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

The Manhattan night was dyed orange.

That's Alibaba's brand color.

From the Nasdaq screen in Times Square to every street sign on Fifth Avenue, and even the flags waved by souvenir vendors on the street, everything features that eye-catching smiling logo.

Tonight, Chinese capital has bought New York.

The Waldorf Astoria Hotel ballroom.

The crystal chandelier refracted a dazzling light, and the champagne towers were piled up like a small mountain.

Top global fund managers, politicians, and celebrities, holding wine glasses and wearing polite smiles, weaved through the crowd in search of Mr. Ma.

The air was filled with the scents of truffles and money.

Lin Che stood in the corner.

He glanced down at the gold-embossed invitation in his hand—[IPO Pre-Gala Dinner] (the celebration banquet on the eve of the IPO).

With a casual flick of the wrist.

The card traced a graceful arc in the air and landed on a passing waiter's tray, perfectly covering a glass of leftover red wine.

He turned around and pushed open the heavy doors of the banquet hall.

He left all the flattery and noise behind.

He doesn't belong there.

It doesn't belong to that group yet, at least not now.

Lin Che walked out of the hotel's revolving door.

In September, the wind in New York City carried the dampness of the Hudson River.

He loosened his tie and took a deep breath of the air, which was filled with the smell of gasoline and the feeling of freedom.

This scent felt more authentic to him than expensive perfumes.

street corner.

A food truck is steaming.

"One hot dog. Mustard only."

Lin Che pulled out a crumpled five-dollar bill and slapped it on the stainless steel table.

The Mexican vendor skillfully cut open the bread, put in a hot dog, and squeezed on a sliver of yellow mustard.

When it was handed over, a big smile was also included.

Lin Che took the hot dog and sat down next to a fire hydrant by the roadside.

He took a bite.

The starchy texture of the cheap sausage, combined with the spiciness of the wasabi, exploded in my mouth instantly.

This inexpensive carbohydrate brings a greater sense of satisfaction than a Michelin three-star meal.

He raised his head.

Directly above, on the giant screen in Times Square known as the "Crossroads of the World," Alibaba's prospectus data is being displayed on a scrolling screen.

$25 Billion (US$250 billion in funding).

The largest IPO in history.

The screen's light shone on his face, turning his pupils gold.

Lin Che chewed the food in his mouth, his Adam's apple bobbing, and swallowed.

That rough, swallowing sensation felt like swallowing the entire city.

Of those impressive numbers on the screen, half the credit goes to him for "brushing" them up, and half of the crisis he "saved" them from.

But he's sitting here.

Eating $5 junk food, like a homeless vagrant.

This stark contrast gave him a perverse pleasure.

He is the shadow architect of this vast business empire.

He is also the rebel who, at dawn, will personally push this giant ship in another direction.

"Buzz—"

My phone vibrated in my pocket.

Lin Che took out the Nokia.

The screen lit up softly.

An unread text message.

From: Li Mo.

The head of the Integrity and Compliance Department, who had been marginalized, and the hunter who once tried to kill him.

Congratulations, but I'll be watching you closely. Don't think you can whitewash your image just because you've gone public.

Between the lines, there is a sense of resentment, like that of a stray dog.

Lin Che smiled.

He did not reply.

Fingers flew across the keyboard.

[Options] - [Add to blacklist] - [OK].

Click.

The world is quiet now.

He glanced at the name one last time, then put his phone back in his pocket.

Some people are destined to live in the old era, drowning in those outdated rules.

And he.

We're heading to the new world.

Lin Che finished the rest of the hot dog in a few bites.

He patted the bread crumbs off his hands.

He stood up and straightened his wind-blown trench coat.

At that moment, the midnight bells rang.

9 month 19 day.

Arrived.

The tourists around him were still excitedly taking pictures of the big screen, and no one noticed the young Asian man.

Lin Che blended into the crowd.

He looked up at the sky filled with orange neon lights, and opened his arms as if embracing the void.

"Tonight, New York will be sleepless for me."

……

The next morning.

6:00 AM.

Lin Che woke up on time.

I slept unusually soundly.

He went into the bathroom and turned on the tap.

The cold water splashed on my face chased away the last trace of sleepiness.

The face in the mirror was young, sharp, and its eyes held a knife.

He shaved his stubble clean.

Open the wardrobe.

Hanging inside was a custom-made Italian handcrafted suit. It was dark blue, impeccably tailored, and the cufflinks were made of black onyx.

He bought it with his own money.

It's not Alibaba's work uniform, nor is it standard equipment for the P7.

Lin Che put on a shirt, tied his tie, and put on a suit jacket.

Every movement was meticulous, as if performing some kind of sacred ritual.

At last.

His gaze fell on the bedside table.

There was an orange work badge hanging there.

His photo and employee number 1024 were printed on it.

That was his identity document at Alibaba.

It was also the shackle that bound him for two lifetimes.

Lin Che extended his hand.

My fingertips touched the cold plastic shell of the employee badge.

There was a one-second pause.

Then, skip that.

He didn't take that employee badge.

He turned around and strode out of the room.

The door was slammed shut.

Because after today.

He is more than just Lin Che.