Chapter 882: Chips

"Sir, breakfast is ready."

The fat cook placed everything on the table. At her reminder, Lans smiled and set the newspaper in his hand aside.

In truth, from his perspective, this fat cook certainly possessed culinary skills, but whether she had any truly exceptional experience was another matter.

Because sometimes, using high-quality ingredients to prepare food doesn't require complex cooking techniques; for instance, some top-tier ham doesn't even need to be cooked.

You only need to slice off a thin piece and mix it into whatever you're eating, and it will taste delicious.

After years of aging, the unique fragrance of the fats, combined with the complex aroma that permeated the muscle fibers during the curing process, created a highly unique flavor!

There is certainly a reason why top-tier ham is expensive and sells well, and whether it's good or not, you can tell the moment you taste it.

If ingredients like these can taste great without even being cooked, then how could this cook, who had always served nobles and used top-tier ingredients, fail to make something delicious?

If what she made didn't taste good, there was only one possibility—the ingredients weren't fresh.

Lans remembered a story he had read before, about a pig's trotter that could sell for a sky-high price.

Many people were curious about how a pig's trotter could be made to taste so good, and it wasn't until the owner retired that he revealed the secret.

He used tens of thousands of dollars worth of supplementary ingredients to prepare a single pig's trotter; let alone a pig's trotter, even an insole wouldn't taste bad.

The secret to cooking, for the most part, lies right here.

Being willing to spend money.

Since the fat cook arrived, she had indeed brought some changes; the ingredients in the villa had become more expensive.

Lans used to think bacon that cost a few dollars a pound was actually quite good, but now that it had been replaced by bacon costing over ten dollars, the taste was naturally even better.

He didn't expose the fat cook's secret to "making delicious food." Her son had died, her son's wife had run off, and only her two grandchildren remained.

To avoid continuing to endure that terrible environment within the Empire, she had run away.

Every month, Lans would give her a salary of one hundred dollars, enough for her and her two grandchildren to live very well.

At this moment, the fat cook stood by the dining table, feeling somewhat uneasy. "Mr. Lans, is the breakfast to your liking?"

Lans smiled and nodded, his face full of sunshine. "Of course, it's very delicious. Thank you for the breakfast."

The fat cook's face beamed with joy. She nodded repeatedly. "I won't disturb you while you eat, sir."

In her eyes, Lans was like an angel who had saved her and her family from the despair they were sinking into.

She subconsciously glanced at the newspaper on the table. On the front page, a photo of someone lying on the ground with their head turned to the side, the ground soaked in fresh blood, and their eyeballs bulging outward, made her heart thump with fear.

She hurriedly lowered her head and turned to leave. It was too terrifying!

This report was written exactly to Lans's liking. Someone had to stand up and tear away the hypocritical facade; if they didn't reveal the true interior and prick the hearts of ordinary people, they would just keep playing dumb.

In fact, even now, they remained chips.

Ms. Debbie also saw this news in the morning, and she broke into a bit of a sweat.

Sweating in the summer is normal, but she was breaking into a cold sweat; she was very uneasy.

She knew this person, Oge, because he was the one she had recommended to Lans, and he had been working for Lans.

At the time, she had even told Lans that Oge was a very skilled local master tailor, and quite a few garment factories were queuing up waiting for him to resign.

That he was able to join Lans's garment factory was purely out of respect for her!

People, if they want to elevate themselves, don't need to jump; they just need to appropriately exaggerate the difficulty.

But now, looking at Oge's dead-eyed stare, Ms. Debbie only felt a fear from the bottom of her heart spreading uncontrollably within her body!

She shivered and dropped the newspaper in her hand, but soon picked it up again and began to read it carefully.

These matters had to do with her; she had to figure out exactly what had happened.

After finishing the newspaper, she quickly gathered the workers in the city who were protesting and demonstrating due to the strike initiated by the Labor Alliance, and brought them all together.

"You should have already seen the news in the paper." Ms. Debbie's tone was very heavy, though not because she truly felt sad or grieved over Oge's death.

To her, Oge was nothing more than a chip held in the hands of her, Lans, and some big shots.

She possessed the entry-level performance expected of an entry-level politician.

Over a hundred people came to this gathering, and the size of their group was constantly growing. Although the Labor Alliance had helped them sue the refugees who had attacked them.

The refugees were also willing to pay compensation, but they had no money.

Everyone expressed a willingness to actively compensate and actively admit their mistakes and repent, but as for money, there was none.

Moreover, they were refugees with no executable assets. In other words, they had won the lawsuit but lost their livelihood.

Everyone was very depressed, and seeing such news today, some people's emotions had already collapsed.

"This is not his fault!" Standing in the middle of the crowd, Debbie waved the newspaper in her hand, making a rustling sound that was somewhat grating. "Did he do anything wrong?"

"No, he did nothing wrong. He followed the demands of the Labor Alliance: strike, take to the streets, protest, demonstrate."

