8: Chapter 8: A Chinese guy helps people open an account, and oil prices immediately rise!

Lin Chen froze at the cold glass door of the futures firm, his hand still gripping the metal handle, the chill from the metal seeping into his very soul.

That clear Chinese greeting was like a stone thrown into a stagnant pool, stirring a faint but real ripple in a heart filled with shame and fear.

He hesitated, and with extreme slowness, turned around.

The Chinese man, wearing a well-fitted black suit and thin-rimmed glasses, stood just a few meters away with a gentle and measured smile on his face.

His gaze landed calmly on Lin Chen, lacking the scanning scrutiny or undisguised contempt that others in the lobby showed toward goods. Instead, it was as if he were looking at a visitor who had stumbled in by accident and was somewhat at a loss, carrying a hint of professional observation and... perhaps a subtle understanding of meeting a fellow Chinese person by chance in a foreign financial palace?

The man stepped forward quickly, stopped a step away from Lin Chen, and took the initiative to reach out his hand.

His smile was kind and natural, effectively bridging the distance: "Little brother, don't be nervous. I am Manager Zhang Yuan, the account manager here. I saw you hesitating at the door just now; are you here for business, and did you encounter something you didn't understand?"

His Mandarin was standard, with a faint, indiscernible southern accent, which seemed exceptionally clear in the lobby filled with English conversation, and made Lin Chen feel an inexplicable, clumsy sense of closeness.

Lin Chen stared at that clean, slender hand reaching out and was stunned for a moment.

Subconsciously, he wiped his sweaty palm on his rough pant leg before carefully extending his own hand, shaking it lightly, and pulling it back as if electrocuted.

His hand was cold, while the other's hand was dry and warm.

"I... I... want to open an account."

His voice was thin, still carrying an uncontrollable tremor. After finishing the sentence, he habitually wanted to lower his head to avoid the other's gaze.

Manager Zhang Yuan clearly captured his nervousness and embarrassment.

He withdrew his hand, not minding, just nodding slightly with his smile undiminished and his tone even gentler: "Understood. There are people coming and going here, so it's not convenient to talk. Come with me; we'll go to the reception room next door. It's quieter there. You can tell me about any questions you have slowly; there's no rush."

He turned sideways and made a guiding gesture, his posture professional and considerate, deliberately avoiding the direction of the few white clients in the sofa area who were still whispering and casting mocking glances from time to time.

Lin Chen felt as if he had been granted an amnesty and followed Manager Zhang Yuan's footsteps almost immediately.

He still kept his head down, but his footsteps were no longer as unsteady and panicked as before.

Behind him, he could still vaguely hear those low but harsh discussions, but because there was a figure in front of him to follow—someone who spoke the same language—the suffocating sense of isolation was finally torn open.

The reception room was small and simply furnished.

There were light-colored wooden tables and chairs, and several necessary compliance notices and risk warnings were posted on the wall (one red notice about the high risk of futures trading was particularly eye-catching).

In the corner, a small printer was quietly on standby.

The blinds were half-closed, filtering out the overly bright and cold light from outside, making the room appear soft and private.

On the table, a cup of warm water was already prepared, slightly steaming.

"Sit, drink some water first, and relax."

Manager Zhang Yuan gestured for Lin Chen to sit in the guest seat, while he sat opposite and placed the folder in his hand gently on the table.

"No need to rush, speak slowly. What type of account do you want to open? How much do you know about futures?"

His tone was guiding rather than interrogative.

As the warm water went down his throat, his dry and tight throat was relieved.

Lin Chen held the cup with both hands, drawing a bit of warmth from it, and mustered the courage to lift his head to look at Manager Zhang Yuan.

The gaze behind the other's lenses was calm and focused, without urging or impatience.

"Manager Zhang Yuan," he licked his still-dry lips, trying to make his voice steadier, "I want to open an account to trade... oil futures."

"Oil futures?"

Manager Zhang Yuan's eyebrows twitched almost imperceptibly, his body leaning slightly forward, his expression becoming a bit more serious, losing the pure politeness from earlier.

"Little brother, I must confirm this with you first. Futures trading, especially for commodities like crude oil that are closely linked to international politics and economics, has a very high risk level. Price fluctuations are violent, and you could suffer huge losses in a short time, or even... lose all your principal. This is not a bank deposit. Are you sure you understand the risks involved and can bear the potential losses?"

