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

200 Broad Street, New York, Goldman Sachs headquarters.

The 50th floor, CEO's office.

Lloyd Blankfein sat behind his desk, holding a report on the settlement of major client transactions for the week from the FICC division.

The report would be delivered to his desk every Friday afternoon. He would usually spend only fifteen minutes skimming it, circling a few key figures, and then tossing it into the read-and-read document basket.

But today, he stopped on the third page.

It stopped for a long time.

Client Name: Yuanxing Capital

Transaction type: Early exercise and settlement of crude oil call options

Settlement amount: $437,200,000

US$437.2 million.

This is the total amount of cash transferred in advance this week by Farstar Capital for a batch of crude oil call options through Goldman Sachs' over-the-counter platform.

Blankfein looked at the number twice, then turned to the next page, where a more detailed transaction list was attached.

His gaze fell on several lines of key data.

Original position establishment time: Mid-April 2008

Original entry price (premium): Approximately $0.40/barrel on average.

Strike price range: $120-$120-$130/barrel

Price at settlement: $140.21/barrel

Value of settlement option: Approximately $19.00/barrel

Blankfein's finger moved back and forth twice between the numbers "0.40" and "19.00".

$0.40.

Nineteen dollars.

Forty-seven times.

He leaned back in his chair, took off his glasses, pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, and closed his eyes briefly.

Then he put his glasses back on and picked up the intercom on the table.

"Get me Kevin Morris from FICC."

The phone rang twice before the other end answered.

Lloyd.

Kevin's voice carried the kind of caution that a subordinate would have when receiving a sudden call from their boss.

"Kevin, the crude oil options that Farstar Capital settled at our counter this week, worth 437 million, is that their entire position with us?"

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone.

"No," Kevin said. "That's about forty percent of the total crude oil options they hold through our channel. They still have about sixty percent of their options positions untouched."

"What about with other brokers?"

"We don't have direct data. But based on volume analysis, several very large long position liquidations with clear algorithmic order splitting characteristics occurred in the NYMEX crude oil futures market over the past week. The total amount is approximately..."

Kevin paused, as if confirming a number that even he himself found somewhat absurd.

"A nominal size of approximately 1.5 billion to 2 billion US dollars."

Blankfein did not speak.

"If we add the 437 million we settled here, plus the volume of other channels..."

Kevin's voice became more cautious.

"Yuanxing Capital's realized profits from its entire long position in crude oil are conservatively estimated to be over one billion US dollars."

"and,"

Kevin added the last sentence.

"They started building their positions in mid-April. So, it's been two months at most."

Blankfein took the phone receiver away from his ear, placed it on the table, and pressed the speakerphone button.

He stood up and walked to the floor-to-ceiling window.

Two months. One billion dollars.

He worked at Goldman Sachs for thirty years and saw countless brilliant traders make profits of all sizes through various methods.

But putting this number together with this timeframe still gave him a strange feeling that he couldn't quite put his finger on.

It's not jealousy. Blankfein is way past the stage of being jealous of others making money.

It's a deeper, more instinctive unease and dread stemming from one's profession.

"Kevin."

He spoke into the hands-free microphone.

"exist."

"The options he bought had a strike price of $120 to $130. What was the oil price when he opened the position?"

"Approximately $105."

"Buy out-of-the-money long positions at $120 to $130 when the price is $105."

Blankfein repeated, "How many people in the market were doing this at the time?"

Kevin thought for a moment: "Very rare. That strike price range was deep out-of-the-money at the time, implying an upside of over 15%. In mid-April, most institutions' crude oil target prices were still between $110 and $115. Buying calls above $120 was basically burning money."

"That's why his royalties are so cheap."

"Yes. Four cents a barrel. The joke going around our trading desk at the time was that we'd be better off buying lottery tickets with that money."

Blankfein did not laugh.

He stood by the window, looking down at the dense cluster of Manhattan buildings, his fingers unconsciously tapping lightly on the glass.

From Bear Stearns to oil.

twice.

Both times, he accurately chose the direction, timing, and tools when everyone thought it was impossible.

The Bear Stearns incident can be explained by "luck" or "extreme risk appetite." A madman gambled five million and happened to win.

Every year, a few people like this emerge on Wall Street, but most of them disappear the following year.

But this time, with oil, things are different.

It's not a matter of direction—being bullish on oil in April wasn't a particularly unorthodox decision; many people were already taking long positions.

