Chapter 83: Answers, Hide-and-Seek, and Protecting Family Interests

Lans looked at Jason, disheveled and bloody, and shook his head slightly before glancing at Hyram. “Get some water.”

He turned to Jason. “Before you give me your answer, think first whether you should lie to me—and then think what will happen when I uncover your lie.”

There was a faucet right by the door; after all, this was the Federal Union, where the water was sweet—who could resist drinking it anytime, anywhere?

He let Jason sip some water first, then dampened a cloth with it and wiped the blood from his face, making him look considerably better.

“Now you can tell me. First question,” he walked to the side, opened a folding chair, and sat down. “Where is the money hidden?”

Lans already knew where the money was hidden—Lawen had seen everything—but he still asked, to test whether this man still harbored delusions of luck.

He also wanted to give him the impression that he knew everything.

It was over four thousand credits, but right now, compared to health—or even survival—money seemed unimportant.

“In Empire District, Seventeenth Street...”

Before he finished, Lans stopped him. Seeing Jason’s confused expression, Lans smiled faintly, his expression inscrutable. “Behind House Twenty-Two is a trash bin. Should I go on?”

“I know everything. I just wanted to see if you lied to me.”

Jason froze, his face filled with terror.

House Twenty-Two was a row of apartments, with a narrow alley behind it holding several trash bins.

He had once rented a room there with others, and while throwing out trash, he noticed one brick at the back of a bin was loose enough to pull out.

He broke off half of it, shoved it back in, creating a hollow space about ten centimeters deep and wide, five centimeters high.

Unless someone examined it closely, they wouldn’t notice—even if they saw it—and there was another trash bin outside.

He often hid important things there—mostly money—and so far, nothing had gone wrong, and no one knew.

But Lans had named it outright, making him realize someone might have been following him—and now he dared not lie.

“Yes, yes, the money’s all there!”

Lans nodded without comment. “Second question: how many people know you’ve become rich?”

Jason began sweating; the salt in his sweat stung his wounds, and with the heat, he sweated even more.

He looked at Lans with pleading eyes. “I don’t know. After I hid the money, I left with fifty credits, bought a pack of fifty-cent cigarettes on the way...”

He winced as he recalled. “...then went to a bar. I wanted a drink—we’d just done something huge, and I was nervous. I needed to relax.”

“The guy at the bar who exchanged change, the bouncer, the bartender, my three friends, the stripper, and maybe some other patrons—they might know I had money.”

“I... I did something stupid, Mr. Lans. I bought my friends two drinks.”

“And went up to the private stage.”

Elvin heard this and wanted to rush forward and beat the bastard—but Lans stopped him.

“In other words, at least a dozen people—or more—know you’ve come into money.”

Most people who went to strip bars didn’t rent private stages—they were too expensive.

Few would pay extra for a better view when they could watch for free downstairs.

The dancers performed on a circular stage in the main hall, mostly near or around the bar, showing off their moves in different directions—wherever more money was thrown, they focused more.

This was actually a clever way to stimulate spending: if you wanted to see more, see better, you had to throw more money.

The more you threw, the more attention they gave you—even interacting with you—while others could only catch side or back views, unless they started throwing money too.

It was a clever tactic to boost spending, especially when the bar was busy; some fools would compete by throwing even more money onto the stage.

Especially after two drinks—I’m damn well gonna make her dance for me!

Those who thought like that and got drunk would start competing, throwing more and more.

You throw one credit, I throw two. This was the dancers’ favorite time—earning big money with no extra effort, and most bars took no cut from this; it all went to the dancers.

But sometimes dancers would give the bar a token amount to ensure protection.

Those who disliked competing would rent their own room.

Jason had money in his pocket and felt light as air—he no longer wanted to watch with others. He went straight upstairs; the minimum charge for a private stage was ten credits, and he couldn’t skip tipping.

Some special dance moves were only shown after paying a certain amount.

Buying drinks for friends was understandable, but renting a private stage? That wasn’t because you’d made a little or were in a good mood—it meant you’d made a fortune.

