A $50 million margin call? I'll short Wall Street.

The silence in the study lasted for a full minute.

Greenberg stared at Lu Ze, who was sitting across from him. This young Chinese man, barely in his twenties, held his glass, his expression calm, as if his casual pronouncement of a death sentence for a top investment bank was nothing more than a discussion of tomorrow's weather.

"Much lower than it is now."

Greenberg repeated the sentence, his hoarse voice carrying an undisguised astonishment.

"Okay. I trust your judgment."

The old man leaned forward slightly, his hands crossed on his knees.

The atmosphere shifted subtly at that moment, transforming from a high and mighty elder into an ally truly ready to step into the battlefield.

"But Walker, seeing the right direction and actually putting the money in your pocket are two different things."

Greenberg's gaze was as sharp as a razor's edge.

"If it were tens of millions, Goldman Sachs would grit its teeth and accept it, considering it tuition for that idiot Richard. But if what you're saying is true—if Bear Stearns is acquired at a very low price on Monday—the value of your options will inflate to seven hundred million, eight hundred million, or even a billion dollars!"

He tapped the wooden handrail heavily with his fingers:

"Do you know what this means? It means that this amount of money is enough to wipe out Goldman Sachs' structured products division's entire quarterly profit. Goldman Sachs' board will not allow that to happen. Never."

"What will they do?" Lu Ze picked up his wine glass and swirled it gently.

"They'll flip the table."

Greenberg chuckled coldly, his tone revealing an extreme familiarity with Wall Street's rogue logic:

"They will immediately apply for an injunction in the Southern District of Manhattan federal court after the market opens on Monday to freeze your exercise account."

The reasons are readily available: Richard exceeded his authority, forged qualification reports, and the options contract was signed under fraudulent circumstances, therefore it is invalid from the outset.

"They have the best legal team in the country. They don't need to win the case immediately; they just need to drag it into a long process of evidence gathering and hearings. One year, two years, three years. By the time your Farstar Capital is completely drained by the exorbitant legal fees, you won't have gotten a single penny."

Greenberg stared into Lu Ze's eyes, as if conducting a final, ultimate test:

"That's how it is on Wall Street. When the big players realize they're about to lose everything, they stop talking about the spirit of the contract."

You, a young Chinese American with no connections, what makes you think you can fight against this vampire squid?

Lu Ze did not avoid the old man's gaze.

He put down his wine glass, leaned forward slightly, and a faint smile appeared on his lips.

"Of course I can't fight against this alone."

Lu Ze said softly,

"That's why I needed to leave you on my ship at that Japanese restaurant in the Lower East Side."

Greenberg shook his head: "Having my name on the contract might make Goldman Sachs' legal department wary. But Walker, when it comes to a billion dollars in profits, my reputation can't stop Lloyd Blankfein (Goldman Sachs CEO) from wielding his sword."

"Your face certainly can't be saved."

Lu Ze looked at the old man, his eyes becoming extremely deep, like an ancient well with no bottom.

"But what if... you add a sufficiently sharp knife?"

Greenberg frowned slightly: "What knife?"

"A knife that was just handed to them by one of their own men."

Lu Ze leaned back, his tone becoming nonchalant, yet every word was piercing:

"I heard that Dr. Harriman, the risk control officer of the Massachusetts pension fund, is in a very bad mood lately."

Greenberg's pupils contracted sharply.

The study fell silent once again.

Only the firewood in the fireplace made a soft "crackling" sound.

A slight twitch appeared on Greenberg's chiseled face.

Three seconds later.

A chilling, cunning smile spread across Greenberg's lips.

"You didn't touch that thing the whole time..." The old man's hoarse voice was filled with disbelief and admiration, "but you not only knew it existed, you even planned how to use it."

"On Wall Street, you need to know more than just finance," Lu Ze said, raising his glass.

The old fox and the little fox smiled at each other in the dim light. Everything was understood without words.

