Chapter 392: The Masked Kid

"Shiiiiit, is that for real? Is that kid in the mask actually using an iPhone?"

"Yeah, I saw it when he was secretly answering a call."

"How could he afford an iPhone?"

"Who knows? Maybe he brought a lot of money when he came from China. Go to sleep."

"Aren't you afraid he'll steal your job?"

"Impossible. Just look at him; you can tell he doesn't know how to do anything."

"Is that so? But he's Chinese. I used to know a Chinese person, and I know how smart they are and how fast they learn. I hope you don't regret it later."

Juan Martinez rolled over dismissively, casting the woman's words to the back of his mind, and before long, his snoring echoed throughout the room.

Sleeping until 2 p. m., Juan finally woke up.

By then, Valeria was already gone.

He picked up the old T-shirt and jeans he had worn yesterday from beside the bed, pulled them on, then walked into the cramped bathroom, splashed his face with cold water without even brushing his teeth, and walked out of the dilapidated apartment he shared with seven or eight other illegal immigrants.

Humming a folk song from his hometown in Mexico, he held a piece of tortilla left over from the day before, nibbling on it as he swayed his way toward the pizza shop.

Juan never arrived at work early. His position at the pizza shop was kitchen helper, mainly responsible for washing vegetables, chopping ingredients, cleaning the kitchen, and assisting the head chef.

As a "wetback" with nothing to his name, this job was already pretty good for him; after all, it didn't require identification, and the boss was willing to pay in cash, which saved a lot of trouble.

As usual, Juan arrived at the shop right on time.

But the moment he entered the kitchen, his heart skipped a beat.

The kid in the mask who had arrived the day before yesterday was already there—who knows how long ago—and there was already a huge pile of onions chopped on the cutting board.

"Putamadre!" Juan cursed silently in Spanish, a sense of urgency rising in his heart. Contrary to his usual habits, he didn't even smoke a cigarette and instead rolled up his sleeves and got to work.

They worked from 4 p. m. until past 10 p. m., when they started taking turns eating dinner.

Juan grabbed a slice of leftover combo pizza from the previous batch near the oven and, while chewing, glanced sideways at the kid in the mask.

Compared to two days ago, the other person's movements were visibly much more skilled.

At this moment, the woman's words from last night suddenly flashed through Juan's mind, and a trace of unease flickered in his heart.

At 2 a. m., the busy day finally came to an end.

Juan had been in the United States for seven years and was long accustomed to this level of work intensity.

Watching the kid in the mask wiping away sweat, he couldn't help but mutter to himself, "Get out of here, hurry up and leave if you can't take it. There are $4.50-an-hour jobs all over New Orleans, why come here?"

Later, when the boss came into the back kitchen to settle their wages for the day, Juan was shocked to see that the kid in the mask had actually received $45, just like him.

"Jerry, why did he get as much as I did?" Juan immediately called out, saying in his Mexican-accented English, "I've been working here for seven years, and he's only been here for three days!"

"Maybe it's because he arrived two hours earlier than you?" the pizza shop owner, Jerry, said coldly. "Do you have any objections, Mr. Martinez?"

Juan sheepishly shut his mouth.

At 2:30 a. m., the pizza shop finally closed.

Juan dragged his exhausted body out of the shop door.

In late March in New Orleans, the early morning hours were undoubtedly damp and cold. He walked back along the familiar streets, still brooding over the matter of the wages. "Only three days... how does he deserve to get as much as me..."

Just then, a voice suddenly came from behind: "Hey, Juan, is that Juan? Wait for me!"

Juan was startled. He turned his head to look and was surprised to see it was the kid in the mask. He said irritably, "What is it?"

The other person said, "Halo, I see you're going this way too. Want to walk home together? I live in this direction as well."

"Where do you live?"

"Mid-city."

"I live in Treme. It's not too far, actually." Juan thought about it; it would indeed be safer for two people to walk together. He had been robbed seven times in the past year and was really getting fed up with it.

"Alright then, let's walk together."

On the way, the kid in the mask was quite talkative, constantly asking him all sorts of questions.

He answered them half-heartedly.

"Yes, my wife and two children are all in Mexico."

"Seven years."

"Of course they won't come over. They don't speak English, and if they were in the U. S., I couldn't support them."

"My rent is $200 a month."

"Because I found a woman, just like us, to rent a place together and sleep in the same bed so everyone can save money."

