On Monday morning, Skinny Monkey finished clearing out a small office in the commercial building controlled by the Wah Ching.
“Dr.
Zhou, what do you think of this place?” Skinny Monkey opened the door at the end of the third floor.
“About forty square meters, with its own private restroom.
South-facing window, plenty of natural light.” “It used to be a small trading company.
They just moved out last month.” Zhou Mo walked in to inspect the room.
The space was clean and tidy, the walls freshly painted, and the floor laid with gray carpet.
The window looked directly out onto Chinatown’s main street.
“Not bad.” Zhou Mo nodded.
“What about the desks, chairs, computers, network connection…” “All ready.” Skinny Monkey pointed to the cardboard boxes in the corner.
“Six desks, eight chairs, three computers.
The internet will be hooked up tomorrow.” “A new lock was installed on the door, with three keys total.” Zhou Mo nodded.
“Deduct the costs from my share of the profits.” “No, no need.” Skinny Monkey waved his hands hurriedly.
“It’s pocket change.
You’ve helped me so much, Dr.
Zhou, this is the least I can do.” “Thanks, then.” Zhou Mo didn’t insist.
“We’ll assign this to the ‘Starbridge’ project for now.
Software development needs a quiet environment; the basement is too cramped.” “Software?” Skinny Monkey looked curious.
“You do that too, Dr.
Zhou?” “A friend’s project.
I just invested a bit of money.” Zhou Mo brushed it off casually before changing the subject.
“By the way, any movements from the Russian Gang and the Irish Gang lately?” Skinny Monkey’s expression immediately turned solemn.
“I was just about to tell you.” “Following your instructions, we’ve been gradually penetrating their turf using the catering and remittance businesses.
The Russian Gang’s shipments at their two dockland warehouses have noticeably dropped recently.” “And at the construction sites controlled by the Irish Gang, our meal deliveries have snatched thirty percent of their cafeteria’s business.” “Their reaction?” “No major moves yet, but minor friction at the bottom has picked up.” Skinny Monkey lowered his voice.
“Last week, one of our delivery vans had its tires slashed at the docks.
The driver said it was done by white guys, but there’s no proof.” “The delivery guy from Old Wallace’s Tea Restaurant was beaten up once too.
Luckily, our guys got there in time, so nothing major happened.” “Be careful,” Zhou Mo instructed.
“At this stage of economic warfare, they’re very likely to corner themselves and lash out wildly.” “Understood.” On Tuesday afternoon, Scott and Remy drove to Los Angeles.
The rented gray Honda drove smoothly on Highway 5.
Scott sat in the passenger seat, constantly checking his watch, his face filled with anxiety.
“Relax.” Remy held the steering wheel with one hand while playing with a deck of cards in the other.
“Still two hours to go.
What’s your daughter’s name again?” “Cassie.
Cassie Lang,” Scott said softly.
“She’s almost eighteen, but she’s in poor health, so she looks younger than she is.” “Heart disease, right?
The boss has arranged everything.” Remy slipped the cards into his pocket.
“A specialist at Stanford Medical Center.
Just the reservation fee alone was twenty thousand dollars.
The boss is very generous.” Scott was silent for a moment, his tone firm.
“I know.
That’s why I have to make this software right.” When the car entered the suburbs of Los Angeles, night had fallen.
Following the address, they found an old apartment building, parked, and went upstairs.
The woman who opened the door was in her forties, with short blonde hair and a weary face—Martha, Scott’s ex-wife.
“Scott.” Martha looked at him, then at Remy.
“Who is this?” “My colleague, Remy.” Scott asked anxiously, “Where’s Cassie?” “In her room.” Martha stepped aside to let them in.
The living room was small, with simple but clean furniture.
When Cassie came out of the bedroom, Scott felt a pang in his nose.
His daughter wore loose pajamas, her face pale, but her eyes bright.
“Dad.” Scott stepped forward and hugged her gently, keeping his touch light for fear of hurting her.
“Cassie, we’re here to pick you up.
Are your bags packed?” “All packed.” Cassie looked at Remy and greeted him softly, “Hello, sir.” “Just call me Remy,” Remy gave a gentle smile.
“The car is downstairs.
No need to rush.” Martha helped drag the luggage out.
Before saying goodbye, she pulled Scott aside and asked in a low voice, “Do you really have a way?
The surgery fees…” “The boss is covering everything.
Don’t worry,” Scott said softly.
“I’ll call you regularly to give you updates.” Martha nodded, her eyes rimmed with red.
“Take good care of her.” “I will.” On the return trip, Cassie sat in the back seat, sleeping under a blanket.
Scott looked back at her from time to time, his expression complex.
“She’ll get better,” Remy spoke up.
“Whatever the boss promises, he delivers.” “I know.” Scott turned back, his voice dazed.
“I just feel like I’m dreaming.
A month ago I was still in prison, and now my daughter can be saved, I have a job, and I have hope.” “That’s life,” Remy said indifferently.
“The harder you fall, the higher you bounce back.” When the car reached the San Francisco Bay Area, it was already 1:00 AM.
Driving along a remote stretch of highway near Oakland, a black pickup truck suddenly lunged out from a side road, blocking the middle of the road.
“Dammit.” Remy slammed on the brakes.
Three masked men stepped down from the pickup holding steel pipes and crowbars.
The leader knocked on the driver’s window: “Get out!
Hand over your wallets and car keys!” Remy rolled down the window, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
“Gentlemen, robbing people in the middle of the night instead of sleeping?” “Cut the crap, get out of the car!” “Alright, alright.” Remy pushed the door open and slowly stepped down.
Scott tried to follow him out, but Remy stopped him with a glance.
The three robbers surrounded him, the leader reaching out to grab Remy’s collar.
