The night in Belleville, Paris, is much dirtier than the Champs-Élysées.
After the car drove into the city district, Luca slowed down.
Neon lights flickered along the street.
Chinese signs, Vietnamese restaurants, Turkish kebab shops, cheap supermarkets, and phone card stores were crammed together.
The wet pavement reflected the lights.
Beside a trash can, a drunkard was leaning against the wall smoking.
At the entrance of a convenience store, several young people were shouting at each other in accented French.
This place and Montlais Winery were two different worlds.
Chaos.
Greed.
In the corners, a hand lurked, ready at any moment to tear a piece of flesh off someone.
Luca gripped the steering wheel, his gaze sweeping across both sides of the street.
"The security here is very poor."
Jiang Lin leaned back in the backseat.
"I know."
"Did you live here before?"
"I've lived in worse places."
The car stopped at the entrance of a narrow street.
The road ahead was too narrow to drive in.
Jiang Lin pushed the door open and got out.
The night wind rushed in, carrying the smell of grilled meat, smoke, the dampness after rain, and the stench of sewers.
Luca walked to his side.
"Do you need me to go in first?"
"No need."
"How many people does he have?"
"Two upstairs, three in the basement, and maybe a doorman."
Luca frowned.
"Are you sure?"
"I'm sure."
They crossed the narrow street and walked into the laundromat.
The wind chime on the door rang once.
A few old washing machines were spinning.
A Chinese variety show was playing on a TV in the corner.
The volume was loud, but it couldn't drown out the faint noise coming from the basement.
Behind the counter, a young Chinese man with dyed yellow hair was playing on his phone with a cigarette in his mouth.
He looked up, saw Jiang Lin, paused for a moment, and then sneered.
"Yo, isn't this Jiang Lin? Brother Zhao has been looking for you all night."
Jiang Lin ignored him and walked straight inside.
The yellow-haired man stood up immediately.
"Hey, you motherf—"
Before he could finish, Luca pressed his shoulder and pushed him back onto the chair.
The yellow-haired man's expression changed instantly.
Luca looked down at him and said in French.
"Sit still."
Jiang Lin lifted the curtain at the back door and walked down into the basement along a narrow staircase.
The basement smelled terrible.
Dampness, smoke, the smell of instant noodles, and the musty odor of a place that hadn't seen sunlight in years.
At the end of the stairs was an iron door.
The door wasn't fully closed.
Zhao Hong's voice came from inside.
"I'm telling you, in Paris, you have to know the rules to get things done."
"Leaving your passports with me is to provide you with a safety net."
"Do you think those Frenchies out there care whether you live or die?"
A young woman asked with a sob.
"Brother Zhao, my mother is sick, I really need to go back."
"I'll pay back the money I owe you slowly, can you just give me my passport first?"
"Pay back slowly? Go accompany a few tables of guests at the bar tomorrow, and the debt will be cleared in three months."
The woman cried and begged him.
Jiang Lin pushed the door open.
The iron door made a harsh sound.
The people in the basement looked over at the same time.
The room was small.
There was an old sofa, a mahjong table, and an iron cabinet against the wall.
The iron cabinet was locked, and a few suitcases were piled next to it.
There were three men in the room.
And a young woman with red, teary eyes.
The fat man sitting on the sofa was Zhao Hong.
He was thirty-seven or thirty-eight, had a buzz cut, wore a gold chain around his neck, and held a cigarette in his hand.
"Oh, Jiang Lin, you finally came."
He stubbed the cigarette into an ashtray and stood up.
"I thought that since you climbed up to a noble person, you had forgotten Brother Zhao."
Jiang Lin walked into the basement.
Luca followed behind him and closed the door behind them.
The other two men immediately became vigilant.
One of them reached out toward an iron bar beside the table.
Luca glanced at him.
The man's hand stopped.
Zhao Hong's gaze swept over Luca.
"You brought someone? Not bad, Jiang Lin, you've grown some skills after being out for one night."
Jiang Lin looked at the woman with red, teary eyes.
She was in her early twenties, wearing a cheap coat, clutching a crumpled IOU in her hand.
Chen Qian, from Fujian.
