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

March 1, 2008, 9:40 PM.

W Hotel, Business Suite 2317.

Isabella plugged in the last Bloomberg terminal, and its pale blue light instantly illuminated the dimly lit room.

The single bed in the suite was roughly pushed into a corner, piled high with boxes of financial statements. Two monitors were set up side by side on a huge desk, resembling a makeshift battlefield command post.

The curtains were not drawn. Outside the window, the dazzling night view of Midtown Manhattan stretched out. Amidst countless warm lights, millions of ordinary people were eating, watching TV, and sleeping peacefully, completely unaware of the financial tsunami that was about to engulf Wall Street.

Lu Ze stood quietly by the window, holding a glass of cheap whiskey that he had just grabbed from the hotel refrigerator.

Motionless, like a cold sculpture gazing into the abyss.

"If you were Richard, what would you do?"

Lu Ze spoke softly, seemingly asking Isabel a question, or perhaps just talking to himself.

Isabel paused for a moment, then thought about it.

"We're shorting Bear Stearns... so he'll go long to stabilize the share price?"

Lu Ze turned and glanced at Isabel, but said nothing.

Isabel immediately realized she had said something stupid, and her face flushed slightly with embarrassment—Bear Stearns was a behemoth.

Even though Richard was a vice president at Goldman Sachs, there was very little he could do.

Trying to fill the gap with real money is like a mantis trying to stop a chariot.

"Information. The dissemination of information."

Lu Ze didn't turn around, nor did he offer any further explanation. His voice was so calm it was almost imperceptible: "Use the company account to book a room next door. For the next three days, you'll need to be on call 24/7."

Isabella was stunned: "Three days?"

"Because I need time." Lu Ze turned around and downed the wine in his glass in one gulp.

"I must find a crack in this behemoth of Bear Stearns, before that idiot Richard."

Lu Ze walked to the desk and sat down, placing his hands on the keyboard.

The light from the Bloomberg terminal outlined Lu Ze's sharp jawline.

On the screen is a list of internal institutional investors of Bear Stearns' hedge funds.

This was Bear Stearns's lifeline, and the very foundation of their presence on Wall Street—187 top financiers.

California Public Employees' Retirement System, New York State Retirement System, Barclays Bank, endowment funds of major universities... Behind each of these names lies a staggering fortune of tens or hundreds of billions of dollars.

To bring down Bear Stearns, it was necessary to induce panic among its major investors, causing them to withdraw their funds and creating a run on the bank.

Lu Ze's eyes were cold and hard as iron. He opened the blank form and began to wield his first blade.

First cut: Sever those whose size is not suitable.

Withdrawing all holdings below $1 million would be like scratching an itch for Bear Stearns—it wouldn't do any good.

For giants with assets exceeding $5 million, there are extremely complex political considerations and boardroom power struggles involved. Acting too slowly is useless.

What he needs is someone who can kill with a single blow and is fast enough to escape.

The target is set between $1.5 million and $4 million.

Press Enter, and the list of 187 names is instantly halved, leaving only 55.

At 12:40 a.m., Isabella walked in carrying two cups of black coffee.

"Check the risk control managers of these 55 institutions." Lu Ze didn't even look up, simply tossing over a form.

"I want all their details—education, resume, personality, even their public speaking records."

Without saying a word, Isabella turned around and went back to her room to type on the keyboard.

At 2 a.m., 23 streamlined background reports were presented to Lu Ze.

Lu Ze's gaze swept over them, and he began to unleash his second strike: cutting off those who were dragging their feet.

Those with academic backgrounds who prefer to observe and rigidly adhere to theories? Eliminate them.

Are they seasoned Wall Street veterans with close ties to Goldman Sachs and Bear Stearns? Eliminate them.

Only those "old-fashioned" people who were actuaries, had spent half their lives in the insurance industry, were extremely conservative, and valued risk more than their own lives remained.

Of the seven names, only three remain.

At 3:30 a.m., Lu Ze lit a Cohiba cigar, looked out at the deep night, and swung his third sword: severing ties with his associates.

Isabella pulled up a diagram showing the dark web connections between these seven institutions and Goldman Sachs.

Anyone with a deep-seated interest in Goldman Sachs was eliminated. Because if anything went wrong, Richard, that old fox, only needed a single overseas phone call to keep them calm.

Of the seven names, only three remain.

Five o'clock in the morning.

The sounds of sanitation trucks can already be faintly heard on the streets of Manhattan.

Lu Ze stared at the last three names and unleashed the most lethal fourth blow: severing bureaucracy.

He needs a risk control officer with "absolute autocracy." If withdrawing investment requires a report to the board and three levels of approval, it will be too late.

After swiping away two lengthy decision-making bodies, the mouse hovered fixedly on the last name. For a full ten seconds.

Massachusetts Municipal Employees Retirement Fund

Total assets: US$42 billion.

Holding a Bear Stearns position: $3.2 million. Right on the tipping point that could trigger a localized earthquake!

Chief Risk Officer: Dr. Edmund Harriman.

A 30-year veteran of the insurance industry, an extreme conservative. Most importantly, his resume boasts a remarkably prominent privilege—the authority to mitigate emergency risks!

This means that if he feels there is danger, he can initiate a full liquidation and withdrawal of investment within a second without anyone's signature, and then report to the board of directors afterwards!

Lu Ze casually found a sentence that Dr. Harriman wrote in last year's annual report:

"In my thirty-year career, I've only learned one thing: when the data flashes a red light, run immediately. The most fatal mistake isn't running too early, but running too late!"

This was practically the perfect prey tailor-made for Lu Ze's plan.

"Got you?"

Lu Ze leaned back in his chair and exhaled a long puff of white smoke.

He had a painful enough position, a timid enough personality, made decisions quickly enough, and had absolutely no connection with Goldman Sachs. He managed to expose the weakest link in this multi-billion dollar financial chain.

As dawn approached, the deep blue morning light began to paint the Manhattan skyline.

Lu Ze stood up, organized the only surviving target file, walked next door, and knocked on the door.

The door opened. Isabella hadn't even taken off her coat, and her eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep; she clearly hadn't slept all night.

"I found it." Lu Ze said, his voice hoarse from staying up all night, yet it possessed a sharp edge that was impossible to look directly at.

"Found what?"

"That fissure that could trigger an avalanche." Lu Ze tossed the file onto the table.

Isabella glanced at her watch, her pupils suddenly contracting: "It's only six in the morning?! So fast?"

"Easier than I imagined."

Isabella thought for a moment, "I have a question."

Lu Ze raised his head. "Speak."

"Why not send a copy to everyone...so they realize the risks of Bear Stearns?"

Lu Ze shook his head.

"If the action is too drastic, it will easily become distorted. Moreover, issuing one copy is fine, but issuing a hundred copies is malicious short selling and market manipulation."

Lu Ze calmly instructed, "Go to the convenience store downstairs and buy a copy of the latest print edition of the Wall Street Journal. Fold up all the pages that mention Bear Stearns. Then come back and sleep for two hours."

"And what about you?"

"It takes time to pour that glass of warm water, no matter how you pour it."

Isabella stood there, stunned, watching Lu Ze turn and walk back into the dark blue suite.

That upright figure sent a chill down her spine for no apparent reason.

"Before an avalanche occurs, you don't need to push every single snowflake. You just need to find the weakest crack and pour a cup of warm water into it."