Chapter 22: An Independent Personality for Four Hundred Yuan

Anderson sat on a chair in the alley, smoking. He liked this quiet after the bustle, though it was only fleeting.

These past two years, business in Jincheng hadn’t been easy. The entire federation and the whole world knew Jincheng was creating an economic miracle, drawing countless “adventurers” and “gold seekers” from every corner of the globe.

The most common were illegal immigrants.

The federation had thirty-six states and hundreds of cities, yet most of these undocumented arrivals came to Jincheng—this alone revealed the city’s true nature.

If not for the thick scent of ink on banknotes drawing them in, why would they cross oceans to get here?

Were they truly here to build up the federation?

No. They came seeking their own miracles.

The flood of people from all walks of life made competition in Jincheng fierce. As competition intensified, profits shrank, and other problems arose.

Last year, the restaurant ran into trouble. First, his partner left him. He gave the man all the money he had left in exchange for one hundred percent ownership of the restaurant.

Second, his wife had an accident and fell, injuring herself.

The insurance company refused to pay any costs, claiming she hadn’t disclosed her slightly elevated blood pressure when purchasing the policy.

They also couldn’t prove her high blood pressure developed after the policy was bought.

So the insurer had grounds to believe her fall was directly linked to her hypertension, and that her concealment of her medical history caused this outcome—hence, they denied payment. They even took it to court.

Unsurprisingly, they lost.

That was the most infuriating part!

According to the policy, the insurer only needed to pay him about eight thousand yuan. Yet they’d rather spend over ten thousand yuan on a lawsuit than honor the contract and pay him.

In the end, he received no compensation, had to pay for his wife’s treatment himself, and also covered court fees.

At that point, he had no money left.

He went to the bank for a loan, but since he’d just finished suing the insurance company, the bank flagged his application as high-risk and demanded a strict review process—taking at least a month to approve.

With no cash on hand, he needed money fast to keep the restaurant running and cover household expenses, so he abandoned the idea of a bank loan.

Then, through a friend’s introduction, he approached several financial firms. Those greedy hyenas wanted to swallow his assets, trying to buy his restaurant’s shares for just a few thousand yuan.

Eventually, he found Lezhu Company. Though the interest was slightly higher, they demanded no collateral and showed no interest in his restaurant.

After a year of operation, the restaurant’s situation finally improved. Especially recently, his newly hired manager suggested a series of marketing strategies that kept the restaurant thriving.

That morning, he spent four hundred yuan to buy an ad in Today Jincheng and planned to rent the storefront next door to expand his business.

Though calls kept coming, urging him to fulfill the contract and repay the principal and the now-stopped interest, he never agreed.

Expansion needed money. Marketing needed money. He planned to spend the rest of his life living luxuriously off this restaurant. At this critical moment, how could he satisfy Alberto, that money-obsessed bastard?

He’d borrowed two thousand yuan—and now they wanted five thousand back. He’d never seen such outrageous interest. He refused to pay and didn’t mind taking them to court.

One was a restaurant owner striving to better his life through hard work; the other, a societal scum hiding in sewers, profiting from gray business. His lawyer told him: ignore Lezhu Financial entirely.

If they sued, the financial company would spend far more on litigation than they could recover—and might still lose.

If they didn’t sue, and the company tried anything, he could sue them directly and demand damages.

So all he had to do was stall.

With his lawyer’s assurance that there was no risk, Anderson naturally had no intention of returning the five thousand yuan he’d worked so hard to earn to Alberto.

I borrowed the money with my own effort—why should I pay it back?

Most people who refuse to repay debts think exactly this way.

As he considered how to negotiate for the neighboring property these next few days, his manager suddenly ran over. “Mr. Anderson, there’s been an incident in the restaurant.”

Anderson turned to him. “Did someone’s boot catch fire?”

He meant the manager’s rushed haste, but the manager knew this wasn’t the time for jokes.

“A customer found a cockroach in his soup. Worse—he bit it in half and spat it everywhere…”

Anderson froze, then stood up, crushed his cigarette underfoot, and headed toward the restaurant.