In his past life, she was introduced by Zhao Hong to accompany guests at a bar and later got involved in a drug case.
She disappeared in Paris within a few years.
"Stand behind me."
Chen Qian was stunned.
Zhao Hong's expression darkened.
"Jiang Lin, what do you mean by this?"
Jiang Lin didn't look at him.
"I said, stand behind me."
Chen Qian looked at Zhao Hong, then at Jiang Lin.
She gritted her teeth, hugged her bag, and quickly hid behind him.
"Jiang Lin, did you come back today to play the hero here?"
Jiang Lin pulled out a chair and sat down.
"Passport."
Zhao Hong stared at him.
"Where's the money?"
"Passport."
"Can't you understand human language? Fifty thousand euros. If you're short a single cent, your passport stays with me."
"Zhao Hong, I gave you a chance. You help me investigate that money from Pierre, twenty thousand euros, and the matter is settled."
Zhao Hong leaned back and lit another cigarette.
"The price has gone up now."
"On what grounds?"
"Because your passport is in my hands."
He raised his hand and pointed at Jiang Lin.
"Without a passport, if the police catch you, you'll be deported immediately. Fifty thousand euros is already giving you face."
"What if I don't pay?"
"Then you won't be leaving today."
The two men in the room stood up.
One picked up the iron bar.
The other blocked the door.
Chen Qian turned pale with fear.
Luca stepped forward.
Before the one holding the iron bar could react, his wrist was grabbed.
Crack.
The iron bar fell to the ground.
Before the scream could escape, Luca kicked him in the knee.
Bang.
The man fell to his knees, his face deathly pale.
The man at the door was about to rush over, but Luca grabbed an ashtray and smashed it into his shoulder socket.
He let out a muffled grunt and hit the wall.
The whole process took less than five seconds.
Zhao Hong's expression changed completely.
Luca picked up the iron bar and put it on the table.
Only the groans of the two men remained in the basement.
Jiang Lin looked at Zhao Hong.
"Can we talk now?"
"Jiang Lin, there's no need to make such a big scene, right? We're all Chinese, we're bound to see each other around."
"Just now you said I wouldn't be leaving today."
"Just a joke."
"Passport."
"I can give you the passport, but the fifty thousand euros—"
Jiang Lin took out his phone and played a recording.
Zhao Hong's voice rang out.
"Go accompany a few tables of guests at the bar tomorrow, three months, and the debt will be cleared."
Chen Qian's body trembled.
Zhao Hong's expression instantly turned gloomy.
"You recorded that?"
Jiang Lin didn't answer and opened a few photos.
The basement iron cabinet.
Passports.
IOUs.
Several people whose documents were confiscated.
And a photo of Zhao Hong standing with casino thugs.
Some came from his memories of his past life.
Some came from the information sent by one of Zhao Hong's subordinates just now.
It's easiest to betray each other in the bottom-tier gray circles.
As long as the money is enough, the people around Zhao Hong are more willing than anyone to sell him out.
Jiang Lin placed the phone on the table.
"Illegal confiscation of passports, forced debt labor, introducing illegal escort work, underground casino lending, extortion."
He looked at Zhao Hong.
"If these things are handed over to the police, how many years will you be locked up for?"
"Jiang Lin, are you threatening me? Your own status isn't clean either!"
"I am now the Special Consultant for the Asian Market at Montlais Winery. And you?"
He leaned back in his chair, his tone very calm.
"Will the police investigate a consultant hired by a century-old French winery, or a Chinese middleman who hides a dozen passports?"
Zhao Hong stared at the contract, sweat starting to bead on his forehead.
"Jiang Lin, I'll give you the passport, you pay the twenty thousand euros, and we can still cooperate in the future."
"The key to the iron cabinet."
Zhao Hong's eyes flickered.
"What iron cabinet?"
Luca picked up the iron bar and walked to the wall.
Zhao Hong's expression changed.
"Wait!"
Luca looked at Jiang Lin.
Jiang Lin didn't speak.
Luca swung the iron bar and smashed it onto the lock.
Bang!
The basement shook.
Zhao Hong's face turned pale.
"You're crazy! There are other people's things in there!"
