Chapter 436: Plaza Accord

September 22, 1985, the rain in Tokyo made people feel annoyed.

It was not a refreshing downpour, but a sticky, continuous rain that clung to the whole city like a wet rag that could never be wrung dry—an autumn rain.

Raindrops slid down the glass curtain walls of skyscrapers, diffusing the neon lights' halos into patches of dreamy color.

On Ginza Street, pedestrians held up uniform transparent plastic umbrellas, hurrying along, their heels striking the wet pavement with a monotonous, dense patter.

In Roppongi, the top floor of an unremarkable office building.

The curtains were drawn tight, shutting out the gloomy rain outside and the city's clamor.

Inside, only a few low‑intensity desk lamps were on, casting a dim yellow light that focused on several huge LCD screens.

The screens glowed faintly green, displaying constantly jumping numbers, winding K‑line charts, and dense strings of Japanese and English code.

The air was thick with the smell of coffee, ink on paper, and a silent, almost tangible tension.

Li Ping'an stood by the floor‑to‑ceiling window, his back to the room.

He held a cup of tea that had long gone cold, but he did not drink it.

His gaze seemed to pierce the thick curtains, aiming at some unseen distance.

He wore a simple dark‑gray sweater, his posture still straight, but the fine lines at the corners of his eyes, illuminated by the screen light, looked clearer than usual.

There were seven or eight other people in the room.

Zhou Wenbin sat before the main trading desk, his fingers hovering over the keyboard, fingertips slightly white. The gold‑wire glasses on his nose reflected the screen's light; behind the lenses his eyes were bloodshot yet startlingly bright.

Lin Wanyi stood behind him, arms crossed, her short hair neat, lips pressed into a straight line. Before her lay several documents filled with handwritten complex formulas and messy annotations.

The other traders and researchers, whether seated or standing, held their breath, their eyes darting between the screens and Li Ping'an's back; only the low hum of the server cooling fans broke the silence.

The electronic clock on the wall ticked over silently.

20:47.

Thirteen minutes remained until the official announcement of that news.

Li Ping'an finally turned around. His face showed no special expression, calm as the deep sea beyond the night‑dark window. Yet everyone in the room felt something tighten.

"Are we ready?" he said, his voice not loud but unusually clear in the silence.

"Ready, Mr. Li," Zhou Wenbin replied, his voice a little hoarse as he cleared his throat. "Following your orders, over the past seventy‑two hours we have liquidated all Japanese real‑estate‑related stocks and bonds through seventeen offshore accounts and agencies, recovering funds totaling… 153.76 billion US dollars."

When that figure was spoken, the room heard a few barely audible, suppressed intakes of breath.

Even though those present were financial elites accustomed to massive capital flows, hearing that astronomical figure made their hearts skip a beat involuntarily. Over 150 billion US dollars in 1985 was a sum large enough to shake the economy of a small nation.

"What about the short contracts?" Li Ping'an walked back to the main trading desk, his eyes sweeping over the flashing screens.

Lin Wanyi stepped forward, speaking quickly and clearly: "We have established short positions in Nikkei 225 futures, major bank stocks, and real‑estate stocks through six international investment banks and three domestic Japanese securities firms. The leverage ratio is strictly as you demanded, held at 300 %. Margin is sufficient, but… Mr. Li, at this leverage level even a slight adverse market move would sharply amplify our risk."

A 300 % leverage.

It means they used their own capital as margin and borrowed three times that amount to short.

Profits would be tripled, losses likewise tripled—dancing on a blade's edge, a true high‑stakes gamble.

Li Ping'an's gaze fell on the slowly climbing Nikkei index line on the screen.

Over the past few years that line had traced an almost vertical, dizzying upward trajectory, as if it would never turn back.

Countless people had realized their wealth dreams thanks to that line, and all of Japan was intoxicated by the myth that "land never depreciates" and the frenzy of "Japan first."

"I know the risk," Li Ping'an said slowly, his voice carrying a strange certainty, "but after today there will be no adverse movement—at least, not the kind we fear."

His gaze shifted to the electronic clock.

20:55.

Five minutes left.

"Are the linked positions in New York, London, and Hong Kong in place?" he asked.