The next second, three playing cards flew out simultaneously.
Not explosive cards, but cutting cards with razor-sharp edges—one sliced open the leader’s wrist, dropping the steel pipe; another stabbed into the second man’s thigh, sending him screaming to the ground; the third grazed the third man’s cheek, leaving a line of blood.
The whole process took less than two seconds.
Remy bent down, picked up the steel pipe, and weighed it in his hand.
“Still want to rob us?” The three robbers scrambled back into their pickup and fled in panic.
Remy returned to the car and restarted the engine.
“The old cliché on the road from LA to San Francisco—highway robbery.
Except these guys were way too amateur.” Cassie woke up in the back seat, asking sleepily, “What happened?” “Nothing,” Scott immediately turned to soothe her.
“Just some people asking for directions.
They’re gone now.” The car continued forward.
Scott looked at Remy and asked in a low voice, “What was that just now…” “A small trick,” Remy brushed it off lightly.
“Don’t tell your daughter.
She doesn’t need to know about this stuff.” “Understood.” On Wednesday, Ellie Stone walked into Renxin Hall carrying a stack of files.
She had a narrow oval face with a sharp jawline, light brown collarbone-length hair neatly parted on the side, and thin silver-framed glasses that gave her a cool, intellectual aura.
Her tall, slender figure was upright and well-proportioned, dressed in crisp professional attire that exuded a restrained yet refined elegance.
“Dr.
Zhou, all the paperwork is completed.” She laid the files gently on the desk, her tone quiet, composed, and professional.
“Starbridge Technology Co., Ltd.
has been officially registered with a registered capital of fifty thousand dollars.
The software patent application is in progress, expected to be approved in four to six months, and three related domain names have also been registered.” Zhou Mo flipped through the files and offered mild praise: “Very efficient.” “I have acquaintances at the patent office.” Ellie smiled slightly, her cool demeanor softening slightly.
“In addition, I drafted the equity agreement.
Scott Lang holds five percent in technical shares as core developer and legal representative, while you, as the investor, hold ninety-five percent.
He needs to sign to confirm.” “He’ll come sign it tomorrow.” Zhou Mo closed the file.
“Use the office I prepared as the company address.
Currently, Scott is the only employee.
We’ll recruit more later.” “Do you need me to draft employment contracts?” “Please.” Zhou Mo continued, “One more thing.
I would like you to serve as the company’s standing legal counsel.
A fixed monthly fee, with specific cases billed separately.
Are you interested?” A smile flickered in Ellie’s eyes, adding warmth to her clear, cool face.
“Of course.
Though I’ll have to resign first.
I’ve already talked to my law firm—there’s a two-week handover period.” “That’s fine.” Zhou Mo pulled out a checkbook, filled it out, and handed it over.
“This is the first month’s retainer.
Let me know if it’s not enough.” Ellie took the check.
Seeing the amount, her eyebrows arched slightly, her tone carrying mild surprise: “Dr.
Zhou, this is higher than my monthly salary at the law firm.” “You’re worth it.” Zhou Mo’s tone was calm.
“I don’t just need an ordinary lawyer; I need someone who can handle special situations.
Your talent will come in handy in the future.” Ellie tucked the check away, her eyes firm.
“I won’t disappoint you.” That evening, Skinny Monkey came to Renxin Hall again, looking much more grave than before.
“Dr.
Zhou, something happened,” he blurted out as soon as he entered.
“The Russian Gang and the Irish Gang have joined forces.” Zhou Mo laid down the medicinal herbs in his hands.
“Elaborate.” “Our Shunda Freight at the docks was inspected this afternoon.” Skinny Monkey spoke quickly.
“Two groups came—one from the Russian Gang, one from the Irish Gang.
On the pretext that our trucks were overloaded, they demanded a five-thousand-dollar fine.
They’re clearly looking for trouble.” “How did you handle it?” “Frank was on site and paid the money first.” Skinny Monkey frowned deeply.
“But the key point is that these two gangs used to be sworn enemies.
Now they’re actually acting together.” “I made inquiries.
They reached a private agreement: join forces to drive us out of the docks and the construction industry first, then split the turf.” Zhou Mo walked to the window, gazing out into the night.
“Economic means are useless now.
They’re preparing to use force.” “I’m afraid so.” Skinny Monkey’s voice tightened.
“I heard word that they’ve been buying weapons in large quantities these past few days—handguns, shotguns, maybe even automatic rifles.
Combined, they have thirty to forty men.” “How many men can the Wah Ching gang rally?” “Only about twenty who can actually fight.” Skinny Monkey smiled bitterly.
“And our firepower can’t match theirs.
We only have machetes, steel pipes, and a few old handguns.” Zhou Mo turned around, his expression steady.
“Temporarily halt all economic expansion.
Heighten security at all our establishments and close early at night.
Scale back freight and food delivery to a minimum.” “What about our turf?
What if they come to take it?” “Let them take it.” Zhou Mo’s tone was decisive.
“It’s not a real retreat.
I just need time to prepare.
Go make the arrangements first.
I’ll give you a specific plan tomorrow.” Skinny Monkey nodded heavily and turned to leave.
Zhou Mo walked into the secret room, looked at the intelligence board, and wrote “Alliance” in red ink next to the markers for the Russian Gang and the Irish Gang.
The phone rang—it was Remy.
“Boss, Cassie is settled in.
The Stanford consultation is scheduled in three days.” “Good.” Zhou Mo said in a deep voice, “Also, get ready.
The coming week is going to be busy.” “A new task?” “Possibly a small-scale war.” Zhou Mo’s tone was calm.
“Prepare first.
Wait for my command.” Hanging up the phone, Zhou Mo silently looked at the intersecting lines and markers on the intelligence board, undercurrents surging in the depths of his eyes.