Chapter 77: Today

Anjielina thought for a long while, then shook her head.

"I don't know," the girl frowned, her beautiful brows drawn tight: "I haven't offended anyone."

"Maybe it's your competitor?" Roger reminded her: "Perhaps your appearance stole his resources…"

"Cindy? Her latest album did sell poorly, but it has nothing to do with me," Anjielina explained. This book is originally published on Tiantian Kan Xiaoshuo, extremely convenient, ttks. tw read anytime, offering you error-free, non-disordered chapters.

Roger shook his head: "Perhaps she's taking it out on you."

"Oh God, it probably isn't her," the white girl covered her mouth, incredulous—deep down, she still refused to think the worst of people.

"It doesn't have to be her, but you should observe more carefully at work. Also, don't appear near here recently. That gang took money to harass you—don't put yourself in danger."

"Thank you," Anjielina clasped her cup with both hands, sincerely: "Thanks to you, Roger. And thank you again for the song last time—I just finished recording two days ago, and my new album is about to be released."

"That's great news," Roger smiled: "If it's released, I'll buy one."

"Mm." Anjielina suddenly remembered something, pulled out her phone: "What's your phone number?"

Although they had known each other for a while, they had never added each other as contacts.

Roger gave the girl his number; after exchanging friends, they walked out of the café together.

Just as Roger was about to return to his car, he noticed Anjielina looked embarrassed.

She kept her hands in her pockets, fumbling left and right—as if she'd lost something.

"What's wrong?" Roger asked.

"Uh… sorry…" the blue-eyed girl blushed: "I left my bag in Weide's car—my wallet and credit cards are inside."

"Oh, no problem. Where do you live? I'll drive you."

Roger saw it through—he opened the front passenger door and let the girl in.

Anjielina bit her lip, brushed her hair aside, and murmured apologetically: "Thank you—again, I'm troubling you."

"Don't be so formal!"

Roger waited for her to sit, closed the door, and returned to the driver's seat.

But as soon as the girl sat down, she realized the backseat held a burly, menacing brute and a cold, expressionless man.

And between them crouched a pit bull with sharp fangs and a snarling mouth!

"Grr… Woof!"

The pit bull growled low at the stranger, startling Anjielina.

"Jose, stop!" Roger patted the dog's head: "The burger you ate today was sent by this kind lady!"

Jose heard this, shut his mouth, sniffed with his small nose—as if smelling the burger, he eagerly licked Roger's hand with his tongue.

"Good boy."

Roger fastened his seatbelt and told the stiff-faced girl: "Relax—they only look scary. Qiangsen, smile!"

Qiangsen was still lost in guessing the terrifying identities of the two bosses—he had no intention of smiling.

But he dared not disobey Roger's order, so he forced his lips into what he thought was the friendliest grin.

Unaware that to Anjielina, his fake, grimacing smile was no different from a murderer's grin!

The girl gripped her chest strap tightly, swallowing repeatedly.

"Damn it, how can you even stop smiling now?" Roger frowned at the rearview mirror.

"Sorry, boss," Qiangsen flustered, pulling his mouth wider in a desperate attempt to smile.

But this expression was even scarier!

Anjielina felt like she was watching the real-life version of the movie "The Grin!"

She quickly turned her head to the passing street scenery outside, biting her lip, worried about her reckless decision to get in the car.

"Just stop smiling—you'll make people think you're about to eat children."

To ease the tension, Roger changed the subject: "Juan, anything interesting happening on the streets lately?"

Juan glanced at him, then at the female singer, and said calmly: "Lately, there've been more homeless people with high-dos. Most of these new high-dos are covered in scars, their fingernails full of flesh fragments. Their faces are bluish, bodies curled up—like they're having heart attacks."

"Wait, wait!" Roger glanced at Anjielina's pale face: "I want to hear interesting things—not street horror stories!"

But Juan frowned: "Isn't that interesting?"

"Slap!"

Roger smacked his forehead.

He knew these two brothers were unreliable!

"Forget it—let's just listen to music."

Helplessly, he turned on the radio—only to find the hip-hop station reporting today's street murders.

"Did you guess today's Dead Man's Lottery? So far, 19 homicides, 7 rapes, 23 robberies, and 58 thefts have occurred between Third Avenue and the middle of Fifth Avenue. Oh! Another shooting! God, today's just a crime party—every kind of scum's here!"

The other host on the radio laughed: "Looks like the Seattle Police Department won't have trouble meeting their monthly quota."

"But stay safe, buddy—don't become the 21st unlucky corpse on the street."

Roger quickly switched stations, then awkwardly chuckled: "Uh, fake—it's just stand-up comedy, all game memes. Blame that Polish idiot."

Anjielina said nothing, her lips pressed tight, her face rigid.

Half an hour later, the Highlander arrived at Lake Union East.

Though this neighborhood, like Yushu Jie, was middle-class, housing prices were lower and traffic less dense.

When the car reached the community gate and she saw the familiar scenery, Anjielina finally exhaled.

"Bye, Roger," she avoided looking at the backseat, forced a smile, then quickly got out.

"Bye."

Roger watched her leave, then drove Juan and the others to the fried chicken shop.

That night, when he returned to Xin Yidunweier Shequ, he noticed far more gang members in the community.

And every vehicle entering the community must be inspected by them.

"Hey, buddy." Roger rolled down his window and greeted the black man with dreadlocks named Xiao Duo: "What's going on?"

Xiao Duo recognized Roger and walked over, leaning on the window: "Some asshole has been selling other gangs' enhancers on our turf."

"What?" Roger blinked in surprise.

Gangs had extremely strong territorial instincts, like honey badgers—live or die, they'd fight if challenged.

They viewed strangers as floods and ferocious beasts, and forbade any goods from being sold on their territory.

Especially enhancers—this was the lifeblood of gangs.

If discovered, shooting holes in the offender was perfectly normal.

"How do you know it's from another gang's enhancer?" Roger asked, curious.

Xiao Duo explained: "It's easy—we sell only enhancers made to specific formulas."

In fact, the cheap enhancers sold by gangs were rarely pure; they were mixed with plenty of tech and gimmicks to cut costs and boost efficiency.

Each gang had its own recipe; a quick comparison would reveal anything unusual.

"I see." Roger understood.

"Have you bought any enhancers recently? Notice anything strange?" Xiao Duo stared straight at Roger.

Roger shook his head: "I don't have money for enhancers now—I spent it all on this."

He patted the steering wheel.

"Really? When you've got cash, give ours a try," Xiao Duo smiled. "Our stuff's great—guaranteed to make you float."

Roger didn't answer him, but asked: "Have you considered the Mexican Gang?"

"Of course we suspected those Mexican bastards!" Xiao Duo snorted. "But this batch isn't their style—it's too harsh to smoke, and the effects aren't clean enough... Those Mexicans are simple-minded; they only sell high-purity stuff, no fancy tricks like this."

"Hmm."

After hearing Xiao Duo's tasting review of the enhancer—something Roger didn't understand at all—he shrugged and took his leave, driving back to Mrs. Fiona's house.

Just as he stepped into the garage, Vanessa's call came through.

"Roger, I found it!"