What deeply troubled Blankfein was the choice of the strike price.

$120 to $130.

It's not 110, not 115, not that kind of conservative strike price that's close to market consensus.

Instead, it was 120 to 130. A price range that seemed utterly absurd in mid-April, requiring a 15% to 25% surge in oil prices within just two or three months to realize.

This is not a "bullish" judgment. It is a prediction so precise it's almost unnerving, about the price range in which oil prices will peak.

Currently, oil prices are at $140.

Those options with strike prices of 120 to 130, each one became a money-printing machine.

Even more strangely, he started selling off his holdings when the price was $140.

It's not at 150, not at 160, not at the 200 predicted by Goldman Sachs Research.

It is at 140.

Why the hell is that?

Blankfein turned around and walked back to his desk.

"Kevin, there's one more thing."

"explain."

"Regarding the financial CDS basket that Farstar bought from our counter last month, have there been any additional purchases this week?"

The sound of typing came from the other end of the phone.

"have."

Kevin's voice became more cautious.

"This Wednesday, Farstar's legal representatives contacted our credit derivatives platform, requesting additional transactions within the existing ISDA framework. The premium for the new options is approximately... fifty million US dollars. The notional principal is approximately 2.3 billion."

Has the composition of the basket changed?

"No significant changes. It's still the same macro basket that covers half of Wall Street, including Goldman Sachs itself."

Kevin paused, then lowered his voice:

"Lloyd, I noticed a detail. Although the overall composition of the basket hasn't changed, in the newly added section, Lehman's weight is slightly higher than before. It's increased from 18% to 22% of the basket's total."

"The magnitude was small and didn't trigger our compliance alert. However, considering Farstar's previous...behavioral patterns, I felt it necessary to report this to you."

Blankfein remained silent for about five seconds.

"Understood," he said. "Continue monitoring, and report any unusual activity immediately."

"clear."

"Hanged up."

Blankfein pressed the speakerphone off button.

The office returned to silence.

He sat there, his fingers interlaced on the table, staring at the four words "Yuanxing Capital" on the transaction settlement report, thinking for a long time.

What is this young man doing?

While he was frantically cashing out in oil, he was also quietly increasing his holdings in financial CDS.

On one hand, they are selling off the chips of "economic prosperity," and on the other hand, they are buying insurance against "economic collapse."

These two actions together point to an extremely clear judgment:

He believes the oil boom is coming to an end. And after the oil boom ends, the financial system will face an even greater shock.

Blankfein stood up again and walked to the window.

He didn't like this feeling.

Blankfein closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and then slowly exhaled.

When he opened his eyes, his gaze fell on an ivory-white envelope in the corner of his desk.

That was an invitation letter that my assistant brought in this morning.

In mid-June, the Metropolitan Museum of Art hosted a private charity dinner co-sponsored by the Federal Reserve Bank of New York.

The attendees included Treasury Secretary Paulson, New York Fed President Geithner, CEOs of major Wall Street firms, and some well-known fund managers.

Blankfein picked up the envelope, looked at it, and then put it down.

He picked up the phone and dialed his assistant's extension.

"Please send an invitation to Lance Walker at Farstar Capital. Use my personal name, not Goldman Sachs' company name."

The assistant paused for a moment on the other end of the phone: "Lloyd, the guest list for this dinner needs to be submitted to the Federal Reserve for approval in advance..."

"I know. Tell them Mr. Walker was a guest I personally invited. If the Fed has any questions, tell them to come to me."

"Understood."

Blankfein hung up the phone.

This wasn't just a gesture of goodwill towards Lu Ze. He knew that other CEOs on Wall Street had also taken notice of Lu Ze.

He needed to announce to his inner circle: this rising star is with Goldman Sachs.

He took one last look at the numbers on the transaction report.

$437 million. Settlement at Goldman Sachs' off-exchange counters.

This means that Farstar Capital's cash reserves have now ballooned to a size that even Blankfein needs to take seriously.

The owner of this body is a young Chinese man whom he thought was a "lucky madman" just three months ago.

Blankfein closed the report and put it in the drawer.

He took one last look at the $0.40 figure before closing the drawer.

0.4.

It rose to nineteen.

two months.

He shook his head and closed the drawer.

He previously thought Lu Ze was a fierce wolf on the grasslands. No matter how fierce a wolf is, it still needs to hunt in the hunting grounds.

Goldman Sachs is this hunting ground.

But now, he is beginning to doubt that judgment.