14: Chapter 14: Reducing Positions to Lock in Profits and Pay Off Debts; Account Under Scrutiny

Lin Chen stared at the AI's prompt, his heart feeling as if it were being fiercely gripped by an invisible hand, tightening abruptly. There was no time for panic, no time for thought. Muscle memory took over his body instantly.

He took out his phone, the cold light from the screen illuminating his tense jaw. His fingertips were cold and trembling from extreme tension, but his taps on the screen were exceptionally precise, without a hint of hesitation. Unlock, enter the futures app, find position management, select "partial close," check 50% of the position, confirm. A series of actions completed in seconds, fluid to the point of coldness.

In the dim warehouse, the phone screen was the only light source, reflecting on his pale face, which appeared exceptionally calm due to extreme focus. In the old bowl in the corner, leftover rice grains had long since dried and hardened. Outside the vent, the sky was shifting from deep black to a dull leaden gray; thin morning light seeped in stingily, barely outlining the contours of the piled-up debris.

【 Command executed successfully. 50% of NYMEX crude oil futures long position closed. 】

【 Profit successfully locked: $25,112.40 USD. 】

【 Remaining position floating profit: $8,245.80 USD. 】

【 Market observation: Selling pressure initially released, price finding support near $18.20/barrel, entering narrow oscillation. Suggestion: Closely monitor remaining position, guard against secondary downside risk. 】

The cold mechanical voice fell silent. Almost simultaneously, the green curve on the phone screen, which had been viciously plunging just a moment ago, suddenly halted its decline and began to fluctuate slightly at a low level, like a beast temporarily subdued, letting out reluctant gasps.

Only then did Lin Chen feel his lungs burning, as if he had forgotten to breathe the whole time. He let out a heavy, long sigh, the breath condensing into white mist in the cold air. His palms were covered in cold sweat; he wiped them hard on his pant legs, his fingertips still gripping the phone tightly as if it were his only real anchor. In his eyes, immense relief and lingering fear were intertwined and surging.

Fortunately... he had listened to the advice. A few seconds later, it might have been a completely different situation.

Outside the warehouse, Chinatown was waking up from its slumber. Various sounds came from near and far, from sparse to dense, passing through the thin walls and vents: the "rumbling" of wooden cart wheels rolling over cobblestones, the clatter of rolling shutters being pulled up with force, the sleepy, tentative first shouts of early vendors, and the gradually spreading "sizzling" of food frying on iron plates and the white steam of boiling water... A living, breathing day full of the hustle and bustle of life was descending. This formed two distinct worlds with the solidified silence and cold, lingering fear inside the warehouse.

Lin Chen's gaze did not leave the screen. Confirming that the oil price had temporarily stabilized and showed no signs of continuing to plummet, the panic he had forcibly suppressed slowly receded, replaced by an exhaustion akin to collapse, and... a stronger urge to grasp something real.

His fingertips slid, exiting the market interface and entering the capital account. Looking at the reassuring "$25,112.40" following the "Available for Withdrawal Balance," he entered "10000" without hesitation and clicked "Transfer to Linked Account."

This money, he had to repay a portion first. Repay Uncle Zhao. This thought was incredibly clear, overriding everything else.

He took a deep breath, stood up, pushed open the door of the storage room, and walked quickly toward the front shop. His steps were a bit unsteady due to urgency, but his eyes were clear.

"Uncle Zhao! Uncle Zhao!"

Uncle Zhao was in the front shop tidying up the shelves that had been messed up by Marcus's subordinates last night, bending down to pick up soap and sewing kits scattered on the floor. Hearing the shout, he straightened up and turned his head, his face wearing its usual gentleness, but with a trace of lingering fatigue between his brows. "Little Chen? What's wrong? Why is your complexion again..." He put down what he was holding, a rag draped over his shoulder.

Lin Chen walked quickly to the counter and turned the phone screen toward Uncle Zhao, showing the just-completed transfer confirmation interface and the still-shocking total account balance. "Uncle Zhao, look! I... I just followed the prompt and locked in the profit! Twenty-five thousand! I'm transferring ten thousand to you first, to pay back what you lent me before! Really, you must accept it!"

His tone was fast and urgent, mixed with the excitement of surviving a disaster and unyielding insistence.

Uncle Zhao looked down at the screen; the string of numbers clearly stunned him for a moment. But he immediately shook his head, his voice steady, carrying the unique, soothing strength of an elder: "Little Chen, Uncle Zhao appreciates your heart. But keep this money for yourself first. Marcus and his gang haven't stopped yet; you need to keep more money on you for self-defense, in case..."

"There is no 'in case'!" Lin Chen interrupted him, his voice raised slightly, his eyes filled with almost stubborn earnestness, "Uncle Zhao, if it weren't for your five thousand dollars back then, I wouldn't have been able to see today! Now that I have some ability, the first thing is to repay your kindness! You must accept this money! Otherwise, I... I won't be able to live with my conscience!" Because of his excitement, his cheeks were slightly flushed.

Just then, a familiar vendor pushing a breakfast cart passed by the door, shouting inside through the glass door: "Old Zhao, morning! Oh, Little Chen is here too? Good spirits!"

Uncle Zhao immediately put on a smile and waved at the door: "Morning! Thanks to you!" Then he turned back, looking at Lin Chen's eyes, which were so urgent they were almost popping out, and sighed helplessly, the sigh containing both concern and compromise. "You child... why are you so stubborn."

"I'm not being stubborn, Uncle Zhao," Lin Chen's voice lowered, but it was firmer, "I'm really... I really don't know how to thank you. Just treat it as letting me have peace of mind, okay? As for the remaining money, after the storm completely passes and I've earned steadily, I'll plan slowly. But this first sum, you must accept it."

