6: Chapter 6 AI Deduction Saves the Day, Five Thousand Yuan in Hand

Lin Chen lifted his head, meeting Uncle Zhao's sharp and inquisitive eyes.

The fire of hope that had just ignited because Uncle Zhao had relented seemed to be doused by a bucket of ice water upon this core-piercing question, sizzling and flickering as if about to extinguish.

His knuckles were white as he gripped the scrap paper, his lips pressed into a pale, straight line. Thoughts collided madly in his mind—the AI's data, memories from his past life, the blank slate of social connections this body had in this life... Which one could he talk about? Which one would anyone believe if he did?

Anxiety burned in his heart, and cold sweat trickled down his temples.

He could almost hear the hissing sound of his reason stretched to its breaking point.

Just as that string was about to snap, an almost instinctive thought cut through the chaos: If you can't explain the source, then strengthen the logic and the results!

In the depths of his heart, he used all his will to roar at the silent auxiliary unit: "Generate! Generate the simplest causal chain that he can understand! Now!"

Almost the moment his will was cast, a few lines of clear, plain text, devoid of any technical jargon, like a carefully refined briefing, were directly "imprinted" into his consciousness:

【Simplified Event Deduction Logic Chain:】

【1. Core Conflict: Iraq and Kuwait have long-standing territorial and oil interest disputes (historical events can be verified).】

【2. Current Status: The frequency and intensity of recent armed conflicts on the border between the two countries have exceeded the total of the past three years (recent news can verify).】

【3. Inevitable Development: The conflict has intensified to a critical point. Based on conflict escalation model projections, the probability of a full-scale war breaking out within a week exceeds 85%.】

【4. Chain Reaction: War will directly damage/threaten the export facilities and shipping lanes in the core oil-producing region of the Persian Gulf.】

【5. Final Impact: A definite shortfall in global crude oil supply will emerge. The supply-demand imbalance will cause international oil prices to soar in the short term (estimated 1-4 weeks), with a benchmark increase forecast of 30% - 50%. This is a deterministic market fluctuation driven by geopolitical events, not pure speculation.】

There were no fancy charts, no complex numbers, only a causal chain so clear it was almost cold. Like a scalpel, it dissected the core drivers beneath the chaotic appearance.

Lin Chen's nerves, stretched to the limit, loosened slightly because of this sudden "clarity." He took a deep breath; the air was no longer entirely filled with panic, but carried a hint of forcefully gathered focus.

He lifted his eyes and looked at Uncle Zhao again. This time, he deliberately slowed his speech, striving for clarity and stability in every word, as if he wanted to carve that logical chain into the air:

"Uncle Zhao, Iraq and Kuwait have been fighting and arguing over the oil fields on their border for a long time. This has been reported in the newspapers before." He first established a baseline that both parties might know.

"But it's different now." His fingertips fell back onto the scrawled date and location markings on the paper. "Just these past few days, they've already started fighting for real on the border, and the scale is much larger than before. Things have reached a point where it's like a lit powder keg—it can't be contained. Within a few days, it will definitely explode into a full-scale war."

He observed Uncle Zhao's expression. The other man's brow was still tightly furrowed, but the pure skepticism in his eyes seemed to be slightly replaced by a focus of "listening to what he has to say."

"Once they start fighting," Lin Chen continued, his voice steady but carrying an unquestionable force, "that region is the lifeline for exporting oil. Once the fires of war burn, oil wells, ports, and oil tankers will all have to shut down. The United States and other countries that rely on imported oil cannot just sit by and watch, but help from afar won't solve the immediate thirst."

"The result is obvious: the oil available to the whole world will suddenly drop by a large chunk. When things become scarce, prices will definitely rise. This isn't fortune-telling, and it isn't gambling, Uncle Zhao." He leaned forward slightly, his gaze burning. "This is arithmetic; it's an ironclad truth. All I need to do is use a little capital to take a position before this 'price hike' happens. Once the price goes up, I'll sell immediately. The money I'll make is from this difference in time and information."

"I'm only borrowing a startup sum. The first thing I'll do once I earn money is pay off Marcus's hellish debt, and then I'll pay you back the rest, with interest, as soon as possible. I absolutely won't be greedy; I'll stop while I'm ahead." In his words, the initial urgency and stuttering had faded, leaving only a calmness and sincerity born from being forced into a desperate situation, almost like burning his bridges.

Uncle Zhao listened silently, without interrupting. The wrinkles on his face appeared deeper in the dimming daylight. Outside the window, the clamor of Chinatown seemed to have quieted down; the shops and the red lanterns at their entrances lit up one after another. The warm red halos of light filtered through the not-too-clean shop window glass, softly spreading over the greasy counter, casting a hazy, slightly melancholic warmth over this small shop full of realistic anxieties.

Time flowed in silence. Uncle Zhao's gaze lingered on Lin Chen's face for a long time, as if scrutinizing the weight of every word he spoke, and even more so, weighing where the extraordinary certainty in the eyes of this child—whom he had watched grow up and who always seemed to timidly hide behind his parents—came from.

He remembered that stormy night many years ago when floodwater had backed up. It was Lin Chen's father who had brought a half-grown Lin Chen, braving the rain to help him block the door and move goods. They were soaked to the bone, yet they left without even drinking a cup of hot tea. The promise, "Brother Lin, I will remember this favor for a lifetime," still echoed in his ears.