"No, she's not Mexican, she's Dominican. New Orleans has people from all over the world—Chinese, Mexicans, Dominicans. Hey man, you'll know once you've stayed long enough; this is the freest place in the world."

Not only did he answer questions, but he also asked the other person quite a few things.

Finally, he learned that the kid in the mask was Chinese and had come over on a smuggling boat from Tijuana with his girlfriend because he owed debts. He had a skin condition and couldn't be exposed to light, which was why he always wore a mask.

"Parece que te cae bien, eh?"

Back in the apartment, after Valeria heard him finish, she said with a hint of faint mockery.

"How is that possible!?"

"Then why did you talk so much to this Chinese kid?"

Juan recalled it and also felt it was quite strange.

Because he knew himself—he definitely didn't like this kid in the mask. Who would like someone who felt like they were going to steal their livelihood? Finally, he figured it out and said to Valeria, "I think that guy must have been a rich man back in China."

"Oh? Why? Because of his iPhone?"

"No, his attitude toward others, his aura, the way he speaks... that's why I was led by the nose by him."

"Haha, you took him for a boss?" Valeria laughed. Although the 40-something kitchen maid had long since lost her smooth skin, her eyes held a hint of mischievous color, just like a young girl.

This ignited a flame in Juan's heart; he rudely tore open the woman's clothes and pressed himself onto her.

The next day, the third day, the fourth day,

In the blink of an eye, the kid in the mask had already been at "Jerry's Pizza" for a week.

By this time, Juan had also set aside more than half of his worries.

Although the kid in the mask still arrived very early every day and his movements were becoming more and more nimble.

However, he must have never done manual labor before and had never chopped vegetables at all; his knife skills were a total mess. Working for 12 hours wasn't even as good as Juan working for 8 hours.

Juan was a bit puzzled at this time: why would Jerry, that miser, be willing to hire such a person and pay an extra portion of money every day? And he seemed to be spending more time in the back kitchen than before, hovering around the kid in the mask intentionally or unintentionally. Why was that?

Juan couldn't quite figure it out.

However, a series of events that followed immediately left him with no time to think about it anymore.

First, on his way home from work, just after he had parted ways with the kid in the mask, he ran into two "junkies" short on cash. They not only robbed him of his money but also hit him hard on the head with a gun butt, leaving him with a bloody head and a concussion, forcing him to take a day off.

Just at this time, he received a phone call from his wife in the Mexican countryside. His youngest son had contracted dengue fever and needed to be hospitalized, requiring him to send an extra $500 back this month.

But when Juan came to the pizza shop injured, wanting to get an advance on his wages, he was mercilessly refused.

Afterward, that night, when he returned to the apartment with the money in his pocket, his heart was filled with mixed feelings.

"Que? Te presto el dinero?" Valeria's eyes widened in disbelief after hearing his words. "How much money did he lend you?"

"$200."

"$200!? No interest?"

"Yes."

Valeria shook her head in disbelief and muttered a few words.

Juan didn't hear clearly, but he could generally guess what she was saying.

Yes, such a large sum of money, and the kid in the mask had actually given it to him the very next day after hearing his plea on the way home.

This felt like a plot that would only happen in a movie!

However.

Regardless, with this $200, plus the money he had saved before, he had enough to make $500 and could send it home tomorrow.

By this time, Juan's opinion of the kid in the mask had changed greatly, and a sense of gratitude had even risen in his heart.

Although the kid in the mask hadn't said when he needed to pay it back, Juan secretly made up his mind that he would definitely save up to return it to him as soon as possible.

After these things happened,

He was in no mood for pleasure-seeking that night.

Even though Valeria took the initiative to sit on him, shaking her shriveled breasts in an attempt to get him excited, he remained as unresponsive as a dead fish.

Finally, amidst the woman's foul-mouthed curses, Juan turned over, covered his ears with a pillow, and fell into a deep sleep.

$200 made Juan completely accept the kid in the mask.

This day, on the way home from work, he was finally willing to impart some of his survival wisdom in New Orleans to the other person.

"The area around Mid-city is still quite safe, unless you go digging into those small alleys. Otherwise, as long as you dress a bit shabbily, generally no one will rob you."

"Of course, there are exceptions—that's when those white trash or blacks have run out of money, just like what I encountered that day. I advise you, if you run into them, don't resist; just take out all your valuables. I know a Puerto Rican guy who, just because he couldn't bear to part with a watch—guess what? One of his hands was chopped off."

"If you're walking at night, never wear headphones, and don't keep looking down at your phone. Many guys specifically target people like that."

