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

Monday, March 17, 2008, 9:30 a.m.

The New York Stock Exchange.

The opening bell rang in the breathless silence of countless traders around the world.

At that moment, the whole world was looking at the same stock ticker: BSC (Bear Stearns).

On the Bloomberg terminal, Bear Stearns' opening price appeared—

$3.14

There was no resistance.

There was no rebound.

There wasn't even a technical struggle.

This stock, which once stood proudly on Wall Street at a high of $171, now lies stiffly on the metal plate of the morgue like a corpse drained of its blood.

In the CNBC studio, the presenter's voice began to tremble:

"Ladies and gentlemen...we are witnessing history...an investment bank with an 85-year history and total assets exceeding four hundred billion dollars, its stock price...has fallen to...three dollars..."

The camera then switches to the trading floor of the New York Stock Exchange.

The traders in their colorful vests stood there, staring blankly at the large screen above them.

No one was bidding.

No one is running.

The entire hall fell into an eerie, almost funeral-like silence.

Because everyone knew that Bear Stearns' death was just the beginning.

If a "too big to fail" investment bank can fall from $60 to $3 in a week, then—

What about Lehman Brothers?

What about Merrill Lynch?

Even... what about Goldman Sachs?

……

Manhattan, headquarters of Farstar Capital.

In the trading room, twelve Bloomberg terminal screens were lit up simultaneously.

Isabella sat at the control panel, her hands on the keyboard. Her fingers trembled slightly, not from fear, but from extreme excitement and a surge of adrenaline.

She glanced at Lu Ze.

Lu Ze stood behind her, staring blankly at the number on the screen: $3.14.

"That's fine."

His voice was soft, yet it carried an unquestionable, absolute authority.

Isabella took a deep breath and her fingers landed on the keyboard.

She logged into Goldman Sachs's options clearing system's dedicated interface and entered Farstar Capital's institutional code and the sixteen-digit encryption key.

Screen refresh.

A table popped up, clearly listing the contract that had changed everything:

Underlying asset: Bear Stearns common stock (BSC)

Option type: American put option

Strike price: $25.00

Expiration date: April 2008, 3

Contract quantity: 341,600 contracts (equivalent to 34,160,000 shares)

Counterparty: Goldman Sachs Global Securities Division

Royalty: $5,124,000 paid

Isabella's cursor stopped on the red button at the bottom of the table.

The button has three words written on it: Early Exercise

"Boss..."

Her voice sounded a little strained.

"Once I press this button, there's no turning back. Goldman Sachs will receive a system notification within one second."

"according to."

Lu Ze's voice was as cold as iron.

Isabella closed her eyes and pressed the Enter key heavily.

"Smack."

The screen refreshed instantly.

A green dialog box popped up:

The exercise application has been submitted.

Settlement price: $3.14 (NYSE opening price)

Earnings per share: $25.00 - $3.14 = $21.86

Total number of shares: 34,160,000

Amount payable: $746,737,600

The settlement will be completed within T+2 trading days.

US$746,737,600.

The number lay silently on the screen, like a nuclear bomb that had just been detonated, waiting for the shockwaves to spread throughout Wall Street.

Isabella slumped into a chair, covering her face with her hands, her shoulders trembling violently.

She didn't know whether she was crying or laughing.

Lu Ze did not speak.

He just stood there quietly, looking at the number.

There was no ecstasy.

There was no excitement.

There is only one kind of extremely calm satisfaction a hunter feels after watching his prey die completely.

He picked up the landline on the table and dialed a number.

It rang twice before the other end answered.

"Walker."

It was Greenberg's hoarse voice.

"The exercise request has been submitted."

Lu Ze said, "According to our agreement, you hold 20% of the profits. After deducting the royalty costs, your share is approximately... US$148 million."

There was a few seconds of silence on the other end of the phone.

Then came the old man's deep laughter.

There was no greed in that laughter, only a kind of exhilarating joy that came from finally rediscovering the feeling of those days.

"Well done, kid."

Greenberg said,

"I'll have my team ready. Goldman Sachs... should be making a move soon."