When he entered, his blood pressure spiked. The sour stench of vomit filled the air, causing most diners to stop eating.

People gathered around the table, murmuring. On it lay a pristine white napkin, holding two halves of a cockroach.

From their condition, they could be pieced back together into one whole.

Anderson had spent his entire life in restaurants—starting as an apprentice, then becoming a cook, finally serving as head chef at a renowned establishment.

Only a few years ago, after saving some money, he decided to be both chef and owner—and that’s how this restaurant came to be.

He valued this restaurant more than his own life!

In his youth, he’d faced many restaurant-related crises. He knew how to handle this.

He ordered staff to clean the vomit, then walked toward Lans. Just as he reached to wrap the cockroach halves in the napkin, Lans stepped between him and the insect. “You trying to destroy evidence?”

The watching eyes made Anderson’s scalp prickle. “I just want to resolve this. If you don’t mind, let’s talk in my office. I’m sure we can reach an understanding.”

His implication—“I can pay you off”—was obvious to everyone, including Lans.

So his voice rose sharply. “You think I’m trying to extort you?”

“My friend and I came to dine at your restaurant. Now we’ve found a cockroach in our food—and you think we’re here to blackmail you?”

“If you truly want to discuss this, do it here, in front of everyone. After all, we’re not the only victims. Others may have been affected too—they just don’t realize it yet.”

Lans’s words changed Anderson’s expression. The other diners watching grew uneasy.

If a cockroach crawled into one person’s soup, didn’t that mean it might have crawled over their utensils, their food—or even food they didn’t eat?

Someone immediately demanded to call the police, insisting the health bureau inspect the place.

If a restaurant became known for food safety issues, it was a devastating blow!

And he’d just bought that ad!

Though word spreading seemed inevitable, Anderson still didn’t want the scandal to grow.

He glanced at the two cockroach halves, silently cursing the two young kitchen staff responsible for hygiene.

He whispered two words to his manager. The manager stepped toward the crowd, blocking their view. “We apologize for today’s unfortunate incident. Mr. Anderson has instructed me: today’s lunches are all on the house…”

Meanwhile, Anderson noticed Elvin’s clothing.

He didn’t look like someone who could afford dining at a high-end restaurant. Anderson grew even more certain: these two were here to cause trouble.

With that thought, he began to doubt whether the cockroach had even come from his kitchen.

But he knew now wasn’t the time to question if they were blackmailers—he had to resolve the immediate hygiene and trust crisis.

He lowered his voice, avoiding touching the cockroach. “One hundred yuan. I apologize. Let’s end this here.”

“I know who you are. I know what you want. One hundred yuan isn’t little. Don’t push me too far…”

Elvin, gagging, said: “One hundred yuan won’t buy back my dignity!”

Lans just stared at him, showing no sign of compromise. Anderson took a deep breath. “Two hundred. That’s my final offer…”

“Five hundred.”

“This is extortion. Blackmail. Aren’t you afraid I’ll call the police?”

Lans placed a hand on Elvin’s back. “You scared me. I don’t want a single yuan now…”

Elvin gagged again, louder.

Anderson clenched his teeth, silently cursing Lans—but finally gave in. “Four hundred.”

“Deal!”

Lans stepped aside. Anderson grabbed the napkin, wrapped the cockroach remains, and shoved them into his pocket.

The manager had already handled the crowd. While Anderson negotiated compensation, he told the onlookers: “These two came to extort us. Their behavior was extreme, beyond our imagination. We apologize for today’s incident—and all meals today are free.”

“Also, next time you visit, show this card and receive a ten-yuan bottle of house wine.” He handed each person a card signed by him, clearly stating its purpose.

The wine’s menu price was 9.99 yuan, but its actual cost was under five yuan.

On the surface, giving away a bottle meant losing ten yuan—but those who came for the free wine wouldn’t just order three or five yuan worth of food.

As long as they spent over twenty yuan on meals, plus the free wine, it wasn’t profitless—it was just slim profit.

The manager handled it smoothly. Most accepted his explanation, though some remained skeptical.

When they saw the cockroach victim leave with Anderson, they realized the matter was over.

But it hadn’t truly ended…