Chapter 13: Take and Give as One Wills

He hadn’t even had time to enjoy the freedom of the Federation before he got fired.

Perhaps this unemployment was a good thing for these young people—it taught them a truth.

Even if they could endure exploitation and oppression, fate would never favor them.

They were merely at the bottom of this world, with no power to resist the forces above them.

When a person has no ability to resist being robbed, others won’t pity him—they’ll join the robbers.

Ethan wanted to argue with the manager, but Alvin gripped his clothes tightly, staring at him with an expression he’d never shown before—harsh, fierce—and slowly shook his head, telling him not to do it.

Angering the workers? The workers were just like them, same class—they’d cause trouble, call the cops, nothing more.

Every year, this city sees countless cases; the police won’t waste limited manpower on petty matters.

Spending tens or even hundreds of dollars on police costs to handle worthless cases? They’d be insane to do that!

But angering management—even just a low-level official—ends differently.

Alvin stepped to the front. “Sir, after this storm passes…”

The manager stared at Alvin for a moment, then nodded. “Of course, you’re always welcome here.”

“Alvin, you’re smart, so I’ll say more to you.”

“You see, this place can’t function without you. So I believe this storm won’t last long—just hide for now.”

Alvin forced out a slightly awkward smile. “What about our… wages during this time?”

The manager acted as if he hadn’t heard, continuing: “The company won’t let the docks shut down. The city hall won’t either. Just be ready to return anytime, and wait for our call…”

In this way, he gently told Alvin: the money was gone.

The wages of thousands for half a month were no small sum to the management company.

And they didn’t have to pay it—it was legal. After all, these people were all undocumented.

The manager raised his hand as if to pat Alvin’s shoulder, but seeing the dust-covered shoulder, he retracted it. “Good luck, Alvin.”

As for the others, he didn’t even consider them worth noticing.

The young men were angry but helpless. In the past month, though they hadn’t fully grasped the Federation’s social hierarchy, they’d gained some awareness.

“What do we do now?” one of them asked.

Alvin pulled a strand of hair and rolled it between his fingers. “Find Lans. Maybe he has an idea.”

The main gate of the docks was surrounded by a group of protesters. Some of the young people looked unstable, striking the fence and gate with sticks.

Nearby, the police ignored their violent behavior, munching donuts, sipping coffee, half-sitting on their car hoods, chatting and enjoying their meals.

Perhaps because Alvin’s group was the largest, the protesters treated them like they’d discovered a new continent—several leaders turned to stare at them.

Soon, most of the roughly thirty-to-forty-person group grabbed sticks and marched toward them.

The young men were overwhelmed. Alvin saw the police showed no intention to intervene. He shoved Ethan and Merro hard, shouted “Run!” and bolted into the docks.

They knew this place well—where to hide, where not to hide.

Outside, the police still had no intention to act, still eating their cloyingly sweet donuts, drinking their syrupy coffee.

The chief said: letting off some steam has positive effects.

As long as no one dies… no, in an event already called a “storm,” a few deaths wouldn’t matter.

Some people were just different from normal folks—or rather, the social mood, amplified by politicians and capitalists, had spread to more people.

Some locals, not even here to protest, had recklessly joined this “celebration” that looked like a crackdown on illegal immigrants.

By two in the afternoon, the dock management company decided people had vented enough and called the Jinguang City Police Bureau.

Soon, dozens of police cars arrived, and large numbers of officers with rattan shields and rubber batons entered the docks, pinning down those attacking illegal immigrants and cuffing them.

Those lying in pools of blood or already injured? Ignored.

They looked like they were enforcing the law fairly—but this fairness always smelled like rotten salted fish.

Alvin’s group was lucky—they were numerous, and after being beaten, they tried to fight back—

They grabbed their attackers, not to hurt them, but to hold them, preventing injury.

In this way, they minimized harm, but several were still beaten bloody.

These young men, their faces covered in blood, wore expressions of raw terror. Their earlier dreams of a bright future had been nearly wiped clean in this violent chaos.

The mayor urgently addressed the city, ordering all police to patrol the streets, banning any further escalation, and authorizing lethal force against those who looted, burned, vandalized, and resisted arrest.

Gunfire crackled intermittently all afternoon, only dying down by seven.

Lans mechanically swept the bakery. The fat boss returned with a truck, stacking many items in the warehouse.

Because something unimaginable had happened in the city today, the fat boss had Lans flip the “Open” sign to “Closed” after seven.

He was doing final cleaning; after that, he’d lock up.

Just then, the doorbell jingled: “Tian ling ling, di ling ling.” “Sorry, we’re closed.”

Lans kept sweeping, head down, but the visitor didn’t leave. Instead, they asked: “Where’s Mr. Johnny?”

Lans finally stopped, leaned on the mop, and looked up.

A woman, about thirty-four or thirty-five, wore a slightly outdated half-collared blouse and a wine-red long skirt.

Though her clothes were outdated, her looks and figure added much to her presence.

A kind of beauty that operated on a different plane from “fashion.”

“He’s in back. Should I call him?”

The woman nodded. Lans ran to the back window and shouted through it: “Boss, someone’s here for you.”

“Who wants me?” Johnny stepped out, ledger in hand. When he saw the woman, he frowned slightly.

Before he could speak, she walked over, pulled him into the break room, and shut the door.

Watching the locked door, Lans sneered. “Lucky bastard.”

This wasn’t Johnny’s ex-wife or current wife—he hadn’t remarried after his divorce. He’d never seen this woman before.

As he turned to resume work, he noticed the apprentice standing by the door, staring at the closed door with wounded, hateful eyes.

His fists were clenched white.

Lans walked over and nudged him with his elbow. “You know her?”

The apprentice whirled on Lans, voice sharp: “You better not fuckin’ mind your business!”

Lans shot back: “Is she your mom?”

The apprentice glared at him, eyes reddening, then turned and stormed back into the kitchen. Lans realized: it was his mom.

The room was loud. Johnny clearly didn’t care anyone was outside—he was roughing up the woman. Even outside, her pleas were audible.

Lans figured the apprentice heard too. The bakery was silent now; any sound carried, especially through a door that didn’t seal well.

The whole thing lasted about fifteen minutes before Johnny stepped out, satisfied. “This is the last time!”

He threatened the woman: “For your sake.”

The woman, pale, adjusted her skirt, covered her face, and fled the bakery. Lans walked to the door and mopped up the mess left behind.

The fat boss glanced at him. “Be thorough. If I find one spot you missed, you’re going to bed hungry tonight!”

He returned to the warehouse—there were many new items to inventory.

After finishing his work, Lans went to the kitchen. The apprentice stood at the counter, rubbing his hands repeatedly.

Lans walked beside him, leaning against the counter. “Talk?”

The apprentice said nothing.

Just as Lans was about to find a way to speak with him, someone pushed the door open—he had to abandon the moment.

When he entered the front room, he saw it was Alvin—his head covered in blood.

Blood clung to his hair; his face had been wiped, but traces remained.

His expression turned serious. He hurried over to check. “Who did this to you?”

Alvin felt his nose sting. “It doesn’t matter, Lans. This afternoon, there was a clash at the docks. We got beaten then.”

“We hid until just now, then ran out in the dark. A few others are like this too.”

“We’ve been temporarily fired…”