"I know."

Lu Ze hung up the phone.

He walked to the French windows and lit a Cohiba cigar.

Take a deep breath, the thick smoke swirling in your lungs, then slowly exhale.

He glanced at his watch.

9:35 a.m.

From the submission of the option exercise application to the triggering of an alert by Goldman Sachs' risk control system, it takes approximately...

three minutes.

……

Goldman Sachs headquarters, 43 floors.

Global Securities Department Risk Control Center.

In a huge open-plan office area, more than 30 risk control analysts sat at their respective workstations, each with a dense array of multi-screen terminals in front of them.

More than a dozen giant LED screens hang on the wall, displaying Goldman Sachs' risk exposure in various markets around the world in real time.

9:37 a.m.

"Beep—beep—beep—"

A terminal suddenly emitted a piercing red alarm.

The junior analyst in charge of options clearing monitoring paused for a moment, then immediately clicked on the alert details.

When he saw the string of numbers that popped up on the screen, he was as if he had been struck by lightning, and he jumped up from his chair.

"Oh my god!"

He let out a scream that was almost a scream.

Everyone in the risk control center turned their heads in unison.

"What's wrong?!" The risk control manager rushed over.

The junior analyst's face was ashen, his fingers trembling as he pointed at the screen:

"Yuanxing Capital... has just submitted an application for early exercise of its Bear Stearns put options..."

He swallowed hard.

"Amount payable...US$746.73 million..."

The risk control manager's pupils suddenly contracted.

He shoved the analyst aside and sat down at the computer himself.

When he saw that number with his own eyes, cold sweat instantly broke out on his forehead.

"Report this immediately! Notify the legal department, compliance department, and the CEO's office! Quickly!!"

The entire risk control center instantly erupted into chaos.

……

The 50th floor, CEO's office.

Lloyd Blankfein sat behind his custom-made desk, which cost $120,000, and was reviewing the global market briefing from this morning.

As the CEO of Goldman Sachs, he is used to remaining calm in the face of storms.

Bear Stearns' demise was indeed shocking, but for Goldman Sachs, it was more like a golden opportunity to eliminate a competitor.

He was even considering whether to take the opportunity to poach a few of Bear Stearns' top traders.

"Bang--!"

The office door was suddenly and roughly pushed open.

Chief Risk Officer Craig Smith stormed in, his face ashen, holding a freshly printed document.

"Lloyd! Something terrible has happened!"

Blankfein frowned. "What is it?"

Craig slammed the file down on his desk:

"The Bear Stearns put options Richard Kleiman sold to Farstar Capital three weeks ago—they've just submitted an exercise request!"

Blankfein paused for a moment.

He picked up the document and glanced at it.

Then, his expression changed instantly.

"Seven hundred million...forty-six million..."

He abruptly raised his head and stared intently at Craig:

"Are you sure this number is correct?!"

"The system has automatically confirmed it three times!"

Craig's voice was filled with barely suppressed anger and fear.

"Lloyd, this loss... wiped out almost half of our first-quarter net profit!"

In the first quarter of 2008, Goldman Sachs' net profit was $15.1 billion.

And now, a damn options trade is going to deduct 7.47 million from that figure.

This is not an ordinary loss.

This is a catastrophic hole that could cause a shareholder uproar on an earnings call and lead the board to question the CEO's abilities.

Blankfein suddenly stood up and placed his hands on the table.

His face, which usually wore a shrewd smile, was now twisted like that of a wild beast driven to the brink of despair.

"Where is that idiot Richard Kleiman?!"

"In his office," Craig said. "I've already had security lock his door."

"Summon all the partners from the legal department, compliance department, and investment banking department!"

Blankfein's voice was deep and thunderous.

"Emergency Executive Committee meeting in ten minutes!"

He stared intently at the four words "Yuanxing Capital" on the document, a dangerous glint flashing in his eyes.

"I don't care how this money was lost."

He spoke slowly and deliberately:

"All I know is that Goldman Sachs will never pay a $700 million tuition fee for the foolish actions of a vice president."

"no way."