan Stanley representative picked up the conversation, his tone carrying that hypocritical "I'm doing this for your own good" attitude.

"Leaving room for price increases so that secondary market investors can make money on the first day is beneficial to Alibaba's long-term reputation. After all, no one wants to see the share price fall below the issue price."

Mr. Ma did not speak.

He rested his hands on his chin, his gaze shifting between the documents and the investment bank representatives.

60 dollars.

This means a reduction of several billion US dollars in financing.

But that's the rule on Wall Street.

They want to get paid, they want to receive kickbacks, and they want to ensure that their VIP clients can enjoy a surge in profits on the first day.

This is what is known as the "unspoken rules".

"What if you don't accept it?"

Mr. Ma asked softly.

"Then we cannot guarantee full allocation of the underwriting." The Goldman Sachs representative spread his hands and shrugged. "The risk is very high, Jack."

Silence again.

A suffocating feeling of being forced into a corner.

Just as Mr. Ma was about to reach for the document.

"Smack."

A crisp sound.

The pen that had been flying between his fingers was slammed heavily onto the table.

Everyone's attention was instantly drawn to it.

The investment bank representatives frowned, their eyes showing a hint of displeasure at being offended.

A P7.

An employee who barely qualifies to sit at the table dares to make a fuss at a negotiation table worth hundreds of billions of dollars.

Lin Che ignored the disdainful looks.

He slowly stood up.

The movements were slow, yet carried a sense of oppression.

He walked around the long table, went straight to the whiteboard, and picked up a black marker.

Remove the pen cap.

The pungent smell of alcohol filled the air.

He wrote a huge number on the whiteboard:

68.

Not a single point less.

Lin Che turned around, leaning against the whiteboard, and casually pointed at the group of Wall Street elites with his marker.

"This...youngster?" The Goldman Sachs representative laughed, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "This is an IPO pricing meeting, not a market haggling. Do you even understand valuation models?"

"I don't understand models."

Lin Che threw the marker back into the pen holder.

"But I understand the stakes."

He took his phone out of his pocket, turned on the screen, and displayed an email he had just received.

"I have already drafted the Series B funding plan for WePinTuan."

Lin Che's voice was calm, as if he were talking about today's weather.

"If Alibaba prices its products below $68, it means the market is underestimating the value of Alibaba's ecosystem."

"So."

He stared at Boss Ma, a cold smile playing on his lips.

"We will immediately announce independent financing, and we will divest all data interfaces with Alibaba and ring the bell on Nasdaq on our own."

boom.

This statement was like a depth charge, exploding in the conference room.

The Goldman Sachs representative's smile froze on his face.

The Morgan Stanley representative sat up abruptly.

Threat.

A naked threat.

If Microgroup, this "growth engine," were to declare independence at this critical juncture, Alibaba's IPO story would become untenable.

The valuation logic will collapse.

It could even cause the IPO to fail.

"Lin Che!"

Joseph Tsai snapped, "Do you know what you're saying?"

"I know."

Lin Che placed his hands on the table, leaned forward, and his eyes burned with ambition.

"I'm helping the company set prices."

"Group buying is Alibaba's moat, and as a moat, it should have a moat price."

"$60? That's like buying cabbage."

"$68 is the price to sell the future."

He picked up the pen again and pointed at the number.

"We want more than just money."

Lin Che surveyed the entire room, his gaze sharp as a knife.

"It is the power to define value."

The entire conference room was deathly silent.

The investment bank representatives looked at each other in bewilderment.

They had never seen such an arrogant employee from the supplier, let alone such a suicidal bargaining chip.

Everyone looked at President Ma.

Awaiting the wrath of this leader.

Mr. Ma stared at Lin Che.

At that moment, his eyes held a complex expression.

There was shock, there was apprehension, but more than anything, there was a sense of... a fleeting glimpse of my younger self.

arrogant.

greedy.

Yet it is terrifyingly accurate.

half an hour.

Mr. Ma made a move.

He reached out and gently closed the document in front of him that suggested $60.

Then push it away.

"Listen to him."

Mr. Ma's voice wasn't loud, but it sounded like a final verdict.

"Priced at $68."

"Jack?" The Goldman Sachs representative jumped to his feet in surprise. "This is against the rules! If it can't be sent out..."

"Then let's switch to a different underwriter."

Mr. Ma interrupted him, his tone becoming extremely firm.

"I trust Lin Che's judgment. I also believe in Ali's value."

"Now."

Mr. Ma stood up and straightened his collar.

"Sign it or get out."

Ten minutes later.

The agreement was signed.

Alibaba's IPO price was ultimately set at $68.00.

This means that Lin Che's words just now have secured nearly 200 billion US dollars more in market value for Alibaba.

The crowd in the meeting room dispersed.

Lin Che packed his things and prepared to leave.

"Lin Che".

Mr. Ma called out to him.

The two stood in front of the huge floor-to-ceiling window, with the dazzling traffic of Manhattan below.

"Did you really dare to let Weipintuan become independent?"

Mr. Ma didn't look at him; his gaze was fixed on the distance.

"dare."

Lin Che answered without the slightest hesitation.

Mr. Ma smiled and said nothing more.

But his hands, hanging at his sides, clenched slightly.

He realized that Ali could no longer control this wolf.

Lin Che walked out of the conference room.

The corridor was covered with thick carpets, making it feel completely silent when you stepped on them.

He took out his phone.

Open your email.

In the drafts folder lay an email that had been written long ago.

Recipient: HR Department.

Subject: Resignation letter.

Lin Che stared at the screen for two seconds.

Hover your thumb over the "Send" button.

It's not the right time yet.

We must wait for that most dazzling moment.

He put his phone back in his pocket and strode towards the elevator.

His reflection was shown in the elevator door.

He was impeccably dressed in a suit, with a cold, piercing gaze.

No longer the timid P7.

Rather, he is a king who is about to ascend the throne.