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

Wang Wenyuan froze.

He opened his mouth, but found that the word was like a piece of red-hot charcoal stuck in his throat, and he couldn't spit it out no matter what.

He has no data.

He didn't have a model.

He has no power.

He could only watch helplessly as the self-proclaimed shrewd CEO of this state-owned enterprise, driven by the pursuit of perfect KPIs and a logic of absolving himself of responsibility, pushed the entire group into the abyss.

At that moment, Wang Wenyuan finally realized in despair how cruel Lu Ze's words in the teahouse had been.

—You're oversimplifying Wall Street.

Goldman Sachs doesn't need to bribe anyone or resort to any underhanded tactics.

They only need to exploit the greed and risk-averse instincts inherent in human nature, as well as the logic within this massive bureaucratic system that "as long as the procedure is correct, I am exempt from responsibility even if people die as a result," to easily put the noose around the necks of these state-owned enterprises.

"……I see."

Wang Wenyuan looked like someone who had aged ten years in an instant.

His shoulders slumped, as if all his strength had been drained away.

He didn't argue anymore, nor did he look at the contract again. He silently packed up his notebook and stood up.

"Mr. Liu, I apologize for bothering you. I have already expressed my opinion. The specific decision is up to the company itself."

After saying that, Wang Wenyuan turned around and walked out of the conference room with a slightly unsteady gait.

As the conference room door closed, Liu Jianming snorted and took a big gulp of tea.

"They're just being ridiculous."

Liu Jianming muttered a curse under his breath.

"Someone who's supposed to be a coordinator really thinks he's George Soros. Just to show off his presence, he comes here to boss us around."

"Mr. Liu, about our contract..."

Director Zhang asked cautiously.

"Proceed as planned. Complete the board meeting procedures and get the paperwork signed with Goldman Sachs by next Friday."

Liu Jianming waved his hand impatiently.

After the meeting, Liu Jianming returned to his spacious chairman's office.

He sat in the boss's chair, thought for a moment, and pressed the internal phone: "Xiao Chen, go check if there's some hedge fund on Wall Street that recently made 700 million? And is the person in charge Chinese?"

Ten minutes later, Secretary Chen knocked on the door and came in.

"Mr. Liu, we found it. It's a micro hedge fund called 'Yuanxing Capital.' The founder is Lu Ze, a 26-year-old Chinese-American."

Xiao Chen presented the printed materials to his supervisor:

"This fund was only established in January of this year. Before that, it only had a few million US dollars on its books. Last month, it made a lot of money by betting heavily on Bear Stearns put options. Now it has a bit of a reputation on Wall Street."

"26 years old? Started with millions of dollars?"

After hearing this, Liu Jianming couldn't help but chuckle and shake his head.

"I knew it."

He casually tossed the documents into the trash can, his eyes filled with the arrogance and disdain typical of a top executive of a large state-owned enterprise.

"A clueless young man who stumbled upon some incredible luck at a casino, paired with a bureaucrat who pretends to know everything. These two, together, think they can teach Goldman Sachs how to trade derivatives and how to manage hundreds of billions of dollars in assets?"

"This is absolutely ridiculous."

Liu Jianming picked up the landline on the table and dialed the number of Patrick, the sales director of Goldman Sachs Hong Kong.

"Hello, Patrick? This is Lao Liu."

Liu Jianming's voice instantly became warm and cheerful:

"We've reached an agreement internally on the zero-cost collar option plan. Yes, we'll go with your version exactly as it is, word for word."

"To celebrate, how about we grab a drink at the Peninsula Hotel in Hong Kong after we finish signing next week?"

On the other end of the phone, Patrick's voice was equally enthusiastic, even carrying a hint of barely suppressed elation.

"No problem, Mr. Liu! It'll be a pleasure doing business with you! This is definitely the wisest decision you've made this year!"

……

On Chang'an Avenue, the spring breeze carried dust that stung the eyes.

Wang Wenyuan stood on the steps of the ministry building, looking at the bustling scene of traffic before him.

He clutched the dark red document bag tightly in his hand.

He looked up at the gray sky and suddenly felt that the scene before him was somewhat blurry.

That was the first time he had ever heard so clearly the chilling cracking sound of something enormous about to fall.

But there was nothing he could do.

a.

Wang Wenyuan wiped his eyes.

......