"Very good. I know what to do."

Greenberg raised his glass and lightly clinked it against Lu Ze's. "Leave Boston to me."

"It's a pleasure working with you."

……

4:30 PM.

The black Mercedes-Benz S-Class sedan drove out of the estate and back onto the coastal highway leading to New York.

The storm finally arrived.

Large raindrops pounded against the car window, making a dull thud.

The windshield wipers were swung wildly, but they still couldn't completely clear the view ahead. The whole world was shrouded in gray and chaos.

The carriage was quiet. Only the extremely low volume of classical music was playing from the car stereo.

Isabella frowned slightly. Ever since leaving the manor, she had been in a state of wanting to say something but holding back.

Ask whatever you want.

Lu Ze leaned back in the leather seat in the back and closed his eyes to rest.

Isabella turned her head and looked at the boss's calm face in the rearview mirror.

"Boss, I don't understand."

She hesitated for a moment, but still asked the question that had been bothering her:

"Mr. Greenberg is a 'living fossil' of Wall Street; he cherishes his reputation above all else. Even if you give him 20% of the profits... we'll be facing Goldman Sachs' legal department and compliance committee! This is a real battle! Why would he be willing to take such a huge risk and wade into our mess?"

"Could it be... simply because they admire your talent?"

Isabella herself didn't believe in this Wall Street fairy tale.

Lu Ze slightly opened his eyes, looked at the blurry rain scene outside the car window, and a cold smile appeared on his lips.

"Appreciation? In the face of money, appreciation isn't even worth a penny."

Lu Ze's voice rang out in the quiet carriage, revealing an extreme insight into human nature stripped of all warmth:

"He was willing to make the move, firstly because this deal offered him an unbeatable risk-reward ratio."

"In this deal, he doesn't need to put up a single penny of capital. All he has to do is make a few phone calls, use his network of contacts, and lend us his name."

Lu Ze looked at Isabella. "If he loses, he loses nothing; if he wins, he can get a hundred or two hundred million dollars for free. If it were you, would you take this opportunity?"

Isabella nodded; this was in line with the absolute rationality of a financier.

"But that's only the surface reason."

Lu Ze changed the subject, his eyes becoming deep and thoughtful.

"What truly made him decide to confront Goldman Sachs wasn't money."

Isabella was stunned: "Not money? Then what is it for?"

"To prove he's not old yet."

Lu Ze said softly.

"You've checked his file, so you should know. During last year's subprime short-selling frenzy that swept across the United States, John Paulson made a fortune of 15 billion dollars. However, this 'Hammer,' who was once hailed as a legend in 1987 and 1998, was humiliatingly forced to cut his short positions due to obstruction from the risk control committee, and ended up with nothing."

"For a top hunter who has been proud on Wall Street for thirty years, watching someone else use his chart to haul away a ship full of gold is a humiliation that is more painful than death."

Lu Ze's fingers tapped lightly on his knees, as if playing the prelude to a battle song:

"An aging lion always needs a powerful prey to prove to the whole savanna that its claws are still sharp."

"And now, Goldman Sachs—the most arrogant and ruthless behemoth on Wall Street—is the most perfect prey he has ever encountered in his life."

Isabella's breath hitched slightly.

She suddenly realized that the young man behind her had not only calculated Richard's greed and Harriman's fear, but he had even clearly calculated the pride and obsession that a veteran like Greenberg had buried deep in his heart.

He turned everyone into pieces on his chessboard.

"So..." Isabella swallowed hard, "Now, all we need to do is wait?"

Yes. Wait.

Lu Ze closed his eyes again, hiding himself in the shadows of the back seat.

"Wait until this weekend is over."

"Wait until the Federal Reserve and JPMorgan Chase strike that final gavel on the gallows of Wall Street."

The black Mercedes, like a ghost, tore through the torrential rain and sped toward the brightly lit Manhattan in the distance.