"All set," an international coordination researcher replied instantly. "According to the time difference and the market's expected path after the agreement is announced, our instructions are pre‑set. Once the signal here is confirmed, we will act globally in sync."

Li Ping'an nodded, then fell silent. He pulled up a chair and sat beside Zhou Wenbin, his eyes level with the main screen.

This simple act made everyone's heart leap to their throats—the boss personally taking charge of the trading desk meant the upcoming operation could not afford any mistake.

Time ticked by second by second.

Each second felt stretched out.

Fine beads of sweat appeared on Zhou Wenbin's forehead, which he dared not wipe.

Lin Wanyi unconsciously pinched the web of her thumb with her fingernail.

A young trader lifted his coffee cup to drink, but his hand shook so badly he had to set it down again.

Only Li Ping'an remained calm. He even picked up the cold tea again, gave it a gentle swirl, and watched the distorted screen light reflected in the cup.

The electronic clock's digits jumped to 21:00.

Almost at the same moment, a terminal dedicated to receiving Reuters and Bloomberg flashes emitted a soft "beep."

Immediately afterward, a red warning light in the corner of the screen began to flash rapidly!

Zhou Wenbin lurched forward, his eyes nearly touching the screen.

Lin Wanyi and the others instantly gathered around.

On the screen, a line of brief English news scrolled into view, like a cold poison snake slipping into the storm‑brewing room:

【Emergency Bulletin】The finance ministers and central bank governors of the United States, Japan, the United Kingdom, France, and West Germany reached an agreement at New York's Plaza Hotel, agreeing to jointly intervene in the foreign‑exchange market to guide an orderly depreciation of the dollar against major currencies, with a particularly notable target for depreciation against the yen……

The bulletin continued to scroll, but the key information was already clear.

"The Plaza Accord (PlazaAccord)" — a name that would leave a deep mark in later world economic history — now made its formal debut in a single cold telegram.

The room fell dead silent for an instant.

Immediately, Zhou Wenbin almost shouted: "Confirmed! It's the Plaza Accord! The dollar will sharply depreciate against the yen!"

Everyone in the room understood what that meant.

The yen would be forced to appreciate sharply!

The export‑driven Japanese economy will have its foundation shaken!

Profit forecasts for firms based on a low yen and export windfalls will worsen across the board!

And the Japanese stock and property markets that have been wildly hyped in recent years will develop a fundamental fissure in their price foundation!

"Act!" Li Ping'an's voice was not loud, yet like a drawn sword it cut through the brief hesitation.

"Yes!" Zhou Wenbin's finger struck the Enter key heavily.

The preset first batch of instructions, via a high‑speed data link, were instantly sent to the Tokyo Stock Exchange, Osaka Exchange, and various international futures markets.

On the screen, the numbers representing their short positions began to jump wildly.

At the same time, more terminal screens began to flash, as real‑time information from major global financial markets surged in like a tide.

In the Tokyo foreign‑exchange market, the USD/JPY exchange rate, hit by the agreement news, almost showed a cliff‑like straight‑line drop!

The Nikkei 225 futures, just opened for the night session, which had originally opened slightly higher, suddenly reversed, and a huge bearish candle slammed down!

"Shorts are being filled! Prices are falling fast!"

"Bank stocks are leading the decline! Mitsui, Sumitomo, Fuji… sell orders are surging!"

"Real‑estate stocks have collapsed! Tokyo Real Estate, Mitsubishi Estate… down more than five percent! No, seven percent!"

Traders suppressed their excitement, reporting as calmly as possible, but their trembling voices and shining eyes betrayed the inner turmoil.

The numbers on the screen jumped wildly; the green (in Japanese markets, down is usually shown in green) bearish candles grew longer and longer, each more glaring than the last.

That curve, which once looked unbreakable and ever‑rising, now seemed to have its spine pulled out, beginning to twist violently and painfully downward.

Lin Wan‑yi stared at the screen, quickly calculating: "For each percent the exchange rate falls, our FX short profit is about… for each 100‑point drop in the index, the futures short profit is about… adding leverage effect…"

Her voice grew faster, and the calculation made her own heart race.

