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

Monday, August 2008, 3.

Wall Street is never short of jokes, but this Monday's jokes were absolutely hilarious.

[10:47 AM, Goldman Sachs Trading Floor]

Forty-third floor, stock derivatives trading desk.

The sounds of keyboard typing and telephone shouting mingled together, and the air was thick with the strong smell of caffeine and adrenaline.

"Hey guys! Stop for a second!"

A young trader suddenly shouted, jumping to his feet, "Did you guys see that bet Richard made last Friday? That small Chinese fund called Farstar Capital!"

The noisy trading floor fell silent for half a second, and then seven or eight heads crowded around.

"Oh, that! I checked the settlement statement this morning. 512 million in premiums, buying Bear Stearns put options, strike price 25!"

"Hahaha, did you even check the expiration date, you bastard?"

"March 21st? What's wrong?"

"It's already the 3rd, bro! That kid only gave himself 18 days!!"

A burst of laughter erupted.

"Holy crap, is this idiot serious? Bear Stearns closed at $63 yesterday! He's betting that this giant will drop 60% in 18 days?!"

"Do you know what's the most amazing thing?"

The traders who initially started the commotion laughed so hard they slammed their fists on the table.

"Based on the time value decay of options, this guy loses $300,000 every day he opens his eyes! He's been losing money for 18 consecutive days!"

"This isn't a transaction, this is targeted poverty alleviation!"

"Richard, that old fox, is even more ruthless. He didn't even bother with hedging; he just sold it off naked! He's just waiting to rake in five million for free in 18 days!"

The entire trading floor erupted in deafening laughter.

On Wall Street, the law of the jungle prevails. A well-prepared, cut-up sheep that willingly jumps into someone else's plate receives no sympathy other than ridicule.

[12:23 PM, a long-established bar on Wall Street]

At lunchtime, the place is packed with suited thugs from the nearby investment banks.

Under the influence of alcohol, gossip spreads faster than optical fibers.

"Have you heard? There's this Chinese-American guy named Lu Ze who bet his last five million on a short-term downtrend in Bear Stearns!"

"Haha, does he really think he's a once-in-a-millennium trading genius?"

"At least those who shorted subprime mortgages gave themselves a two-year window, this guy only gave himself three weeks! Bear Stearns just released his earnings report last week, his cash flow is enough to last for several months, how could he possibly die in three weeks?"

"He was probably driven to the brink by Goldman Sachs and his brain completely broke down."

In the corner, a burst of laughter blew the roof off.

However, amidst the noisy laughter, one person sat quietly in the corner.

Daniel, a junior analyst at Morgan Stanley.

He didn't laugh.

He pushed up his black-rimmed glasses, took out his phone, and pulled up Bear Stearns' stock price chart.

Last Friday's closing price: $63.47.

Today's opening price: $62.89. A slight dip, with no signs of a market crash.

But he stared intently at the screen.

He suddenly remembered that last summer, that madman named John Paulson had used almost the exact same method—buying a large amount of subprime put options while everyone else was celebrating.

At the time, Wall Street also mocked him in the same way.

And what happened? Paulson made a whopping $150 billion, sending all those who mocked him to the rooftops.

Daniel swallowed hard, silently put his phone back in his pocket, and didn't say a word.

[2:17 PM, CNBC Business Studio]

Mad Money, the highest-rated financial commentary program in the United States, is being broadcast live.

Host Jim Kramer, known for his sharp tongue and flamboyance, is currently gesturing wildly in front of the camera.

"Dear viewers at home! Next, we are excited to introduce the latest 'genius' to emerge on Wall Street this week!"

Kramer feigned extreme awe, speaking in a high-pitched voice:

"This Chinese hedge fund manager named Lu Ze used a full five million US dollars of real money to buy Bear Stearns put options! Strike price: $25! Expiry date: 18 days later!"

An incredulous gasp erupted from the audience.

Kramer suddenly slammed his fist on the table, his face flushed and neck red as he roared at the camera:

"Everyone! Bear Stearns is currently at $62! He needs this old investment bank, which has been declining for eighty years, to be halved again and again in a mere 18 days!!"

"Is this buying options? No! This is even worse than buying lottery tickets! At least with the lottery, there's a one in ten million chance of winning!"

He walked in front of the camera and made a highly insulting throat-slitting gesture:

"Remember this cautionary tale! This kind of illogical gamble has only one name on Wall Street—STUPID! It's pure financial suicide!"

