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

270 Park Avenue, Main Office.

Lu Ze sat quietly behind the large desk.

The cold light from the screen shone on his deep-set face, which remained expressionless.

He opened the screenshot of the betting odds depth that Isabella had sent him.

I glanced at it, then zoomed out and brought up the implied volatility surface chart of crude oil options.

This is also a routine data point he checks every day.

But today, some bumps on the chart made his fingers, which were holding the mouse, pause for a very rare moment.

There has been an unusual surge in open interest for call options expiring in July with strike prices between $120 and $130.

Trading volume increased by nearly two times.

Lu Ze stared at those numbers.

He knew very well that these huge additional transactions were not orders placed by him.

Isabella's option position building was very discreet and her timing was extremely well controlled, making it impossible for her to leave such an abrupt trace on a single strike price.

This is "smart money" in the market following the trend.

Although they did not see Lu Ze's underlying options structure, they deduced the logic behind Yuanxing's entry at this moment based on Yuanxing's publicly disclosed long positions in stocks and futures, and eagerly added leverage, trying to catch this ride.

Lu Ze slowly released the mouse and leaned back in the leather chair.

The office was quiet, with the central air conditioning humming softly.

On this quiet afternoon, Lu Ze felt a hidden chill slowly creeping up his spine.

That's not fear.

It's a predator's instinctive stress response when facing the unknown.

In his memory, the surge in crude oil prices in 2008 was a "natural" frenzy without any major market manipulators.

It was the depreciation of the US dollar, the risk aversion of funds, and the false prosperity before the collapse of Lehman Brothers that, like a frog being slowly boiled in water, gradually pushed oil prices to an absolute high of $147.27. Then, on July 11, it suddenly peaked and began a sharp decline.

It was a candlestick chart that was drawn very clearly.

All he needs to do is take this map, place the options at the right time and at the right price, and then wait to reap the rewards.

Just like how they dealt with Bear Stearns.

But now, things have changed.

Because Yuanxing Capital is no longer the obscure entity with only five million in its accounts and no one paying attention to it.

He held 500 million in cash, and more fatally, he carried the terrifying aura of "killing Bear Stearns".

When this bloodthirsty behemoth entered the crude oil market and deliberately made itself visible to Goldman Sachs, it ceased to be a mere "observer."

It itself has become a prominent trend indicator in the market.

Those bulls who entered the market early because of his reputation, and those bears who withdrew early out of fear of him... these huge amounts of capital are changing the micro-supply and demand structure of the crude oil market.

This means...

The upward slope will become steeper due to the early crowding of bulls.

The historical high of $147.27 may no longer be the peak.

Because of the excessive influx of funds, it may break through 150, or even 160.

However, due to the accumulation of profits in advance, the timing of the market crash may no longer be July 11th. It could end abruptly on a completely unexpected afternoon in June.

History has been tainted.

The source of the pollution was the name "Lu Ze".

He always believed that the greatest trump card of the reborn was knowing the standard answer to everything.

It wasn't until this moment, in this sunny Manhattan office, that he truly realized for the first time that when you walk into the exam room with your answers, and your movements are so exaggerated that all the other test takers start copying your answers, the questions on the exam paper have already been rewritten without your knowledge.

Real trading never involves open-book exams.

Lu Ze opened the drawer on his left.

The list, filled with option strike prices and expiration dates, that Isabella had locked away, lay quietly inside.

Every number in the above row is incredibly precise.

But they were written based on that old history that "did not include Farstar Capital".

"Click".

The office door was pushed open.

Isabella walked in carrying a summary document. Her pace was slightly faster than usual today.

"Boss, today's buying volume is at least 20% higher than the same period yesterday. The prime broker (PB) trader at Goldman Sachs just tentatively asked if we need them to increase our leverage."

Isabella walked to the table, put down the documents, and said, "The news has spread far and wide underwater; someone's already 'carrying the sedan chair' for us. This will accelerate the unrealized profits for our futures positions."

Lu Ze neither looked at the document nor at the floating profit figures on the screen.

He just stared at the list of options lying in the drawer.

Isabella.

Lu Ze suddenly spoke, his voice as calm as a stagnant pool.

"Hmm?" Isabella stopped what she was doing and looked at him.

Lu Ze did not speak immediately.

He reached out and slowly pushed the drawer up until he heard the soft click of the latch closing.

Then he looked up and looked into Isabella's eyes.

"If a map clearly marks all the traps and treasures."

Lu Ze's voice was soft, yet it carried a certain weight that struck straight to the heart in the empty office.

"However, because you took too many steps on this map, you triggered an earthquake, which changed the terrain beneath your feet."

He looked at her, as if asking her a question, but also as if asking himself:

"Is this map still usable?"

Isabella was stunned.

She looked at Lu Ze. This man hadn't frowned when faced with a 50 million margin call, nor had he smiled when he earned 700 million.

But at this moment, she saw something extremely unfamiliar and unfathomable in this man's eyes for the first time.