"See that? Half of the streetlights on this stretch are broken. Those gang punks love to sell their goods at the street corners here. Especially near Canal Street, there are gunfights every few days. You must never go there."

"And those street racers, driving modified cars around in the middle of the night. Sometimes when they're drunk, they'll just pick someone to vent their anger on. It's best to run if you see them."

Finally, Juan couldn't help but remind him: "Most importantly, when you're walking, you must always check behind you to see if anyone is following."

"I've noticed you rarely look back to observe; that's not good."

"Understood."

A low, hoarse voice came from beside him, making Juan unable to help but turn his head to look at the other person.

After all, he still remembered that one week ago, the Masked Kid was not like this. He had been very lively and cheerful.

But now, a short week or so had passed.

The pair of eyes above the mask were already bloodshot, no different from the look Juan saw when he looked in the mirror every day, and his shoulders were no longer held so straight, but slightly slumped.

His iPhone was nowhere to be found; now, just like him, he used a dilapidated Nokia.

His hair had also become messy, his T-shirt was stained with oil and flour, and there were several small cuts on his fingers from a knife, covered haphazardly with cheap adhesive bandages.

When eating, he no longer took small bites, but like Juan, stuffed it into his mouth in two or three mouthfuls, wiped his mouth casually with his sleeve, and then continued to work.

Juan once saw him get burned by the oven, but he only frowned, cursed "mierda!" (shit) in Spanish under his breath, and then continued to work.

What made Juan feel even more familiar was the Masked Kid's expression—

That kind of numbness toward the surrounding environment.

He used to be unable to stop looking around, as if interested in everything, but now, he had learned to keep his head down and work, and occasionally looking up was just a quick glance at his surroundings.

On the way home together at night, there was less talk; he no longer asked about this and that like when he first arrived, but walked in silence.

Honestly, Juan felt as if he saw his own shadow in him.

He couldn't help but shake his head in his heart.

He didn't know what this Masked Kid had gone through in these short few days, besides work.

But clearly, New Orleans had taught this young Chinese kid a good lesson.

It must be New Orleans; it couldn't possibly be him, right?

Hahaha.

This made Juan quite emotional, so much so that after they parted at the street corner, he looked back for the first time.

"Shit!"

Juan called out in a low voice.

He saw that under the dim streetlights, the Masked Kid was walking in front, but about a few dozen meters behind him, two sturdy figures were following from a distance.

"Damn it!" Juan cursed under his breath, then watched the Masked Kid's back with some anxiety, muttering: "Turn around, look back, motherfucker, turn around!"

But until the Masked Kid's figure disappeared around the street corner, he never looked back.

Juan's heart was pounding.

What to do?

He didn't have his phone number.

Should he follow?

Damn it, it must be that this guy got targeted by someone without knowing how.

For the sake of that 200 dollars, Juan had an impulse to rush over and warn the other party.

But it was fleeting.

He shook his head, sighed, and whispered: "I told you. Look back, you must remember to look back."

Afterward, he turned around and walked toward his own apartment.

Juan thought he definitely wouldn't see the Masked Kid the next day; there was a 50% chance he would leave without saying goodbye and vanish into thin air, and a 50% chance he would ask for leave.

However, he never expected that when he arrived at the pizza shop the next day, the Masked Kid had actually arrived early, just like before.

"WTF, Lee, why are you..."

"What's wrong?" The Masked Kid looked up, looking at him in confusion.

Juan shut his mouth immediately.

If he wanted to ask clearly, he would inevitably have to tell of his every move last night, and that was not something glorious.

"Why do you come so early every day? Aren't you tired?"

The Masked Kid shook his head and said: "It's okay."

Juan nodded and asked with a trace of guilt: "After work tonight, do you want to come to my place? Have a drink together?"

The Masked Kid was stunned for a moment, looking a bit hesitant, but finally nodded and agreed.

Clearly, Juan's bedmate was initially a bit dissatisfied that he had brought a stranger home without a word.

In the ten-square-meter room, besides a dirty mattress on the floor, there was no other furniture or appliances, and messy clothes were everywhere—bras, underwear, and panties were thrown all over.

Any woman with a shred of shame would not want to host guests in such an environment.

But soon, Juan found that the woman had become happy.

Especially when the Masked Kid pushed his mask up a little, revealing his mouth, Juan noticed Valeria's eyes brighten even more.

After drinking, the Masked Kid's words became more frequent.