“Did you tell anyone how you got this money?” Lans asked.

Jason understood the gravity—he dared not lie now. “No, Mr. Lans. I swear no one knows where this money came from. I swear on my mother’s life—I didn’t say a word!”

Seeing his face twisted by fear and pain, Lans chose to believe him—for now.

He stood and walked outside; Elvin and Hyram followed.

“Lawen,” Lans called. Lawen immediately came over. “Go retrieve his money. Then go inside and get measured by the tailor—new clothes by month’s end.”

Lawen’s face lit up. “Yes, boss! I’m on it!”

Watching Morris drive off with him, Elvin asked, “What do we do with him?”

Hyram said nothing, standing quietly beside him.

Lans thought for a moment. “Go to Mr. Cotty. Get me several oil drums and cement.”

“We’ve been in Jincheng City long enough without ever visiting Angel Lake. It’s time to see what all the fuss is about—they say the scenery there is beautiful.”

Elvin nodded and drove off in another car. Lans turned to Hyram. “I plan to execute him.”

Hyram was prepared—and accepted the outcome. “We knew each other, but he did what he shouldn’t have. This is his due.”

Lans was glad Hyram understood. After all, Hyram and Jason had once been in the same small group. No matter how long they’d known each other or how close they’d been, at least some face had to be saved for Hyram.

He always believed one thing: if you want others to respect you, you must first learn to respect them.

Lans once knew a man who beat and cursed his subordinates. His favorite line: “Would they dare rebel?” Until they found his suitcase hidden in a roadside abandoned sewer.

His own men had done it—unable to endure his temper, they played hide-and-seek with him. Who knew he was such a good hider? He vanished for days—even his best friends and family couldn’t find him.

If not for the stench that built up over time, he might have stayed hidden in that sewer much longer.

So Lans always protected the faces of those around him—whether boss, friend, or subordinate.

Hyram now even volunteered: “I’ll do it.”

Lans patted his arm. “I will. It’s my responsibility.”

The two locked eyes for a moment; Hyram looked away, no longer insisting.

“And the other one—I’m not confident. Are your people still watching him?”

Hyram nodded. “Still watching. If he causes trouble again, let me handle him!”

This time, Lans didn’t refuse. “I hope nothing happens. None of us want that.”

Today the office closed unusually early—at 5:30. This was also because few people came in the afternoon; all thirty-seven were present.

Everyone was young; the oldest was Merro, twenty-three.

The rest were seventeen to twenty, men and women alike. Together, they were lively, and all looked forward to the new clothes.

As Lans arrived, everyone stood. He raised a hand, gesturing them to sit, then walked to the front.

“I’ve called you here today for two reasons.”

“First, we’ve been together two months. After long darkness, our dawn has finally come. I want to reward you all.”

“Today, I’ve arranged new clothes for you—just part of it. We need a new face to begin a new life.”

“Tomorrow we’re camping at Angel Lake. I’ve had Ethan prepare food: fifty pounds of beef, steaks, lamb chops, fruit, and vegetables. I guarantee everyone will eat their fill!”

The young people loved excitement and fun; someone immediately cheered, whistled, and everyone smiled.

Elvin stomped his foot, and the noisy cheers quieted somewhat.

Then, as Lans spoke again, silence fell. “Second matter: something terrible happened today.”

“First, you must all understand: we are not safe.”

“Our illegal immigrant status, loan sharks, and even the union’s growing resistance to our labor office—any one of these could explode, and we’d lose everything we have.”

“So we must be more united than anyone else.”

“But today, someone tried to push us to the edge of a cliff, forcing us into terrible danger. I cannot forgive that.”

“He would drag us back to living in storm drains, starving, freezing, and being bullied.”

“He might even get us killed by someone’s gun!”

“That’s why I hate him so deeply.”

“We are a family. I don’t want any of you harmed—even if someone must go to hell for it, I hope it’s me.”

“And that is the second matter: I will execute the man who tried to destroy us...”