That is a doubt about absolute certainty.

Isabella did not answer.

Because this philosophical question, which transcends trading indicators, was beyond the scope of her professional training. But she instinctively felt that this was no casual question.

"...Boss?" she called out hesitantly.

Looking at her somewhat bewildered eyes, Lu Ze noticed that after two seconds, the sense of emptiness emanating from him vanished completely.

"fine."

Lu Ze leaned back, waved his hand, and resumed his usual cold and confident demeanor.

"Go ahead and get busy. Whether they're the ones carrying the sedan chair or just following the trend, as long as they're buying, let them buy."

"The original options position building plan remains unchanged; we will continue to expand."

"Understood." Isabella nodded and turned to leave the office.

"etc."

Lu Ze suddenly called her again.

Isabella stopped and turned around.

Lu Ze didn't look at the screen, but instead looked her up and down.

Isabella was wearing a perfectly tailored black Armani business suit today, her back ramrod straight. But no matter how high-end the foundation, it couldn't conceal the faint dark circles under her eyes. The knuckles of her fingers, holding the summary documents, were slightly white, an unconscious reaction to the muscle tension caused by long-term heavy pressure and high-frequency operations.

Over the past two weeks, all of Yuanxing Capital's open purchases, hidden option splits, and coordination and settlement with Goldman Sachs' prime brokerage department were manually executed by her alone, day and night.

"How many hours did you sleep last night?" Lu Ze asked.

Isabella paused for a moment, seemingly not expecting her boss to ask that question.

"...Three and a half hours. The London ICE exchange opens early, so I need to keep an eye on the pre-market data for Brent crude oil and place a few inter-month arbitrage orders while I'm at it."

Isabella.

Lu Ze crossed his arms and placed them on the table, his tone becoming serious.

"We currently have 500 million in cash on hand. We are building a massive position that can influence the depth of the crude oil micro-market."

"You are now the Chief Operating Officer (COO) of Farstar Capital, not a junior trading desk clerk earning sixty dollars an hour. Your brain is meant to help me make overall risk control and daily operational decisions, not to be used to exhaust yourself alone by staring at a screen and typing on a keyboard at three in the morning."

Isabella opened her mouth slightly, but didn't say anything. She was used to the pressure of doing everything herself, and subconsciously, she felt that only the deals she personally closed were worthy of the two million annual salary contract Lu Ze had given her.

"Go and recruit people."

Lu Ze looked at her and gave the order directly.

"We need to set up a real trading room. Go find me two execution traders, a researcher who understands macro commodities, and a back-office finance person who specifically oversees compliance and clearing."

Isabella took a deep breath, her mind quickly switching to HR mode: "Wall Street firms are downsizing right now, and there are definitely some people being laid off. I'll go to headhunting firms and get some resumes from Ivy League schools or people with two or three years of experience at major banks..."

"No need to hire a headhunter, and no need to look at Ivy League degrees," Lu Ze interrupted her.

A mocking smirk curled at the corner of his lips:

"Have you forgotten what we saw across from this building last Friday?"

Isabella paused for a second, and then the image flashed through her mind—383 Madison Avenue, the entrance to the Bear Stearns headquarters building, where financial elites sat on the steps like stray dogs, clutching cardboard boxes and with vacant eyes.

"Bear Stearns is dead, and JPMorgan Chase is feasting on it, but they can't eat Bear Stearns' more than 10,000 employees. Now, the bars and streets of Manhattan are full of top traders who were once invincible but can't even afford to pay their mortgage next month."

Lu Ze's gaze was cold and precise, as if he were selecting a weapon:

"Choose from that group."

"I don't want those star traders who think they can beat the market and are full of arrogant theories. I want execution machines that have witnessed their own buildings collapse, experienced real fear, know how to respect risk, and are now extremely hungry for results."

"Go and bring them back. Tell them that Farstar Capital is providing them with a table, a terminal, and a chance to survive in this meat grinder."

As Isabella looked at Lu Ze, she felt the heaviness in her blood caused by fatigue vanish, replaced by a trembling and excited sense of power.

This is the true Wall Street style.

He stepped over the corpse, then removed any usable parts from it and put them into his own vehicle.

"I understand, boss."

Isabella straightened her back even more, her voice crisp and decisive, "By Friday, the trading room will be full of the people you need."

Lu Ze nodded slightly: "Go get to work."

This time, Isabella's steps as she turned and left were more steady than ever before.

The door closed again.

Lu Ze turned his chair around to face the huge floor-to-ceiling window.

Manhattan’s steel jungle gleams in the sunlight.

He knew that the map could no longer be fully trusted. He needed to find his one and only escape hatch amidst the storm he himself had stirred up.

In this process, he not only needs intuition and an extreme sense of human nature, but he also needs an absolutely obedient and tireless army.

"interesting."

Lu Ze looked at his blurry reflection in the glass window and his lips twitched slightly.

There is no single answer.

This seems more like a real transaction.