met free Page 9
Page 9
Professor Finch adjusted his glasses, his gaze seemingly casually sweeping over Hawke: "The cases we're discussing today happen to involve 'market efficiency' and 'ethical boundaries'... especially in certain... lightning-fast operations."
He pronounced "lightning speed" with perfect clarity.
All eyes in the classroom immediately turned to Hawke.
After finding a seat and sitting down, Hawke, feeling the gaze of everyone in the room, calmly looked back at the professor and said loudly, "Professor, isn't the core of market efficiency the timeliness of information and the speed of decision-making? As for ethical boundaries... I thought business schools believed more in 'maximizing value within the limits of the rules'?"
Professor Finch choked for a moment, then snorted, "Sharp-tongued."
He cleared his throat again, suppressing all the noise in the classroom, and asked, "So, what are your thoughts on the eternal debate of 'market efficiency versus ethical boundaries'—hostile takeovers?"
Hawke's lips twitched involuntarily, and he cursed under his breath, "What a pedantic old scholar."
Professor Finch paused, his gaze lingering on Hawke's face for a moment before sweeping across the completely silent classroom, and continued:
"The act of an acquirer exploiting market panic, information asymmetry, or even... a carefully planned liquidity trap to swiftly dismantle and seize the core assets of a reasonably functioning but temporarily troubled company at a low price..."
Professor Finch's voice was not loud, but each word was clear and had a cold, metallic quality: "Hawk Lane, and all of you students, do you think this is the result of the cold rationality of the capital market's optimal allocation of resources, or is it purely a plunder of the dark side of the rules?"
Dead silence.
Absolute silence.
Almost instantly after the words were spoken, over a hundred eyes in the lecture hall focused uniformly on Hawke Lane.
Adoration, curiosity, exploration, scrutiny, appreciation, criticism... countless complex emotions intertwine to form an invisible giant net.
Hawke sat in his usual middle-forward position, his back straight as a pine tree.
He could clearly feel the weight of those countless gazes, like a tangible pressure falling on his shoulders.
He slightly raised his eyes to meet Professor Finch's cloudy eyes on the podium, eyes that held a certain judgmental intent. He opened his mouth slightly, but ultimately remained silent.
The acquisition of Bates Capital, in theory or purely in academia, involved ruthless and even illegal methods that cannot be excused.
But reality cannot be summed up by theories in books.
For example, there is no information in the books about how to retaliate after being assassinated by a superpowered person.
They didn't tell you what to do if you were targeted by Hydra.
What should I do?
Call the police?
So Hawke simply remained silent, as if silently asking: So what? What can be done?
The bell rang as if to save the day, and the screeching noise of chair legs scraping against the floor broke the cramped silence of the classroom.
Hawke tidied up the notebook on the table. As soon as he stood up, a warm breeze, mixed with the scent of expensive perfume and youthful hormones, gently enveloped him.
"Hawk!" The voice was as sweet and gentle as melting maple syrup, with just the right amount of panic.
A petite figure with cascading blonde hair, wearing a tight white tennis miniskirt, stumbled toward him as if tripped by an invisible obstacle on the ground.
Hawke reacted quickly, and before she could actually fall, his strong arms had already firmly caught her waist.
It feels elastic and soft to the touch.
Golden strands of hair brushed against his chin, carrying the sweet scent of expensive shampoo.
"Oh my god! I'm so sorry! This damn floor!" She raised her delicate, palm-sized face, her sapphire-like eyes filled with shock and pitifulness, and a perfect blush rose on her cheeks.
"I'm Katherine Miller, thank you so much!"
Hawke's gaze swept over the deeper neckline exposed by her bending over, and a gentle smile appeared on his lips: "It's alright, Catherine. Be careful next time."
He withdrew his arm without making a sound.
"Wow! I actually saw the legendary Hawk Lane up close?"
Catherine's cheeks were rosy, and her blue eyes sparkled.
“I just transferred from the math department yesterday! My god, you’re like a rock star in the financial world when it comes to Bates!”
She extended her hand warmly.
Hawke smiled and took her hand, feeling the warmth of her palm: "Welcome to the Economics Department. Not exactly a rock star, just that the market happens to need a little... adjustment."
His words were precise yet carried a touch of youthful playfulness.
After exchanging contact information, Catherine skipped away from the classroom, as happy as if she had received an autographed photo of Michael Jackson.
Just then, with a soft "thud," an extremely sharp HB pencil rolled precisely to the side of Hawke's shoe.
16 Wow, teacher?
Just then, with a soft "thud," an extremely sharp HB pencil rolled precisely to the side of Hawke's shoe.
A hand with distinct knuckles and smooth skin reached out to pick it up.
"I'm sorry." The voice was cool, with a hint of Asian accent.
The owner of the hand stood up.
She was an Asian girl.
Her long, glossy black hair cascaded down to her waist, making her face appear as delicate as porcelain.
Her figure was extremely well-proportioned, and the curves of her figure were smooth and restrained in the well-tailored dark green knitted dress. It was neither ostentatious nor lacking in a subtle yet deadly attraction.
Her eyes were large, with slightly upturned corners, and her pupils were a deep amber color. At this moment, she was looking intently at Hawke, her long eyelashes resting quietly like butterfly wings, carrying a breathtaking innocence and curiosity.