However, this time the person he was interested in became Valeria.

"Why did you come to America?"

"How long have you been in America?"

"What is your hometown like? Do you have siblings?"

"How did you sneak in? Did you encounter any danger on the way?"

"How do you usually pass the time here?" Valeria was not annoyed by these topics, and the two of them chatted happily with the Masked Kid.

Later on, she even talked about her experience in a rehab center before she started washing dishes at the restaurant, as well as the time she lived with an illegal Chinese immigrant.

"What happened to that person in the end?"

"Dead, probably. Anyway, after '05, I never saw him again. Although some people said they saw him over in the Garden District, saying he made a fortune, I don't believe it."

"So, dead, definitely dead. He must have been targeted, killed by a gang, his hard-earned money stolen, and then thrown into the sea. Poor guy, I heard he still had a daughter waiting for him to send money back."

Juan took a sip of wine and said: "What's the big deal? Aren't we all like that?"

Valeria said: "That's true, so I didn't cry, I just sold the things he left at my place for 3 dollars."

"Hahahaha, well done."

Juan clinked glasses with Valeria and took another sip.

The Masked Kid was silent for a while and asked: "What about the police? Don't the police care?"

Hearing this naive question, Juan and Valeria both laughed.

"Police? Where would any police care about the life or death of an illegal immigrant. Besides, how could people like us report to the police? By then, the criminal wouldn't be caught, and we'd end up in the immigration detention center ourselves," Juan said.

Valeria nodded and said: "In America, we don't look for the police; we all take care of ourselves."

The Masked Kid nodded: "Then what do you want to do in the future? Continue doing this?"

This question was even more naive; Juan laughed so hard he sprayed his wine, and Valeria was clutching her stomach, laughing until she was bent over.

Juan laughed: "What else? Of course, I'd also love to get a legal driver's license and identity permit, then go be a delivery driver. The pay is double what it is now, driving outside every day, plus tips."

Valeria agreed: "Maybe you could even sneak into the Oscars and get Angelina Jolie to sign an autograph for you."

"Hahahaha." Juan laughed out loud, "Right, that lucky guy might just be me. Hahahaha!"

The three of them drank until the sky turned white, and the Masked Kid finally said goodbye and left.

Once the door closed, Juan grabbed Valeria by the neck, pressed her against the door, and asked with jealousy: "Bitch, did you take a liking to him?"

Valeria giggled, and her green eyes revealed that look that made Juan's heart itch again, "So what if I did?"

Saying that, she brought her mouth to Juan's ear and whispered, "Don't you want to... hmm? Try three people?"

"Tu, puta barata!" Juan panted heavily, his hands groping the woman forcefully.

The pain made the woman frown slightly, but the expression on her face was incomparably joyful. Valeria stretched out her hands and stroked Juan's face.

"The moment he walked in, the moment I saw his eyes, I couldn't help it. Seeing his chin and mouth... oh, I guarantee, he must be very handsome under the mask, and at that moment I was thinking..."

"Puta, you puta!" Juan listened, and finally couldn't help but curse viciously.

He gripped Valeria's throat, preparing to go further in a few quick motions.

Suddenly, his Nokia rang.

"Don't mind it."

Valeria was like a female beast in heat, her expression frantic; with a "slap," she gave him a hard slap across the face, "Did you hear? Don't mind it. Hurry, quick!"

"No, wait."

Juan didn't continue, because no one in the world would call his phone except for his family in Mexico. Valeria knew this, and he knew it even better.

Calling so early, something important must have happened.

Juan answered the phone, and sure enough, his wife's anxious voice came from the other end of the receiver.

In Mexico, his youngest son's condition had worsened due to dengue fever and he had been transferred to the intensive care unit.

Not only that, their roof had been blown off by half due to a rainstorm last night and was in urgent need of repair, otherwise the family wouldn't even have a place to live.

The materials and labor for repairing the house would cost at least 5000 pesos, plus medical expenses, totaling at least 2000 dollars he needed to send back.

Juan listened to the phone, his heart feeling as if it had fallen into an abyss.

His monthly income was 1200 dollars; after deducting rent and basic living expenses, he had 700 dollars left. He usually sent 650 dollars home and saved 50 dollars for himself.

But he had just sent money home for his youngest son's treatment two days ago, his savings were completely gone, and now he only had the 40 dollars in wages he received yesterday.

2000 dollars!

Where was he going to find it?