He looked again at the rusty iron box held tightly in his hands. Inside was the hard-earned money he and his wife had saved, penny by penny, working from dawn till dusk. It was their funeral fund, their security for emergencies. If he lent it out, it might just go down the drain.

But...

The light in the child's eyes before him, the despair he tried so hard to hide but which still shone through, and that "logic" which sounded surprisingly coherent and not like empty, made-up nonsense...

Finally, Uncle Zhao sighed very lightly, almost inaudibly. In that sigh, there was helplessness, worry, and even more so, a sense of finality.

"You... this stubborn streak of yours, it's exactly like your father's." He shook his head, his tense shoulders relaxing, and his long-furrowed brow smoothed out a little.

He hesitated no longer. In front of Lin Chen, he used the small, scratched key to open the iron box with a "click." Inside were neatly stacked US dollar bills, mostly in denominations of twenty, ten, and even five, their edges soft and curled from repeated counting. He carefully counted out a thick stack, double-checked it twice, and then carefully bundled it with an ordinary rubber band.

He placed the bundle of money on the counter and pushed it toward Lin Chen. The movement was slow and solemn.

"Here is five thousand. Little Chen, you've seen Uncle Zhao's shop; what I earn is just small change from the neighbors. This five thousand is the limit of what Uncle Zhao can take out." His voice was low and serious. "I couldn't squeeze out even a penny more."

Lin Chen's pupils suddenly constricted, and his breathing stopped for an instant. He stared fixedly at the stack of gray-green banknotes on the counter, as if it were an illusion. It took a full few seconds for him to react; his hands trembled slightly and uncontrollably as he reached out, his fingertips pausing just before touching the money, and then, with extreme care and solemnity, he lifted them up.

The texture of the banknotes was rough and real, carrying the unique scent of old paper and the slightly warm temperature of Uncle Zhao's palms. The weight was lighter than he imagined, but the hope it carried was as heavy as a thousand jun.

"Uncle Zhao..." When the voice came out, it was already choked with emotion. He bit his lower lip hard, forcing back the burning heat that suddenly welled up in his eyes, leaving only red-rimmed eyes and a trembling voice. "This money... I will definitely pay it back! With interest! I swear, I will never let you down!"

He turned around, eager to find pen and paper to write an IOU, his movements hurried.

"Stop." Uncle Zhao raised his hand to stop him, his tone unquestionable. "Don't worry about the IOU for now. Your mind is chaotic, and you won't be able to write it clearly. Remembering this is more important than white paper and black ink." He walked around the counter to stand in front of Lin Chen, his rough palm pressing firmly on Lin Chen's thin shoulder, looking at him with deep eyes:

"Little Chen, listen to Uncle Zhao. The money, Uncle Zhao is lending it to you for the sake of your parents, and also because you are truly at a dead end. But what Uncle Zhao wants to see more is for you to be able to safely get through this difficult time."

"Making money is important, but your life is more important! No matter what kind of 'futures' you are doing, remember, the moment you see signs that things are wrong, stop immediately! Even if you lose a little, don't risk everything! As long as the green hills remain, you don't have to worry about running out of firewood, understand?"

Lin Chen nodded vigorously, his throat choked, and he could only let out a heavy "Mm."

"Also," Uncle Zhao lowered his voice a little, "over in the city center, near Broadway, there are a few foreign trading companies. I've heard that one or two of them have Chinese people working as staff or brokers. When you go there to open an account or handle business, if there's anything you don't understand, or if you feel something is wrong, at least you can find someone you can talk to and ask for directions, so you won't be completely in the dark and at the mercy of others. In everything, keep an extra eye out."

"I'll remember it, Uncle Zhao. I'll remember everything." Lin Chen carved every word into his heart.

He carefully tucked the five thousand dollars into a deep pocket with a hidden clasp inside his pants, pressed it firmly to feel its solid touch. Then, he took a step back and bowed deeply to Uncle Zhao, nearly ninety degrees. His back was straight, and he didn't lift it for a long time.

Uncle Zhao waved his hand; the worry in his eyes hadn't dissipated, but there was more complex warmth: "Go. While it's not completely dark yet, be careful on the road. Get things... done properly."

Lin Chen straightened up, took one last look at Uncle Zhao, tucked that touch of worry and warmth into his heart, turned around, and pushed open the wooden door of the Grocery Store.

The evening breeze rushed toward him, carrying the unique scent of Chinatown—a mix of food aromas and faint coal smoke. Lin Chen subconsciously gripped the area of his inner pocket, where it felt heavy. The boulder that had been pressing on his heart for many days seemed to have been pried open a crack, letting in a glimmer of light, and even his footsteps seemed a little lighter, despite the road ahead remaining uncertain.

He identified the direction and walked toward the other end of the main street, preparing to head to the city center.

Just as he had walked a dozen steps and was about to turn out of this relatively quiet side street and merge into the slightly brighter and noisier crowd of the main street—

【Notification: Detected a persistent, slow-moving target following from about ten meters behind. Behavioral pattern analysis: Not just passing by, presence of hidden intent. Suggestion: Increase vigilance.】

The cold text notification pierced his field of vision without warning.

Lin Chen's heart contracted violently, and the nerves that had just relaxed slightly instantly tightened again like a bowstring. He didn't turn his head immediately, but using the blurry reflection of a shop window, he cast a quick glance backward out of the corner of his eye—

Under the interlacing light and shadow of the dim streetlights and shop lanterns, a blurry dark figure, huddled in the shadow of the alley entrance, seemed to have also stopped the moment he paused.

A chill quietly crept up his spine.