“It’s alright.” Hawke’s gaze lingered on her face for a moment before he gentlemanly stepped aside slightly to let her pass through the narrow passageway first.
The girl nodded slightly, a barely perceptible smile curving her lips: "My name is Miu, Kobayashi Miu. I'm new here."
The voice remained clear and cold, but the ending tone seemed to carry a subtle hook.
As she bent down to pick up the pencil, her soft hair slid down like silk, and a faint, delicate fragrance drifted to Hawke's nose.
The fragrance of gardenias is sweet and refreshing.
"Hello, Miyu, welcome to Columbia University!" Hawke smiled politely.
"Hi Hawke, could you take a look at this model for me? I think your understanding of liquidity is really cool."
Miu Kobayashi picked up the pencil and rubbed it between her hands in front of her, seemingly a little nervous.
His eyes held just the right amount of curiosity and a hint of barely perceptible probing.
Hawke raised an eyebrow at her: "'Super cool'? That's a fresh compliment, but fluidity itself isn't cool. The key is how you make it 'flow' for you."
He smiled, looked at an economic model on Miyu's laptop screen, and began to explain it.
For the next half day, Hawke felt like he had fallen into a flower garden of "school beauties".
At the corner of the corridor, I "bumped into" Samantha, a black girl with a healthy tan and a figure that rivaled Victoria's Secret Angels. She looked up, her face so delicate that she didn't look black, and her smile was incredibly infectious.
She openly discussed the potential of emerging markets with Hawke, who patiently responded, but his consistently distant attitude left Samantha somewhat disappointed.
She is indeed beautiful, but unfortunately there aren't many black girls who can make Hawke look up, unless he has no other choice;
On the stone steps, a tall, red-haired girl wearing tight jeans and knee-high boots was struggling to carry a full box of heavy economics books up the steps.
The exaggerated curves outlined by the tight jeans and the full breasts that seemed about to burst through the buttons of her shirt trembled with her "laborious" movements, exuding an undisguised primal allure.
This is Abby, a redhead with stunning curves and a sweet smile.
The helpful Hawke naturally helped Abby move her heavy box of books to her dorm room and then gave her a two-hour lecture on German classical economics.
As she was leaving, Abby gave Hawke a knowing look and said, "Hawk...classical economics...you've really studied it in depth..."
I left the girls' dormitory building, avoiding everyone, and passed by an outdoor cafe not far away.
A mature woman with a mysterious air, dressed in a sharply tailored trench coat, cast a cryptic, scrutinizing, and intriguing glance at him across her coffee cup.
She was completely wrapped in a well-tailored black trench coat, with only her slender, snow-white ankles showing.
Her deep chestnut curls were casually draped over her shoulders, covering half of her face, leaving only her perfectly sculpted jawline and a pair of cold, icy gray-blue eyes.
She held a slender cigarette between her fingers, the swirling smoke blurring her features but adding to her mysterious and dangerous aura.
As Hawke passed by, she lazily raised her icy, lake-like eyes: "Hawk?"
Hawke stopped and turned to face the girl.
He was somewhat surprised when they made eye contact; wasn't this Mera, the Queen of the Sea?
The one who poops in bed?
Hello, may I ask who you are?
Hawke was inwardly suspicious, but outwardly remained extremely polite.
“Vivian, the new actuarial science professor, you are the most famous student in the economics department and even Columbia University, so of course I have to pay you a visit.”
Vivian flashed a charming smile.
"Wow, actuarial science?" Hawke exclaimed, but in his heart he was thinking: Wow, teacher?
Which intelligence agency made this brilliant arrangement? They really know him too well!
Hawke glanced at Vivian, who called herself "Actuarial Science Teacher."
It exudes a lazy yet dangerous aura.
Hawke laughed and said, "I thought your first stop would be the department head's office."
Vivian exhaled a wisp of smoke, her grey-blue eyes appearing and disappearing behind the swirling mist: "The department head is too boring. I'd rather meet... the 'legend' himself first."
She paused, tapping her coffee cup lightly with her fingertips, "Especially the person who could turn Bates Capital from a 'financial giant' into a 'bankruptcy liquidation case' in less than a month."
Hawke shrugged: "The market is never short of surprises, I just happened to be on the right side."
“Correct?” Vivian chuckled, her voice deep and magnetic. “Or… did you use some special methods?”
The air seemed to freeze for a second.
Hawke's expression remained unchanged. He leaned forward slightly and lowered his voice: "Professor Vivian, if this is a professional question, I suggest you change the case—after all, arbitrarily accusing students is not a good teaching method."
Vivian didn't respond immediately. Instead, she slowly stubbed out her cigarette, stood up, and the hem of her trench coat swayed slightly with her movements, revealing glimpses of her long, slender legs.
“Don’t worry, I’m just hypothesizing.” She leaned closer, her red lips almost touching Hawke’s earlobe, her warm breath carrying a faint scent of tobacco. “I’m just curious… how long your ‘luck’ will last.”
After saying that, she took a half step back, gave a meaningful smile, turned and left, leaving behind the words, "Welcome to my class!"