Bang!
The second hit.
The lock deformed.
Bang!
The third hit.
The iron cabinet door was smashed open by force.
A stack of passports, residence permits, IOUs, and cash bags were revealed inside.
When Chen Qian saw one of the passports, tears fell instantly.
"That's mine..."
Jiang Lin walked to the iron cabinet.
He took out his own passport first.
In his past life, for this passport, he had begged, been beaten, incurred debts, and finally completely lost the qualification to turn his life around.
Now, it was back.
No begging.
No paying.
He had taken it back from Zhao Hong's hands.
Jiang Lin opened the passport, confirmed it was correct, and put it in his pocket.
Pale gold text appeared.
【Side Quest: Retrieve Passport, Completion Progress 50%】
【Remaining Objectives: Eliminate identity risks, take over Zhao Hong's gray channels】
Jiang Lin looked at the other documents in the iron cabinet.
"Come and get your own things."
Chen Qian was stunned.
The other people in the room were also stunned.
Hearing the commotion outside, two more people upstairs poked their heads down.
After seeing the scene in the basement, they were too scared to move.
Zhao Hong panicked.
"Jiang Lin! These people owe me money, the IOUs are all here!"
Jiang Lin picked up a stack of IOUs and glanced at them.
Monthly interest rate of 20%.
Default doubles the amount.
He asked Chen Qian:
"How much did you borrow?"
Chen Qian whispered, "Three thousand euros."
Jiang Lin looked at the IOU.
"It says eighteen thousand here."
Chen Qian's tears fell again.
"I've already paid back over four thousand, he said it was all interest..."
Jiang Lin nodded.
He pulled out that IOU and tore it in half in front of Zhao Hong.
Zhao Hong stood up abruptly.
Luca pressed one hand on his shoulder and pushed him back onto the sofa.
Jiang Lin continued flipping through them; the more he read, the colder his eyes became.
Zhao Hong was breathing heavily.
"Jiang Lin, you are cutting off my source of income."
Jiang Lin said calmly.
"You have another path."
Zhao Hong looked at him.
"What do you mean?"
Jiang Lin sat back at the table.
"From today on, this line in Belleville belongs to me."
"Belongs to you? Housing, illegal labor, bars, casinos, documents, people are eating off every link; you say it belongs to you, so it does?"
"Your people are still under your management. From now on, this line will only do three things: find people, investigate information, and introduce legitimate jobs and short-term work."
"Are you running a charity?"
"I'm running an intelligence network."
Jiang Lin leaned forward.
"You know who can run errands, who hangs out in casinos, who frequents auction houses, who launders money for French bosses, and who can get information. You use these things to trade for small money, I'll use them to trade for big money."
"Why should I listen to you?"
Jiang Lin picked up his phone.
"First, I have the evidence."
He pointed at Luca.
"Second, you can't beat him."
He pointed at the iron cabinet again.
"Third, your people already know that passports can be taken back."
Several people in the basement looked at Zhao Hong at the same time.
That look made Zhao Hong's back go cold.
Jiang Lin continued.
"Fourth, I'll give you money."
Zhao Hong's eyes shifted.
"How much?"
"A base salary of ten thousand euros per month."
Zhao Hong was stunned.
Jiang Lin said:
"If you find valuable information, that's extra."
"If you get things done, that's extra. If you dare to betray me, think about the consequences yourself."
Zhao Hong stared at him intensely.
"Where do you get the money to support this line?"
Jiang Lin smiled.
"That's none of your concern."
Zhao Hong's expression changed several times.
Anger, calculation, wariness, greed.
Finally, greed overcame anger.
"I want the money first."
"For that information about Pierre, the twenty thousand euros will be given to you as promised."
"Really?"
"But not now. Do one thing first."
"What?"
"Tomorrow, at the Drouot small art auction in Paris, I want the complete list of items and the list of registered buyers. There is a nineteenth-century style oil painting, suspected to be a fake; the appraisal won't be high."
Zhao Hong frowned.
"Artwork? I'm not familiar with that stuff."
"You don't need to understand it, just find someone who does. It's hard to investigate Drouot."
Jiang Lin looked at him.
