Chapter 415: Answer the Emperor

Ye Ning hung up the phone.

The lingering echo of "one hour later, Mr. Lu will spare ten minutes" still drifted through the apartment, like a feather gently scratching each person's eardrum, yet it brought a quake like a mountain collapsing.

David Cohen's body went limp, collapsing completely onto the sofa; he tilted his head, stared at the ornate crystal chandelier on the ceiling, and murmured in a dream‑like whisper.

"I must be dreaming… I must have fallen asleep in a Wharton School lecture and had an absurd, nonsensical dream…"

All the elite education he had received in his life had been telling him what the surname Rockefeller represented.

It was order, it was rules, it was the apex of the pyramid.

And now someone was treating the pyramid's tip as a brick they could trample at will.

Lu Qingjun let out a low "gudong" sound, swallowed, moved up beside Lu Qingshan, lowered his voice, his face a complex mix of worship and worry.

"Brother, you really want to leave him hanging for an hour? What if he runs away? He's got a big background."

Lu Qingshan glanced at him and gave a displeased smile.

"Do you think this is like buying cabbage at a market where you can haggle? If he can't reach me today, Morgan Stanley will be on the front page tomorrow; I've already thought up the headline: 'Wall Street Titan CEO Commits Murder, Century‑Old Investment Bank May Collapse Overnight.'"

He walked to the bar and poured a glass of champagne for each person.

"Take it."

The others instinctively took the glasses; the cold glass against their fingers was the only thing that made them feel something real.

"What you're all just standing around doing? This hour isn't for goofing off."

Lu Qingshan lifted his own glass, scanning the team whose worldview he had completely upended.

"Everyone, speak up—after an hour, what should we demand from Mr. Rockefeller?"

The question, like a stone tossed onto a calm lake, instantly set the still air swirling again.

"Money!" David blurted out, springing up from the sofa; the commercial instinct in his Jewish blood was instantly triggered. "Demand a huge sum! A hush‑money! Compensation for mental damage! We were almost 'cleared the scene'! Ask for one hundred billion! No—two hundred billion dollars!"

Greed flashed in his eyes, as if he already saw mountains of dollars piled up.

"Superficial." Li Junjie adjusted his glasses, calmly countered, "Money is the most worthless thing. The cards we hold now are Morgan Stanley's life and death. Exchanging them for cash would be a huge loss."

He looked at Lu Qingshan and analyzed with clear logic.

"I think our core demand should revolve around our positioning in the Subprime market. First, we can require Morgan Stanley and the funds linked to it to immediately stop buying long on MBS and CDOs, and even go short, becoming our allied forces."

"Second, we can demand they use their influence over rating agencies to first downgrade the ratings of several key CDOs, tearing a hole in the whole market!"

Zhang Qianru also spoke, her line of thought leaning more toward legal and regulatory angles.

"I agree with Li Junjie's view. In addition, we can demand the Morgan Stanley board publicly apologize to Prospector Capital. Moreover, during the ensuing market turbulence, provide us with every compliant convenience, including but not limited to priority trading channels and unlimited credit lines."

"That would be like planting our own special forces in the heart of Wall Street!"

For a moment, the apartment buzzed with discussion.

Everyone, from their professional perspectives, put forward extremely tempting conditions.

Any single one of these conditions alone would be enough to make any fund on Wall Street drool three feet.

Lu Qingshan said nothing; he simply listened quietly, letting the team's thoughts diverge.

Only after everyone finished did he gently shake his glass, the golden liquid tracing a graceful arc along the cup wall.

"What you've said is all good."

He paused, then changed tack.

"But the scope is too small."

Everyone was stunned, looking at him in confusion.

Lu Qingshan walked to the massive floor‑to‑ceiling window, where a web of connections and names painted across it looked shocking under the lights.

He pointed his finger, running over the names "Morgan Stanley," "Goldman Sachs," "Lehman Brothers" one by one.

"What you're thinking is how to win this battle. What I'm thinking is how to use the victory of this battle to win the whole war."

He turned and faced the crowd.

"Money? Morgan Stanley's position? Rating agencies' compromise? Those are spoils, not our goal."

"Our goal, from the start, was never Wall Street."

Lu Qingshan's words made Li Junjie and Zhang Qianru's bodies tremble slightly.

They seemed to have grasped something, yet it remained shrouded in mist.

"Minister Wang says we are 'Pathfinders.'" Lu Qingshan's voice deepened and grew powerful, "So what is a Pathfinder's mission? To scout the road for the main force behind us, find the weakest breach, and then… erect a bridgehead that everyone can see!"

He spoke each word deliberately, each striking the hearts of those present.

"What I want isn't Rockefeller's charity, nor Morgan Stanley's compensation."

"What I want is Prospector Capital to, from now on, hold a legal, universally recognized and revered 'license' on Wall Street!"

"A license that can be freely bought and sold, freely shorted, and even legally used to target any American company's 'hunting license'!"

"I will make everyone on Wall Street, from Rockefeller down to the lowest‑level traders, understand one truth. Prospector Capital can do what they dare not, can earn money they dare not earn. You may hate us, but you must fear us, and you cannot move us!"

David Cohen's breathing stopped.

He finally understood.

What Lu Qingshan wanted wasn't fish.

He wanted the right to harvest the entire ocean, where he could fish at will!

This was no longer a business negotiation.

This was demanding a "extraterritorial jurisdiction" personally granted by the American capital emperor!

"Brother… can they even agree to this?" Lu Qingjun's heart pounded, feeling his brother's request was sheer fantasy.

"They will." Lu Qingshan said confidently.

"Because John Parker dared to send assassins to 'clear' me today; tomorrow, another Parker will dare to 'clear' the Rockefeller family's opponents."

"Once Pandora's box is opened, the first to be back‑fired upon are the very rule‑makers themselves."

So, he needs to kill a chicken to scare the monkeys even more than we do. He needs an 'outsider' to play the fiercest 'chicken', to warn all the monkeys on Wall Street.

And we are the best chicken.

Lu Qingshan raised his cup and drank it all in one gulp.

Now, everyone get ready. Ye Ning, you're in charge of the main talk. Li Junjie, David, Qianru, you handle supplementing the technical details and legal terms.

He glanced at his watch.

In forty minutes, His Majesty the Emperor will be calling.

Time passed minute by minute.

The atmosphere in the apartment shifted from the earlier frenzy and shock to a state of highly focused battle readiness.

No one spoke; each person, lost in their own mind, frantically rehearsed the impending century-defining negotiation.

Finally, one minute before the appointed time.

Ye Ning's encrypted communicator rang on schedule, for the third time.

She answered and turned on the speakerphone.

In the whole room, only the suppressed breathing of everyone could be heard.

On the other end of the line, it was still that polite London accent.

"Ms. Ye, good afternoon. Mr. David Rockefeller is already on the line; may I ask if Mr. Lu is available now?"

Ye Ning glanced at Lu Qingshan.

Lu Qingshan adjusted his collar, walked to the phone, and, in a tone as plain as asking a neighbor 'Have you eaten?', spoke the first words into the receiver.

"Mr. Rockefeller, hello, I am Lu Qingshan."