Chapter 45: The Rolling Bills

Lans took a stack of cash from the drawer, counted out ten five-dollar bills, laid them in a straight line on the desk, counted them aloud in front of the gentleman, then stacked them again and handed them over.

“May I ask why you chose us?”

The gentleman said as he counted the money, “Only you were willing to lend me fifty dollars; everyone else thought it was too little, and the interest was too high.”

Before coming here, he had tried borrowing elsewhere, but clearly he had failed.

It’s not that fifty dollars offers no profit margin—it actually offers a substantial one.

According to current finance company practices, lending fifty dollars might require repayment of over a hundred dollars three months later; the interest rate is truly extremely high.

But there’s a problem here: whether this money can be recovered, and whether the costs incurred might exceed the profit.

It’s a simple calculation: if this gentleman refuses to repay or vanishes after the due date, would the expenses of sending two people in a car to find him and bring him back exceed the fifty-dollar profit?

It might take them a week to find him, plus other costs like meals on the road—fifty dollars wouldn’t even cover the expenses of locating him.

Even if they recovered the man and the money, there could still be a loss.

That’s why many finance companies aren’t eager to handle such small loans; the inflated interest rates also deter people—this is precisely why Lans focuses his business on amounts under a hundred dollars.

What they aren’t interested in, he will do—he’ll first expand the business, avoid competition, then consider scaling up later.

Lans made the gentleman not only sign but also affix his fingerprint, and added at the bottom: “I have carefully read the above terms and voluntarily accept them, assuming all legal consequences,” sealing the contract’s legality.

After counting the fifty dollars Lans handed him, the gentleman took the money and left happily.

Lans then took out a brand-new notebook, wrote down his partner’s name, and recorded the details of this transaction: “Once his debt is settled, you’ll earn a commission of four dollars and eighty cents from this order.”

The partner’s eyes crinkled into slits with joy—was he really making nearly five dollars?

This money was too easy to make!

Lans bumped fists with him, told him to keep going, then took the documents and headed to the nearest bank.

“What service are you here for, sir?”

A manager in the lobby approached him voluntarily—mainly because Lans’s attire looked different from that of common laborers, and he even seemed to own a car.

Wealth is the most effective pass in the Federation—from strip clubs to the Presidential Palace, it’s always true.

“I’d like to inquire about a loan.”

“A loan?”

“Please follow me…”

The two passed through the moderately well-decorated lobby and entered the credit loan office; the manager knocked, then let Lans in.

It was a private office; a gentleman in his forties sat behind the desk, stood up, walked over, and shook Lans’s hand, “Please sit. How may I address you, sir?”

“Lans.”

“Very well, Mr. Lans. You can call me Jonathan. As you see, my job is handling loans.”

“Then…” he rubbed his hands together, “how may I assist you?”

Lans placed two checks and the contract on the desk: “I want a loan of sixty-five dollars, for two months.”

Jonathan took a deep breath, first examined the two checks—ordinary ones, common to nearly everyone—and checked the account numbers: it was a union worker’s wage account.

Every month, this money flows through the union and into this account; it’s common in Jingang City.

The city has the most bottom-tier workers, so the union’s influence here is unusually strong.

Then he examined the contract carefully, confirmed there were no hidden tricks in the wording, and asked uncertainly, “So this is…”

“Collateral.”

“The owners of these two checks currently have no money in their accounts, but the first check will clear in a week—he’ll receive his first wage, thirty-seven dollars, all here.”

“This is his next month’s wage, also thirty-seven dollars. I’m using these two negotiable checks to borrow sixty-five dollars—is there a problem?”

Jonathan had never encountered this before; he was unsure. “To be honest, I don’t know.”

“What if… this… gentleman suddenly loses his job?” he tried to find a loophole to reject this loan he didn’t understand.

But Lans gave him no chance: “So I had him sign a work card lease agreement for four months—it can fetch at least sixty dollars from any illegal immigrant.”

“If you understand the market, you know the current market price for a work card has risen to twenty dollars per month.”

“In other words, there’s an eighty-dollar profit margin.”

The anti-illegal-immigrant uproar is ending, but its effects linger—most notably, the rental price of work cards has surged.

You could call it locals taking advantage of desperation, yet people still rent these cards.

Because illegal immigrants who’ve been out of work for a month or a month and a half have no savings—if they don’t work now, they’ll face starvation!

Free food distributions on the streets have nearly vanished; those crazy young people knock all food onto the ground to prevent helping those who can’t afford meals.

Jonathan was a local—he knew this well.

Currently, the bank’s personal loan interest rate is twelve percent annually—that’s one percent monthly interest.

Jonathan now found himself in a dilemma: he didn’t want to approve this deal because it was unique, unprecedented, and might bring him trouble.

But regardless of the loan’s size, it was still proof of employment—the bank valued this highly, what capitalists called “attitude.”

As he hesitated, Lans added weight to his side of the scale: “Actually, I’ve only brought one of many such deals, Mr. Jonathan.”

“Thousands, even tens of thousands, every month.”

“You’ve probably figured out what I do—so you needn’t worry about loan issues, because I resolve all problems before they become yours!”

Jonathan pursed his lips. “Thousands? Or tens of thousands?”

Lans nodded slightly. “Possibly more.”

He straightened up and studied the two checks and contract again. “But we’ve never handled anything like this, and in a week…”

“You can cash the check directly—I’m certain no one can cash it faster than you!”

Hearing this, he grew interested—it meant less risk: lock the account, allow deposits only, deduct what’s owed, leaving almost zero risk. “And the other one…”

“Same procedure—any surplus goes into my account.”

Jonathan considered for a long while, then placed the documents on the desk and extended his hand. “Cash or check?”

“Also, you must give me an authorization letter to operate these two checks—you know, in case of problems, we need to know who bears responsibility!”

Lans gripped Jonathan’s hand tightly. “No problem—you’ll find today is your luckiest day!”

Jonathan laughed and shook his arm twice. “Hope so…”

Such a strong guarantee made borrowing from the bank extremely easy—this meant Lans had already earned fifteen dollars in profit without doing anything.

Though two months later, the bank would deduct two percent of his “loan” amount—sixty-five dollars, or one dollar and thirty cents.

But compared to now receiving part of the sixty-five dollars, losing one dollar and thirty cents was entirely acceptable!

And during this process, capital kept rolling—meaning he could give the bank even more money, because the more he gave, the more he earned!

Elvin worried Lans didn’t have enough cash—if he truly had enough, he wouldn’t have even mediated for Alberto; he could’ve handled it himself!