"I knew Oge. He was a good father, a good husband. He had no arrogance, was serious and responsible about his work, and was full of love for his family."

"He was a good man, but now, because he participated in the Labor Alliance strike, his life stopped forever yesterday!"

"If we must find someone who is guilty, then that person is the Labor Alliance!"

The people around her stared at her without blinking. In fact, as an intellectual, Ms. Debbie knew very well that the guilty person was sitting in one of the most luxurious offices in this city, examining his "Empire" through strings of numbers on the paper in front of him.

But no one would associate it with here, because everything had completely stopped at the step where those refugees pleaded guilty and were willing to pay compensation.

Karl was nowhere to be found, the case ended there, and they didn't even have the chance to appeal.

The guy had fucking pleaded guilty, it wasn't like he didn't plead guilty, and the judge had also completely favored their side in the verdict. What else did they want?

It was precisely because of this that they were lost.

Why did they become the biggest victims?

At this moment, Ms. Debbie's words gave them an outlet to vent their dissatisfaction with the status quo. A strong man stood up.

One of his arms was fixed in a splint and hung across his chest. He waved his fist forcefully. "Right, it's all the Labor Alliance's fault!"

"They should be responsible for our injuries!"

Ms. Debbie liked seeing this scene. It was like a war between the sexes; one person acting alone wouldn't work, the other person also had to act.

She nodded and looked at the strong man. "You are absolutely right. If it weren't for their demands, we wouldn't have given up our jobs to protest, and the things that followed wouldn't have happened."

"As the organizers, when we can't get enough compensation, they should stand up and bear all our losses, instead of hiding and continuing to use us to achieve their ugly goals!"

"We cannot remain silent!" Ms. Debbie was not tall, nor was her build strong, but her words gave people a feeling of great power.

More people stood up. Of course, there were also some who couldn't stand up; they would raise their hands to show their support for this matter.

"What are you going to do?"

"We all support you!"

"Right, let's do it!"

Ms. Debbie pursed her lips and nodded. "I have an appointment with a reporter from the *Federal Post*. He will interview us and has promised to give us a huge amount of space in the *Federal Post*!"

"We just need to tell them everything we have encountered!"

She couldn't reach the reporters of the *Federal Post*. As the top political and current affairs newspaper in the Federation, some well-known reporters could threaten some politicians just by saying "I'm going to write about you in the newspaper," forcing them to compromise.

The chairman of the board of this newspaper once spoke about their influence in a non-serious tone—

"The first thing the President does every morning when he gets up and goes to the toilet is to have someone send in the *Federal Post*."

It represented the attitudes of top institutions like the Presidential Palace, Congress, and the Department of Defense. People used it to understand some changes in the top political circles of the country, as well as some things abroad, though not many.

In other words, as long as it could be published in the *Federal Post*, it meant that this news would enter the eyes of the President, the Vice President, the Secretary of State, and all members of both houses of Congress!

Although Ms. Debbie couldn't reach reporters at this level, Senator Cleveland could, and he didn't even need to come forward himself; Tom had already solved this problem for Lans.

Congress was very interested in what he was doing, and this was the reason Lans could gain a foothold in Congress. He made people feel that they couldn't leave him.

In the ten-plus years that the Labor Alliance had been tossing about, no one had ever been able to find its vital point as quickly as Lans, and then deal it a heavy blow!

The better Lans performed, the higher his value became.

The higher his value, the more the masters couldn't leave him.

And the more they couldn't leave him, the more his value would constantly increase.

Until one day, he could even stand on the two ends of the scale with the masters, and weigh them!

As the "initiator," Ms. Debbie knew very well that this was a huge opportunity, a huge opportunity for her own life value to be elevated!

In fact, the others didn't understand the *Federal Post* very well, but they were also very happy because a reporter from a big newspaper was going to interview them, and perhaps after the news was broadcast, it would change their situation.

After ten o'clock, the reporters from the *Federal Post* appeared at the place where they were gathering; a total of two people came.

One reporter, one intern reporter.

After simple pleasantries and taking photos, the reporter sat on the sofa. He held a notebook in his hand and looked at Ms. Debbie. "So, where should we start?"

Ms. Debbie thought for a while. "Let's start from when they contacted me to push for the strike, but I opposed the strike..."

The reporter looked up at Ms. Debbie with some surprise. "I heard that you are the supervisor of the Textile Office of the Liclai State branch of the Labor Alliance. Why, as a middle-level cadre, would you oppose the orders of the Labor Alliance?"

Ms. Debbie's peripheral vision caught the intern reporter who had already raised his camera. Her face seemed to start shining, full of a sense of justice. "Because the working people, the working class, are not tools for some people to fight for power and profit!"

Resounding and forceful. Although the reporter knew this was... a script, he still applauded Ms. Debbie's brilliant performance.

The interview went very smoothly. These workers, who were on the verge of bankruptcy due to their injuries or had already gone bankrupt, were full of resentment, and now they could finally vent it openly.

