Chapter 96

For the lower classes, the cheapest, lowest-quality whiskey under a dollar—ideally under fifty cents—is what they truly need.

But from James’s level, and the big shots he’s about to associate with, discussing such low-priced liquor holds no practical value.

Only expensive liquor matters.

Arthur nodded, pride in his voice: “My first batch was mid- to high-end—Gold Label and Dulan.”

James glanced at Senator Williams, who had closed his eyes; in James’s mind, the label of “idiot brother” on Arthur was now permanently fixed.

He didn’t even know what to stock first or second; his profit this time was pure luck.

If he hadn’t had a good father who timely warned him about Jincheng’s alcohol ban, he wouldn’t have made a single cent from alcohol.

But… whose last name is Williams, after all?

“Tell me exactly what you’ve got and how much you plan to sell it for—the rest is my problem. Just wait for the money.”

“Also, with this much money, you need to consult someone on legal tax avoidance—or taxes will bury you.”

Arthur described the wines, then suddenly remembered something: “There’s a small issue.”

He scratched his cheek: “I mortgaged those high-end bottles to Chobaf…”

James frowned: “You plan to get your liquor back some other way?” Before William could speak, he shook his head: “Chobaf recently backed the mayor’s municipal project—he’s the mayor’s man. Don’t use your dirty tricks on him anymore.”

“Follow the agreement you signed.”

William was surprised: “How much did he give the mayor?”

“Three hundred fifty thousand, plus a hundred thousand in political donations,” James added, sensing William’s confusion: “At least twenty-five thousand per quarter.”

Four hundred fifty thousand.

Arthur fell silent: “I understand.”

James had Arthur hand over all the documents, then left—he valued his time too much.

After returning, Lans ordered everyone from the warehouse back; it had been Ethan and his men guarding it, and their recall signaled the liquor had been sold.

Lans didn’t hide it: “Four hundred sixty-five thousand. I’ll put two hundred thirty thousand into the company account. If you have time, find a suitable, safe house nearby.”

“Preferably a row house with a yard—we can connect a few units together.”

He glanced at Enio: “You handle it. Morris will drive you.”

Enio gladly agreed; his arm still had a long way to heal. Though he no longer wore a splint, he still couldn’t bear weight or endure impact.

He couldn’t do any real work—only run errands.

Lans gave them twenty dollars for errands, gas, and food—no employee should use their own money to cover company expenses; that was a bottom line.

All afternoon, Lans was away from the office, touring industrial zones to gauge the market.

The next morning, Lans went to the City Business Services Bureau—to check on Patricia—and also to register a new company.

“So what are you doing this time?” Patricia handed him a form; colleagues around them smiled, though some looked saddened.

As he filled out the form, Lans replied: “I’m registering a clothing company—to produce garments.”

Patricia was curious: “What exactly do you do? Why does every business you jump into have such a huge gap?”

“One moment it’s a consulting firm, next a labor agency, now a clothing factory?”

Lans shrugged: “I need at least tens of thousands of garments—even if they make me only ten cents profit per piece, that’s thousands of dollars.”

“And later I’ll produce even more clothes—so why not own the factory myself?”

“And it won’t cost much.”

Jincheng City Hall encourages setting up enterprise factories—it creates more jobs for Jincheng and the state’s residents.

Jobs affect social order, stability, and politicians’ approval ratings, so they take this seriously.

Capitalists can pressure the Federal Government not just because they have money, connections, and dirt on officials—but most importantly, because they control people’s jobs and income.

That’s the most terrifying weapon: they don’t even need to stand against the government. Just tell workers, “Because of this policy, the factory must shut down temporarily,” and the angry, fearful workers will tear the government apart.

No matter the need, holding more job positions brings only benefits, no downsides.

Land outside Jincheng is cheap—you can acquire it for next to nothing, with only one hard requirement: provide jobs based on square footage for society.

If you meet it, the land is practically free.

If you don’t, you pay various fees—written into the contract.

Patricia listened and shook her head: “Hard to imagine why you’d need so many clothes—but who cares!”

“Are you free this weekend?”

Lans handed her the completed form: “Not certain, but I’ll try. I’ll tell you Saturday afternoon.”

As she processed his form, Patricia whispered: “My cousin’s birthday is Sunday. William’s going to the state government. My mom and others have planned a picnic—I don’t want to go alone.”

“I’ll try!”

He added: “If I want to acquire land nearby, can William handle it?”

Patricia shook her head: “I don’t know. I’m not interested in his work.”

After Lans left, Patricia’s colleagues couldn’t help asking her about him—and now she openly admitted everything, no longer shy.

He then went straight to City Hall and found William at the Public Works Office.

Seeing the other four people and their desks in the office, Lans decided to speak with William outside.

Luckily, City Hall had no strict rule requiring civil servants to stay at their desks; the two sat down at a café by the building’s entrance.

“I want to acquire industrial land and open a factory,” Lans said bluntly. “Who do I talk to?”

“The Land Administration Bureau—but someone in City Hall can handle it too. You’re opening a factory?”

“A garment factory.” He briefly explained his reasoning: “So they’ll take the profit from my factory—why not own it myself?”

“Even if I have no personal need, I can take orders from others—as long as it doesn’t become a financial burden.”

William had to admire Lans’s thinking: “A mature, sharp idea. You’re right—providing jobs earns you more policy favors.”

“Even if you bend the rules a little elsewhere.”

William had investigated Lans more thoroughly now; since he was in the “approved” phase, clarity on Lans’s activities was essential.

High-interest loans exploiting legal loopholes—small amounts aren’t illegal; large amounts aren’t either.

Labor agency—no federal law prohibits renting or transferring work cards; only those without cards or permanent residency are barred from working in the Federation.

He doesn’t do illegal business—but it’s not legal either.

At this point, if he provides social jobs, any problems that arise become easier to resolve.

That’s the Federation’s mindset.

After discussing his own matters, Lans grew curious about William’s situation: “You don’t seem happy in City Hall—everyone else has private offices, but yours has five people.”

“Have you considered changing environments?”

William showed no resentment: “Because I’m a Federal Party member.”

“Here, they don’t care about my ability—only my political stance.”

“It’s the same everywhere.”

“In Federal Party territory, Free Party and Social Party members fare no better than I do.”

“Even if I moved to Federal Party strongholds, my situation wouldn’t improve much—I lack backing, no one supports me. I won’t be better off; I might even be worse, since they’d see me as a threat.”

“But here, no one sees me as a threat—so it doesn’t matter to me.”

Slacking off.

Slacking off with full justification: as a City Hall civil servant, enjoying the best pay and benefits, this slacking is what many desire.

“Have you considered climbing higher?”

William glanced at Lans: “When you’re sitting in that seat, we can discuss it.”

“It’s too early now.”

Lans didn’t mind his refusal: “I just want to know—how much does it cost to push someone like you up?”

William frowned: “You’ve clearly made a lot of money.” He thought a moment: “Tens of thousands—but it’s pointless.”

“Even if I ran an office, I’d still just follow the mayor’s daily orders—not do what I want.”

Lans asked: “What about city councilor?”

William was surprised: “Do you have so much money you can’t spend it?”

Still, he answered: “It’s a long-term investment. Jincheng has ten districts—you need massive support and votes in one district first.”

“Once elected, I’d need about fifteen thousand per year just to cover basic costs for me and my team—that’s if you do nothing.”

“If we want to do something, we host political events, invite supporters—do you know why many city councilors serve for decades?”

“Because the cost to install a new councilor is huge, but the returns aren’t guaranteed!”

He drained the last of his coffee: “If you want a worthwhile councilor, prepare at least sixty thousand per year.”