That was not merely a profit figure.

It was the ruthless reaping of prey by a hunter after a precise ambush.

It was a dimensionality‑reduction strike based on a prophetic insight into historical context.

Li Ping'an watched all this in silence.

The screen's green light flickered on his face. Outside the rain seemed heavier, the patter on the windows dense like drumbeats, yet it could not drown out the keyboard clacks, report voices, and the silent yet mighty flow of numbers in the room.

His thoughts drifted for a moment.

He recalled a few years earlier, when he first stood on a Tokyo street, watching those arrogant Japanese officials proclaiming they would "buy America."

He recalled those late nights when gold and U. S. bills were "taken" from the bank vault.

He recalled the pieces he had quietly placed—those leverages, those shorts, those positions linked across global markets.

All the preparations, all the waiting, were for this moment.

For the historic turning point brought by this agreement.

The market's reaction was even more violent than expected.

Panic spread like a plague.

Although the agreement mainly concerns the exchange rate, the signal it sends is crystal clear: the United States will no longer tolerate huge trade deficits, and Japan's export‑dependent growth model will face a fundamental challenge.

For the Japanese stock and property markets, whose valuations are already sky‑high, this is tantamount to pulling the rug out from under them.

Sell off! Sell off without regard to cost!

On the screen, more and more sectors were falling, with ever‑larger drops. The Nikkei futures' limit‑down (circuit breaker) seemed about to be breached.

Zhou Wenbin's face no longer showed the initial tension, only a highly focused excitement.

He was like a symphony conductor, continually issuing new orders according to the market rhythm, adjusting positions to maximize profit while strictly controlling risk exposure.

"Keep adding shorts, concentrating on the over‑speculated real‑estate and financial sectors!"

"Some profit‑taking positions can be closed, to recoup funds and prepare for a possible technical rebound!"

"Monitor our brokers and counterparties to ensure settlement safety!"

In the breathless high‑speed operation, time arrived at dawn.

The rain had stopped at some point.

Outside the window, Tokyo's lights remained brilliant, but to those in the office, beneath that brilliance surged the panic, despair, and wealth turned to smoke of countless people.

Preliminary settlement figures came out.

Lin Wan‑yi walked up to Li Ping'an holding the freshly printed report still warm from the machine; her hand trembled slightly.

"Mr. Li… preliminary estimate: as of now, our short positions in the Japanese stock and FX markets have floating profits exceeding… over four billion dollars. This does not include gains from real‑estate‑related bonds and other derivatives."

Four billion dollars.

And this is only the beginning. The agreement's impact is long‑term; once the yen's appreciation trend is established, the adjustment of Japanese asset prices will not end in a day.

The room fell silent.

Everyone looked at Li Ping'an.

He took the report, glanced at it, his face still unperturbed, as if the astonishing numbers were merely an ordinary string of symbols.

"Notify the Hong Kong side," he said, setting the report down, his voice steady as usual, "Wanshang Bank is ready to receive the returning funds. At the same time, begin executing the second‑phase plan."

"Second phase?" Zhou Wenbin asked.

"Buy the dip." Li Ping'an spat out two words.

Amid somewhat bewildered glances, he walked to the window and pulled back the heavy curtains.

After the rain cleared, Tokyo's night sky was washed clean, revealing sparse stars.

The street below was empty, with occasional vehicles passing, kicking up tiny splashes.

This city, just swept by a financial hurricane, looked from this height still quiet, even seeming somewhat aloof.

"But not now." Li Ping'an gazed at the distant skyscraper outlines, "Let the bullets fly a while longer. Let the panic deepen further. What we want is not this bit of fluctuation profit."

He turned his head, his gaze sweeping over the tired yet excited faces in the room.

「What we want is, when these asset prices fall to their bottom, when the country's finest technology, talent, and enterprises suffocate due to dried-up cash flow……」

His tone was very light, yet it carried a force as decisive as cutting iron and nailing.

「With the money we earned today, we will cheaply buy their future。」

Outside the window, the east is already light; a new day is about to come.

As for Li Ping'an and his Wanshang Empire, an era belonging to them, even more vast and tumultuous, has only just begun to unfold.