Thunderous applause and whistles erupted in the studio.

[7:45 PM, Upper East Side, Manhattan, Private Luxury Club]

In the private rooms on the second floor, the crystal chandeliers shone brightly.

On the table were black truffles, top-quality caviar, and several opened bottles of Dom Pérignon champagne. The eight people sitting there were all bigwigs from Goldman Sachs, Lehman Brothers, and Merrill Lynch.

Richard Kleiman sat at the head of the table, cutting his steak with a ruddy complexion.

"...Richard, you've really hit the jackpot with this." Merrill Lynch's MD raised his glass. "Getting five million for free is practically robbery."

"It's not just the company's five million."

Richard took a graceful sip of champagne.

"Including the commission, this deal will add nearly $700,000 to my personal year-end bonus pool. Enough for me to buy a new yacht."

"What's that Chinese kid doing now? Crying in a Brooklyn basement?"

Some people joked about it.

"He's probably buying a one-way ticket back to China."

Richard laughed.

"But seriously—"

Thomas, a senior partner at Morgan Stanley who had been sitting at the end of the table and had been silent all along, suddenly put down his knife and fork.

The laughter in the private room paused for a moment.

Thomas adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, his gaze sharp as he stared at Richard:

"Richard, you really didn't hedge at all? You sold naked?"

Richard frowned.

"I was just thinking about a logic."

Thomas leaned back in his chair, his voice not loud, but it lowered the temperature in the box by a few degrees:

"If someone is truly a gambler who's given up all hope, they can simply buy options that expire in six months or even a year. That way, the timeframe is longer, and the chances of success are greater."

Thomas scanned the crowd, then fixed his gaze intently on Richard's eyes:

"But he got stuck for three weeks."

"Richard, don't you think this is too precise? So precise it's like... he knows that in the next ten days or so, some deadly event will occur that none of us are aware of."

The private room fell into a deathly silence.

You could hear a pin drop.

A few seconds later, Richard forced a dry laugh, breaking the silence: "Thomas, have you been reading too many conspiracy theories? If he really knew the inside story, he'd be God!"

"Yeah, yeah! Overthinking will make you bald, bro. Let's drink!"

Everyone quickly tried to smooth things over.

The atmosphere became lively again.

But Richard's hand, holding the champagne glass, stiffened slightly, almost uncontrollably.

Suddenly, an image flashed uncontrollably through his mind: the cold, calm gaze in Lu Ze's eyes on the day he signed the contract, as if he were looking at a corpse.

[10:32 PM, W Hotel, Room 2317]

Outside the window, Manhattan glitters like a galaxy.

Lu Ze stood quietly in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, looking down at this dazzling steel forest.

"Boss."

Isabella pushed open the door and threw a thick stack of reports on the table, her face extremely grim.

"CNBC's program aired this afternoon. Twitter and Yahoo Finance forums went wild."

"Oh?" Lu Ze didn't turn around. "What did they say?"

"Kramer said on nationally televised broadcast that you were the biggest joke of the year. He said your trades were pure 'stupidity'."

Isabella gritted her teeth. "Right now, all the traders on Wall Street are talking about you like it's dinner time."

"That's good." Lu Ze chuckled.

Isabella froze, a slight blush of anger rising on her face: "So what? They think you're some kind of idiot trying to withdraw money!"

Lu Ze finally turned around.

He walked over to the sofa, sat down, picked up the amber-colored whiskey, and his eyes were so deep they were frightening.

"Isabella, in the financial markets, what does it mean when everyone is laughing at you and convinced you're going to lose?"

Isabella shook her head blankly.

Lu Ze downed the wine in his glass in one gulp, a bloodthirsty smirk curling at the corner of his mouth:

"This means that the odds have become extremely tempting."

"The louder they laugh, the more confident they are in Bear Stearns. The more confident they are, the less they will investigate risks or take defensive hedging measures."

Lu Ze stood up, walked to Isabella, and looked through her to the entire Wall Street.

"Richard's mind is now filled with his new yacht, which is worth hundreds of millions of dollars and is now practically naked."

"Let them laugh."

Lu Ze turned his head and looked out the window.

In the distance, the lights of a skyscraper suddenly went out, and darkness carved a gap in the horizon.

"Because before the hunter pulls the trigger," Lu Ze's deep voice echoed in the room, "the last thing he needs is the prey's alertness."