Uncle Zhao was silent, his gaze lingering for a moment on Lin Chen's young face, which was full of persistence, and then sweeping over the string of numbers on the screen that represented a "lifeline." Finally, he nodded slowly and reached out, not to take the phone, but to gently pat Lin Chen's still-thin shoulder. "Okay... Uncle Zhao knows. I'll keep this money for you, save it, and won't touch it. When you are truly stable, take it out and do whatever you need to do. For now, it's still your emergency money, just kept with Uncle Zhao, okay?"

This was the biggest concession Uncle Zhao could make, a detour full of protective meaning. Lin Chen understood; he looked at the unquestionable concern in Uncle Zhao's eyes, his nose felt sore again, and he nodded heavily: "Okay! Thank you, Uncle Zhao!"

"Silly talk." Uncle Zhao smiled, turned around, and took out that familiar, rusted little iron box from under the counter. He opened it but didn't put the money in immediately, just set it aside. "You go back and rest, don't come out. I'll go heat up breakfast and bring it to you."

"Okay!" Lin Chen responded, watching Uncle Zhao pick up the iron box and walk toward the back room. The huge boulder in his heart regarding the debt was finally pried open and rolled aside. He felt his steps were much lighter, and he turned back to the backyard warehouse.

Sitting down again in the corner of the storage room, he lit up his phone again and brought up the futures app. The profit on the remaining position was fluctuating slightly, but overall stable. He relaxed a little, leaning against the cold wall, and let out a long breath.

In the gap while waiting for Uncle Zhao to bring food, to calm his mind and also out of habit, he casually clicked on the account's "Transaction History," wanting to review the thrilling position-reduction operation just now and confirm the details.

His fingertips slid across the screen, his gaze sweeping over the records: the initial position opening, the huge profit, and then the decisive 50% closing just moments ago... The records were clear, accurate to the last digit.

However, just as his gaze was about to move away, a record below, like a tiny ice thorn, pierced his line of sight without warning.

Transaction time: Just about three minutes after he reduced his position.

Transaction product: NYMEX crude oil futures.

Transaction direction: Long position (same as his).

Transaction amount: $427.18.

No remarks. No corresponding operation in his memory.

This record lay there quietly, the amount not large, even somewhat insignificant, easily overlooked when sandwiched between transactions of thousands or tens of thousands of dollars. But the time it appeared, its direction completely identical to his position... it reeked of an indescribable eeriness.

Lin Chen's brow furrowed. His fingertips hovered over that record.

Was it a system error? Synchronization delay? Or... did he accidentally touch it while he was distracted?

He clicked on the record details, but the page only showed the most basic information: time, product, direction, amount. No counterparty information, no more specific contract number, as if it had been deliberately simplified.

"Strange..." he muttered to himself, shaking his head, trying to attribute this small anomaly to a technical glitch. After all, having just experienced a violent surge and crash and a life-and-death pursuit, a small system problem seemed plausible. He closed the transaction history page and switched back to the real-time market.

The oil price was still oscillating in a narrow range, red and green intertwined, making one feel drowsy. The sounds of the city outside became increasingly clamorous, making this small warehouse even quieter. Lin Chen leaned against the cardboard boxes, his eyelids gradually growing heavy; the continuous high tension and lack of sleep began to take their toll...

Buzz—!!!

The phone in his hand, without warning, vibrated violently with a frequency that was almost spasmodic and crazy! It wasn't a message; it was the highest-level alert vibration!

At the same time, his entire field of vision, including the phone screen, was instantly swallowed by an unprecedented, deep red blood light pulsing with ominousness! The red light was so piercing, so urgent, as if it burned directly from his retinas into his brain!

A huge, red warning box with constantly twisting and expanding edges, accompanied by a cold, synthetic sound that seemed to want to pierce his skull, exploded forcefully:

【 Highest-level security alert!!! 】

【 Unauthorized monitoring protocol intrusion detected! 】

【 Warning: Your futures account (ID: ***) is under continuous, highly covert background monitoring! 】

【 Monitored content includes: real-time positions, fund changes, all historical and current transaction records! 】

【 Monitoring source: Unknown. Intrusion path: Highly disguised. Threat level: Fatal! 】

【 Emergency suggestion: Immediately terminate all trading operations! Disconnect from the network! Beware of any abnormal fund movements and personal information leakage risks! Repeat: Take physical isolation measures immediately! 】

The trace of exhaustion that had just appeared on Lin Chen's face due to relaxation instantly froze, then shattered.

He felt as if he had been instantly thrown into an ice cave, a bone-chilling coldness rushing from his tailbone up to the top of his head, his blood seeming to stop flowing. His fingertips were stiff, and he almost dropped the phone again.

He had just thought he had found a temporary respite in the real world (Marcus) and the financial market (the crash)...

But he hadn't expected that the deepest, most invisible threat had long since sneaked into his digital world like a ghost, spying on his every move, and perhaps... even manipulated that strange $427.18 transaction?

Who was it?

Manager Zhang Yuan? The futures company? Did Marcus have someone tech-savvy behind him? Or... that shadow that had always been silently following in the dark?

In the front hall of the Grocery Store, the reassuring, faint sound of Uncle Zhao setting out bowls and chopsticks could be heard.

In the backyard warehouse, there was dead silence. Only the scarlet warning on the phone screen that pulsed continuously as if flowing with fresh blood, and the cold, immense terror reflected in Lin Chen's pupils, which had suddenly contracted to the extreme.