His tone was sincere, a necessary compliance reminder, but also carried professional caution.

Lin Chen nodded vigorously, the panic in his eyes gradually replaced by a desperate determination: "I know there are risks, Manager Zhang Yuan. I am not... not here to gamble."

He took a deep breath, deciding to tell part of the truth in exchange for trust.

"I urgently need money, I owe... some debts, and I must pay them back as soon as possible. This five thousand dollars," he subconsciously pressed the pocket inside his chest, "is my last hope. I have studied it and think... I think oil has an opportunity."

"Five thousand dollars?"

Manager Zhang Yuan's gaze lingered on Lin Chen's washed-out collar for a moment before returning to his face, his brows slightly knitted.

"This amount is likely not a small sum for you. The crude oil market fundamentals have been relatively stable recently with low volatility, and many experienced traders are on the sidelines. Did you... receive some special news, or is this based on your own analysis?"

His question was direct, serving as both a risk warning and a probe.

In this industry, he had seen too many novices blindly following trends.

Lin Chen did not avoid the question.

He took that crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket again, his movements much steadier this time.

He spread the paper on the table and pushed it toward Manager Zhang Yuan, pointing his fingertip at the keywords and data recorded scrawled on it: "Manager Zhang Yuan, look. Iraq, Kuwait, the border conflict has been escalating, and troops are mobilizing. This is not small friction; my judgment is... it will soon evolve into a larger-scale conflict. The United States... and other countries that rely on Middle Eastern oil cannot sit idly by. Once the situation worsens, exports from major oil-producing regions will inevitably be affected."

Although his words still carried the rawness of a youth, the logic was clear and the points were specific, even mentioning the potential impact of geopolitics on the supply side.

This was completely unlike the excuses a street youth who knew nothing about finance could make up on the spot.

Manager Zhang Yuan picked up the paper and quickly scanned the messy but key information points (dates, locations, descriptions of troop movements, simple supply-demand arrows).

His expression didn't change much, but a flash of surprise crossed his eyes.

In his many years in the industry, he had seen all kinds of clients—gamblers betting on feelings, followers listening to gossip, and professionals operating based on rigorous models.

But this was the first time he had seen a young man like the one before him—shabbily dressed, nervous in demeanor, yet bringing such targeted and logical (albeit rough) fundamental analysis.

He gently put the paper down and raised his eyes to size up Lin Chen again.

In the youth's eyes, there was nervousness and pleading, but deep down there was also a desperate determination, and... a strange kind of "certainty" that didn't match his age and situation.

This certainty was not blind arrogance; it was more like "knowing" about something that would inevitably happen.

Silence spread in the small reception room for a few seconds.

The printer occasionally made a faint humming sound.

Finally, Manager Zhang Yuan let out a soft breath, leaned back, and relaxed his posture slightly.

"Alright," he began, his voice returning to the gentleness from before but with more solemnity, "I can help you with the account opening process. However," he emphasized his tone, "there are a few things I must say upfront; this is also my duty. First, the geopolitical risk you mentioned is indeed discussed sporadically in the market, but there is no consensus, and the price has not fully reflected it yet. Your judgment might be right, or it might be wrong, or the timing might be off. Second, even if you are right about the direction, the volatility in the futures market can far exceed your imagination; leverage will amplify profits, but it will even more amplify losses. You must set a strict stop-loss point and execute it resolutely. You must absolutely not have the mentality of 'holding on for a bit,' understand?"

Lin Chen nodded vigorously, almost wanting to stand up: "I understand, Manager Zhang Yuan! I will definitely be careful and will never be greedy. Once I earn enough to pay off the debt, I will get out!"

His eagerness and sincerity were obvious.

Manager Zhang Yuan waved his hand, signaling him to sit down.

"Just call me Brother Zhang; there are not many Chinese colleagues here, so you don't need to be so formal."

He paused, seemingly choosing his words, "Since you have made up your mind and have done your homework, I will help you. If you are unsure about subsequent operations, you can ask me. But remember, any advice is for reference only; you must bear the decisions and risks yourself."

"Thank you! Thank you, Brother Zhang!"

Lin Chen quickly stood up, bowed to Manager Zhang Yuan, his tone filled with gratitude.