New York time, Saturday morning, April 26th.

Lu Ze had just finished a set of morning exercises and was wearing a black tracksuit. He stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling window of his Upper East Side apartment, drinking a glass of ice water.

The personal cell phone on the table vibrated.

The caller ID showed an unregistered number, but Lu Ze knew who it was.

This is the old-fashioned landline number that Uncle Lin used in the teahouse on Kennedy Street.

Lu Ze pressed the answer button.

"Uncle Lin."

"Xiao Lu, did I disturb your weekend rest?" Mr. Lin's voice came through the receiver, still gentle with a hint of Jiangzhe accent, but it seemed to carry an invisible gravity compared to the last time they met.

"No. You said."

"Xiao Wang went back to Beijing the day before yesterday."

Mr. Lin didn't beat around the bush and brought up Wang Wenyuan directly.

"Before he left, he wanted to come to my place again to thank you in person. But he was in a hurry back home, so he called me from the airport and asked me to make sure he passed on his message."

Lu Ze took a sip of ice water and asked calmly, "Thank me for what?"

"Thank you for the phrase 'unlimited joint liability,' and for the suggestion to add a floor to stock options."

Mr. Lin sighed on the other end of the phone.

"Your words that night really woke him up. He told me that he barely slept during his days in New York. His mind was filled with the terms you mentioned and the consequences of breaching the contract. As soon as he got back, he immediately called a meeting with several government officials, determined to forcefully intervene in the hedging negotiations between those airlines."

Lu Ze looked out the window at Central Park, his eyes remaining calm. He knew things wouldn't be that easy.

"The talks didn't go well, did they?"

Lu Ze asked casually.

This made Mr. Lin on the other end of the phone pause for a second.

"Your brain works as fast as a knife."

Mr. Lin gave a wry smile.

"It's really not going smoothly. Although Xiao Wang is of a high rank, his coordination group is just a coordinating body after all; it doesn't have the absolute power to issue official documents to stop companies' business activities. Besides... oil prices are rising too crazy right now."

"The CFOs of those airlines were green with envy as they watched oil prices rise every day."

Goldman Sachs and Morgan Stanley were fanning the flames again. Xiao Wang asked them to add the "$60 price floor" you mentioned, but Goldman Sachs immediately stated that adding that clause would make the zero-cost deal impossible, as they would have to pay hefty monthly option protection fees.

Mr. Lin lowered his voice, his tone revealing a deep sense of helplessness unique to those within the system:

"The situation with state-owned enterprises is both easy and difficult to calculate. Nobody wants to sign a contract and spend tens of millions to buy an insurance policy that says 'oil prices will drop to $60' when oil prices are about to rise to $150."

Xiao Wang was alone there, enduring immense industry pressure, practically arguing with the board members of several giant state-owned enterprises.

"He's going against them head-on now. But they insist on signing, and Xiao Wang can't do anything about it."

After listening, Lu Ze showed no mockery on his face.

He was all too familiar with this deadlock between humanity and the system.

Wang Wenyuan is a responsible person, but in the face of the fervor of capital and the inertia of bureaucracy, personal clarity is often the most powerless.

"I understand. Wish him the best."

Lu Ze said.

"I will."

Mr. Lin paused, his tone becoming solemn, no longer that of a teahouse owner, but more like an elder conveying a very weighty promise:

"Xiao Wang said one last thing to you at the airport. He said he wouldn't interfere with how much influence you wield on Wall Street, nor did he have the right to. But just because you didn't stand idly by that night and were willing to lend him a hand..."

Mr. Lin relayed the words slowly and deliberately:

"If one day you get tired of being abroad and want to come back to China, just let me know. I'll personally drive my beat-up Hongqi to the tarmac at the Capital Airport to pick you up."

New York was quiet in the early morning.

Upon hearing this, Lu Ze's gaze flickered slightly, and he remained silent for two seconds.

"Please pass on this message to Director Wang."

"I appreciate his kindness. I will call him if that day ever comes."

After hanging up the phone, Lu Ze stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, looking down at the yellow taxis moving like ants.

Are those state-owned enterprise executives wrong? Not necessarily.

As long as everyone signs, even if they lose tens of billions later, it's just a limitation of the times and a necessary tuition fee.

If you don't sign the agreement and suffer losses on your own, then that's a sin.

He shook his head and returned to his desk.