As the most important grassroots supporters of the Labor Alliance, they didn't appear as people perceived them to be—full of identification and gratitude toward the Labor Alliance; instead, they were full of resentment.

After the interview ended, the two reporters took the initiative to say goodbye, refusing Ms. Debbie's invitation to have lunch together, because they still had to go to Lans's side.

In Mr. Anderson's restaurant in the Bay Area, Lans received these two people.

It is very important to have one's own people in media outlets that can speak out like the *Federal Post*, so Lans was willing to make friends with these two reporters.

The reporter was also willing to get to know Lans, because this relationship could connect to Senator Cleveland.

From the Senator's perspective, he might just be someone recommended by someone casually; the next time he wanted to contact someone at the Senator's level, there would be no chance.

So he wanted to seize this opportunity even more. He knew very well what a Senator represented, unlike ordinary Federation people who felt "politicians are all elected by us"—that was too ridiculous!

Even when facing a gang leader like Lans, he performed very appropriately.

"Interview finished?" Before serving the meal, Lans asked.

The reporter nodded. "Ms. Debbie and her friends were very well prepared, and their emotions were very sufficient. We finished the interview in a short time."

"I have a premonition that this news will cause huge waves in the country!"

Lans was very satisfied. He leaned forward slightly and said in a slightly stronger tone, "When the cattle and horses on a farm are injured, the farm owner knows to go find a veterinarian to help them treat their pain."

"And these people, they are injured, and those who treat them like cattle and horses to be raised want to push the responsibility onto others."

"Not to mention, they are people, not cattle and horses. They should enjoy the protection of the law, and the law should not favor anyone."

"I believe in the fairness of the law, and I am also heartbroken by the plight of these people. I will hire a legal team to help them sue the Labor Alliance."

"If you are interested, you can do a long-term topic, because this matter will drag on for a long time."

Only then did he lean back. "There isn't just one or two people in the whole country who were injured because the Labor Alliance demanded strikes, protests, and demonstrations."

"If justice falls on a small handful of people, that is not justice!"

The reporter was filled with awe. This Mr. Lans was going to fight the Labor Alliance to the end!

Although he was a bit strange as to why a gang would be at odds with the Labor Alliance, he also knew that this was not his business.

He immediately expressed that he was very interested. "I will apply to the editor-in-chief, and there is a high probability that I will follow this case."

In fact, he couldn't follow the whole process himself; he would only personally step in for the more important links, and for the rest of the time, he would leave it to the intern reporters under him to do.

Exploitation is not something only capitalists do.

As long as a person has a little bit of power in their hands, they will use this power to exploit others, no matter who they are.

The subsequent meal was very pleasant. This place was considered the "headquarters" of Anderson's restaurant. Originally, the headquarters wasn't here, but because of what Lans did, he had to change places and open a new headquarters.

When leaving, Lans handed over an envelope, which was very thick.

The reporter hurriedly declined, but it was still stuffed into his pocket by Lans.

"I've been too busy lately to entertain you properly. This is my apology!"

"Next time you come, I will definitely take you around."

These polite words were just to let the reporter accept the money with peace of mind. The reporter himself knew very well, and he said a lot of words of thanks.

After all, he also touched the envelope; it was really thick.

After they returned to the hotel, he opened the envelope Lans had stuffed into his pocket. Inside were twenty-five twenty-dollar bills in cash.

He whistled, then pulled out two bills and handed them to the intern reporter, then said with great emotion, "Look, if you want to get rich, you don't necessarily have to start a business or do anything. As long as you have enough resources in your hands, getting rich is just that simple!"

He paused. "Alright, go wash the photos!"

"I also have to write a good article for this five hundred dollars."

He knew that this five hundred dollars was just the money for their first acquaintance. After they got familiar, maybe Lans would have bigger jobs for him.

He could see that Lans was not the kind of person who could always remain quiet. He would definitely keep causing some big things to happen!

Speaking of this matter, something very interesting also happened.

The article in *Today's Jincheng* mentioned that Oge had abused painkillers and was addicted. During the day, people from the pharmaceutical group saw this report and immediately found *Today's Jincheng*.

Although they didn't write what painkillers Oge used, this behavior had already damaged the interests of the pharmaceutical group.

They demanded that whether it was reprinted or whatever, these segments must be removed, otherwise they would sue the newspaper.

In fact, the pharmaceutical group had always known that their painkillers had a strong dependency, whether it was pills or those... super-effect injections.

But before the whole country and the whole world opposed them, they wouldn't stop; instead, they would continue to sell drugs crazily, excluding all obstacles.

Ordinary pills were all in small packages of three or five, only painkillers were in bottles of fifty or one hundred.

Of course, this was just a small episode. The reporter from the *Post* obviously understood this truth. When he summarized the "Oge Incident," he didn't even mention the problem of drug addiction.

They had encountered more of these types of problems and had long since had mature experience.

The two were full of energy. Besides the money Lans gave, creating a big news story was also what they longed for.

(End of chapter) ===== CHAPTER 883 =====