"Don't tell me you can't find it."
"I need time."
"I want the list before 12:00 midnight."
"That's too rushed."
"That's why it's valuable."
Jiang Lin took out his phone and transferred ten thousand euros to Zhao Hong's designated account on the spot.
"This is an advance payment. If the list is accurate, I'll give another ten thousand. When the matter is completed tomorrow, I'll give another thirty thousand."
Zhao Hong held his phone, his expression changing.
"Boss Jiang, wouldn't it have been better if we had talked like this earlier?"
"Don't call me Boss, you aren't worthy."
The smile on Zhao Hong's face froze.
No one in the basement dared to speak.
Jiang Lin stood up, walked to the iron cabinet, and collected his passport and a few documents.
He handed Chen Qian her passport.
Chen Qian took it with both hands, tears falling uncontrollably.
"Thank you... thank you..."
"Do you want to return to your country?"
Chen Qian nodded vigorously.
"Yes."
"Can you do accounting?"
"I studied accounting in college, and I came to France to study finance as well."
"Go to Montlais Winery tomorrow and look for a lawyer named Alain. He will arrange for you to work as a temporary Financial Assistant."
"I... can I?"
"As long as you can do accounting, you can."
Chen Qian clutched her passport tightly.
"I can."
"Then wipe away your tears. Montlais Winery is not short of people who cry."
Chen Qian wiped her tears with her sleeve and nodded vigorously.
Jiang Lin looked at Zhao Hong.
"Remember, the old ways are outdated."
"Understood."
When Jiang Lin turned and walked to the door, he paused for a moment.
"Oh, right."
Zhao Hong looked up.
Jiang Lin said: "If anyone asks about tonight?"
"No one has been here."
"That money from Pierre?"
"I investigated it, it has nothing to do with you."
"The auction list?"
"I'll send it to you before twelve."
"Be smarter, there's plenty of money to be made."
After saying this, he left the basement with Luca.
Chen Qian clutched her passport and followed his back.
Zhao Hong sat on the sofa.
The injured henchman next to him asked in a low voice.
"Brother Zhao, are we just going to let it go like this?"
Zhao Hong slapped him.
"Shut up!"
The henchman covered his face, not daring to make a sound.
Zhao Hong stared at the staircase, his eyes full of both hatred and fear.
"Damn it, that kid really turned things around."
Outside the laundromat, the night wind blew away the musty smell of the basement.
Jiang Lin walked to the side of the street and looked up at the dark sky of Paris.
Luca walked to his side.
"You could have handed him over to the police just now."
Jiang Lin shook his head.
"If I handed him over to the police, this line would be cut off."
"This kind of person is unreliable."
"That's why I used both intimidation and inducement."
Luca glanced at Jiang Lin.
"You are very familiar with this kind of place."
"I've stayed here before."
"Madam asked me to protect you."
"You did well."
"But I think the person who really needed protection tonight wasn't you."
Jiang Lin smiled.
"Zhao Hong?"
"Yes."
Jiang Lin looked toward the laundromat.
"Him being alive is more useful than him being dead."
At this moment, his phone vibrated.
Isabella called.
"Is the matter handled?"
"Yes."
The other side of the phone was quiet for a moment.
"Did it go smoothly?"
"Very smoothly."
Luca glanced at him from the side.
Jiang Lin didn't change his expression.
Isabella clearly didn't fully believe him.
"What about Luca?"
"He's alive."
"I'm asking if he's injured."
"No."
"And you?"
"Neither am I."
There was a slight sigh of relief on the other end of the line.
Jiang Lin heard this subtle relaxation.
He stood on the street of Belleville.
Surrounded by cheap neon lights, the cold, damp night wind, drunkards, and trash cans.
On the other end were the lights, fireplace, and vineyards of the Bordeaux estate.
This sense of displacement was quite strange.
Isabella asked: "Are you coming back now?"
"Not yet."
"Why?"
"I've already taken down Zhao Hong's line; before dawn, he will give me the internal list for the Drouot auction."
The other side of the phone was silent for a moment.
"Do you really think that painting can make money?"
"It's not just money, it's also the first chip for me to climb higher."