"Don't cry, I know, I'll think of a way, I'll send the money back to you tomorrow." Juan feigned calmness to comfort his wife a few times and hung up the phone.

Valeria had returned to normal by this time, sitting beside him, and asked: "What's wrong?"

After hearing Juan finish, the woman shrugged and said, "I'm sorry, but I can't help you, Juan. You know about my money. I send more money home every month than you do."

Juan said, "I know. I wasn't counting on you."

"Then what do you want to do? Go take out a usurious loan? Then I have to make this clear in advance: if you go take out a usurious loan, you have to move out of here. I don't want my home to be a mess when the time comes."

"Damn it, Valeria, you... I hadn't thought of that either."

"Then where else can you get money? Sell blood? Or go find a gang and sign a contract of indentured servitude to ship cargo?"

"No, neither." Juan gritted his teeth and said, "Valeria, I remember you know a few... right?"

"That's right, what do you want? I'm warning you, they aren't going to go rob a bank with you."

"Of course not rob a bank, I just want them to do this... After it's done, I'll split the take fifty-fifty with them."

Valeria fell silent, looking at Juan thoughtfully.

Juan said anxiously, "Valeria, please, I know you like him, but! Nothing will happen, I won't hurt him, I just want him to give us some money. I know he has it; he brought a lot of money over from China."

Valeria smiled and said, "Juan, you think that's what I'm thinking about? No. I'm thinking, you split it half-and-half with them, where is my share?"

That night, when Juan walked out of the pizza shop door with the Masked Kid, his heart was pounding nervously.

Before leaving, the Masked Kid seemed to have discovered something; he stared at him for a long time and even asked if something was wrong.

Fortunately, he had anticipated this situation beforehand and gave an excuse. The Masked Kid didn't suspect anything, and after going to the restroom, he walked out the door with him.

Walking on the pitch-black road under the dim lights, the thin and small Juan seemed to melt into the shadows, forming a sharp contrast with the tall, lean figure beside him.

He kept letting his thoughts run wild in his head.

Can you blame me?

You can't blame me.

Who told you to have money?

Anyway, in New Orleans, for a rookie like you, your money is bound to become someone else's sooner or later.

You might as well give it to me, and afterwards I can even teach you how to stay in the kitchen.

Juan suddenly heard the other person say something.

"What?" he asked.

"Do you feel like the streets are quite quiet tonight?"

Juan's heart beat even faster. Why would he suddenly say this? Could he have really seen through something?

No way.

The people are waiting there at the intersection.

Juan's plan for tonight was very simple.

He intended to lead the people to tail the Masked Kid to the apartment where he lived, and then have the two thugs Valeria found coerce the Masked Kid into going home to get the money. Afterwards, he would take thirty percent, Valeria would take twenty percent, and the two thugs would take fifty percent. According to his observations, the Masked Kid definitely had this money!

Who told him to have the habit of not looking behind him when he walks?

Juan felt his plan should be foolproof. Besides, the Masked Kid definitely wouldn't dare to call the police, unless he wanted to be deported, so there wouldn't be any problems.

Juan smiled reluctantly and said, "Is it? Isn't it the same as before?"

Chen Nuo said, "Perhaps. By the way, I'm leaving. Just letting you know."

"Ah?" Juan said in surprise, "Go where?"

"Changing jobs."

"Changing jobs? You found a new job?"

"Yes."

"Doing what?"

"Acting."

Juan laughed out loud, completely disbelieving: "Acting? Acting!?"

Seeing the Masked Kid nod as if it were a serious matter, Juan found it even more amusing, "Are you going to the streets to play a clown?"

"No, I've already done that kind of thing."

"Hahahaha, Li, you're very humorous."

"Thanks, I do hear people say that often."

As he laughed, Juan stopped his laughter.

What's going on?

The Masked Kid, his tone of voice seemed to have returned to how it was when he first arrived.

Could it be that he really saw through it?

But fortunately, it was only these few sentences; afterwards, the other person fell silent again, returning to his usual manner these past few days, which made Juan breathe a huge sigh of relief.

After a while, they arrived at the intersection where they had parted ways for the past few days.

"I'm leaving, bye."

"Okay, bye."

Juan watched the Masked Kid walk slowly away, and he began to look around, feeling a bit uneasy. According to the plan, the two thugs Valeria found should be waiting for him right here.

But where are the people?

Now the intersection was empty, not even a ghost in sight.

Seeing the Masked Kid's figure about to disappear around the corner in the distance, just as Juan was about to disregard everything and chase after him first, suddenly, two people emerged from a small alley on the street they had come from.