"Sit down, sit down," Manager Zhang Yuan smiled, got up, and took a stack of forms from the filing cabinet nearby.

"Come, let's fill out these account opening documents first. I will explain to you slowly if there are any parts you don't quite understand."

In the time that followed, Manager Zhang Yuan showed great patience.

He explained the items on the forms in Chinese one by one, avoiding obscure technical terms and using the most straightforward language to explain what each paragraph of the risk disclosure statement meant.

He guided Lin Chen to fill in his personal information, set his account password, and repeatedly emphasized the importance of confidentiality.

Throughout the process, Manager Zhang Yuan's attitude was professional and meticulous, without any perfunctoriness.

The forms were filled out, and the identity documents were verified.

Manager Zhang Yuan operated the computer for a moment, and the printer spat out an account confirmation slip that smelled of ink.

"Alright, the account has been opened. Now you need to transfer the funds into this designated account."

Manager Zhang Yuan handed the confirmation slip and a note with the account information to Lin Chen, pointing out the account number and remittance path on it.

Lin Chen took it carefully, read it over, and then took out the bundle of five thousand dollars tied with a rubber band from his pocket.

He counted it again to be sure, and then followed Manager Zhang Yuan's guidance to complete the transfer operation.

When his phone screen lit up, showing the "Transfer Successful" prompt, his hands couldn't help but tremble slightly.

This was not excitement, but a heavy tremor mixed with hope and immense pressure.

"It's transferred, Brother Zhang."

He turned the phone screen toward Manager Zhang Yuan.

Manager Zhang Yuan took a look, nodded, and said in a calm tone: "Mm, I see it. Funds usually arrive after clearing on the next business day, and then you can log in to the trading platform to operate."

He tidied up the documents on the table and added as if mentioning it casually: "By the way, not many clients are watching the crude oil variety recently; you are one of the earlier ones to notice. However... I have heard some rumors that some funds are also quietly paying attention to related events. There is more than one person with a keen market sense; you should pay more attention to the market changes yourself and act cautiously."

Lin Chen's heart stirred, knowing this was Manager Zhang Yuan implicitly reminding him that there might be other "smart money" in the market.

He nodded solemnly: "I will remember that, Brother Zhang. I will be careful."

After thanking him again, Lin Chen carefully folded the account confirmation slip and put it into his inner pocket, placing it together with the remaining small change.

He stood up, pushed open the door to the reception room, and stepped back into the lobby.

Those figures in suits and leather shoes were still moving about, and the red and green numbers on the electronic screens were still jumping.

The few white clients from earlier seemed to have already left.

The air was still filled with that cold, professional atmosphere.

But this time, Lin Chen walked very steadily.

He was still wearing those old clothes that were out of place here, but his back was no longer hunched.

He did not deliberately look at anyone, just looked straight ahead and walked toward the exit step by step.

Those potentially judging gazes seemed unable to penetrate the thin but tough armor built by "having money in the account," "having a feasible plan," and "being treated seriously."

Pushing open the glass door, the afternoon sun was a bit blinding.

He stood in front of the tall office building, and for the first time, he did not feel dizzy or small.

He touched the thin piece of paper in his pocket and gripped his phone tightly.

Just then—

【Real-time News Sync: Reuters Flash — Iraq Republican Guard elite troops confirmed to be maneuvering toward the Kuwait border, and the intensity of the border conflict is significantly escalating. Market sentiment is beginning to fluctuate.】

【Related Market Data: NYMEX Light Sweet Crude futures, currently trading at $18.47/barrel, up $0.39 from yesterday's closing price, an increase of 2.16%. Buying interest is rising.】

The cold mechanical voice, carrying undeniable information, cut into his mind.

Lin Chen's footsteps stopped abruptly.

He quickly took out his phone, his fingers trembling slightly as he swiped the screen to open the preview interface of the trading software that Manager Zhang Yuan had just guided him to download and which he hadn't closed yet.

That curve representing the crude oil price, which was originally almost flat, now clearly raised a small but definitely upward head.

It had started.

His pupils contracted slightly, and his breathing stagnated for a moment.

The traffic and noise on the street seemed to fade away instantly, leaving only the jumping number on the screen and the increasingly clear and powerful heartbeat in his chest.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Like war drums, beating on the streets of 1990 Los Angeles.