Juan immediately breathed a sigh of relief and rushed over, complaining, "Where did you go? Hurry, he's about to..."

Before he could finish his sentence, Juan slammed on the brakes and shut his mouth.

Because a pitch-black gun barrel was pointed at him, and the people in front of him were not at all the two little thugs Valeria had found for him; they were tall, wearing jeans and leather jackets, and looked somewhat familiar.

Juan suddenly remembered.

Aren't these the two people who were following behind the Masked Kid that night!?

He forced a smile and said, "Hey, brother, what's wrong? Did you mistake me for someone else? I don't have money, the one with money isn't me, it's the one wearing the mask, he's already gone. But, we can still catch up if we go now. He has a lot of money, really. When the time comes, you guys..."

"Shut up!" the man holding the gun interrupted him coldly, then retracted the weapon, signaling him to stay quiet.

The other man stepped forward and performed a search on him with skilled techniques; the movements were clean and efficient, as if he had undergone professional training.

Juan's heart rate accelerated, and he asked in terror, "The cops!? Are you guys cops?"

"Wrong, that was in the past." The man who spoke first smiled slightly and said in a relaxed tone, "Not doing it anymore, the salary is too low."

"Then who are you people?" Juan's voice trembled, both surprised and afraid.

"We are private security personnel." The man replied calmly, "Our duty is to protect the client's safety. Your actions have already constituted a potential threat to our client, so we will hand you over to the police to handle according to the law."

He paused and pointed to the pitch-black alley. Only then did Juan see that the two thugs Valeria had found had already been subdued, wearing handcuffs on their wrists, sitting on the ground with their heads bowed in silence.

"We have already called the police, and the police will arrive soon to take you away."

"What! No, no, no, you don't have the right to do this!" Hearing the word police, Juan thought of the immigration bureau. He panicked instantly and struggled, shouting, "Let me go! Who are you people! Please, let me go!"

Juan's desperate roars echoed on the silent streets of New Orleans in the dead of night, and he struggled frantically.

Just as he had told the Masked Kid earlier, although the police generally turn a blind eye to illegal immigrants like them, as long as you deliver yourself to their doorstep, then the immigration bureau is inevitably your final destination.

However, these two men were clearly professionals. They ignored his shouting; one of them quickly took handcuffs from his waist and cuffed his hands with standard movements, both decisive and without unnecessary violence.

Juan struggled desperately, but it was to no avail.

The faces of his wife and children seemed to appear before his eyes, and they seemed to be crying toward him.

He completely didn't understand what was going on.

Why would a perfectly good plan be suddenly ruined by two people who popped out of nowhere.

These two people, who exactly are they?

A word he heard just now suddenly rang in Juan's head.

Private security?

Whose?

Who are they protecting?

Just at this moment, a figure wearing a mask became clear in his mind.

Him?

Him!!!

Fuck, who is he?

And how did he know what I was planning to do today? Why would he have them caught so cleanly and efficiently?

Juan felt like he was going crazy, but at this moment his brain was turning incredibly fast.

He suddenly remembered the restroom the Masked Kid went to before they walked out of the pizza shop together.

Could it be that the secret was leaked right at that moment!?

Juan couldn't help but groan, "Was it Li, was it Li who told you? It's a misunderstanding, I swear, this is all a misunderstanding!"

The two jacket-wearing men looked at each other and then laughed.

One of them said, "Poor guy, he doesn't know anything."

"Who could have thought?"

"True, a full eight-person Tier 1 team, protecting him in 24-hour shifts. I really don't understand..."

"Haha, to be honest, I'm not surprised at all. If I were him, I would definitely do this too. Think about the numbers in the bank account. I would definitely protect myself well too."

Juan was dizzy from listening. But he was also certain that his absurd guess was not wrong!

He couldn't help but shout, "Could you please call Li? Brother, I want to apologize to him. I was wrong, really! Things aren't the way he thinks they are. Can you give me a chance?"

The sound of police sirens could already be heard in the distance.

Hu An's desperate pleading was of no use; as he looked at the cold expressions of the two white men, his heart sank deeper and deeper.

Just then, he suddenly felt a chill on his face.

It turned out to be a few raindrops that had suddenly fallen.

Finally, he collapsed on the ground, exhausted, and asked with difficulty, "Can you tell me who he actually is?"

"Go home and watch TV," said a man in a jacket.

(End of chapter)