Chapter 1085: The Talk

A late-night food stall.

The city center of the New Golden City had a late-night culture. Before 11:00 PM, numerous small vendors would gather and operate in a designated area.

Initially, there were only one or two stalls, mainly selling simple food, such as the original pie made with minced beef and unleavened bread, wrapped with meat and sauce.

For workers or office employees who didn't finish work until after 8:00 PM, this provided a satisfying meal that didn't cost much. Business gradually boomed.

Others noticed the thriving business of this unnamed food stall and began to set up their own. From the initial two or three stalls, the number grew to over a hundred, and the types of goods sold were no longer limited to food, but also included small commodities.

And secondhand goods.

Secondhand goods and food were the most common businesses here. Many of the secondhand goods were stolen property from thieves in the city.

The thieves sold these less valuable items, which were inconvenient to sell at dedicated fencing spots, to other people.

These people would then set up stalls here at night to peddle the stolen goods.

For example, a set of clothes that cost about one dollar in a store could be bought here for sixty cents.

After some bargaining, they could probably be had for forty or even thirty-five cents. Since they were stolen goods bought by weight, selling them individually always yielded a profit.

The New Golden City government was aware of the situation here. Initially, they considered intervening, but the area gradually became a late-night fixture of the neighborhood, attracting more people to the city.

The City Hall gradually acquiesced to the existence of the night market, and its size continued to expand.

It was rumored that the market was managed by a gang, who set rules regarding stall locations, who operated where, and how much they had to pay to set up their stalls.

Ordinary people might not understand the details, but those operating businesses here did.

People disliked the gangs for a reason: the gangs did nothing, yet the operators had to pay them simply to operate.

However, the gangs did provide services after collecting the money. They handled some of the sanitation work and maintained order.

The senior Agent Supervisor parked his car and entered the night market from the east side. He quickly found a food stall.

The stall was small, and its main fare was similar to the others: grilled minced beef, mixed with various sauces, and served with three bread rolls.

You could eat the minced beef while eating the bread rolls, or cut open the rolls and sandwich the beef inside.

If you paid fifteen cents extra, they would also provide a side of vegetable salad.

He only needed a glance to find the person he was looking for. He ordered the most basic meal and sat down across from Lance.

"I didn't expect... to meet here," the senior Agent Supervisor's emotions were somewhat complex. He expected a more private venue, like a club.

He was surprised that Lance had asked him to meet in such a public place. He felt slightly uncomfortable.

Lance was savoring the food. After swallowing a mouthful, he looked up. "Those high-end, private places are too conspicuous. If someone is watching me, they could easily spot your car and you."

"This place is different. I entered from the west side and already had people sweep the area for potential surveillance. Even if there are watchers now, they can only watch from a distance."

"They don't know the purpose of our meeting or what we're discussing. To them, you are just an ordinary passerby."

"The lighting here isn't very bright. They won't be able to see your face clearly."

Although the night market had lighting, it was centered around the vendors' carts and stalls. It illuminated the food carts and the stolen goods but not the small tables where people ate on the side.

Some tables had a candle, but others had extinguished the candle, like Lance's table.

While battery storage and commercial use were possible now, this was a poor people's night market; they couldn't afford the equipment.

If they could afford the equipment, they wouldn't need to be setting up stalls here.

The standard meal was quickly served. Lance gestured for him to try it.

Perhaps the aroma of the food tempted the senior Agent Supervisor, or perhaps he didn't want Lance to feel his resistance. In any case, after a few seconds, he took a bite.

"You should cut open the bread roll and sandwich the meat inside. I have some vegetable salad here too. Add some of that, take a bite, and the taste is marvelous!"

"Minced beef burger. You deserve it!"

The senior Agent Supervisor ignored Lance's suggestion and followed his own instinct, folding a roll and taking a big bite.

It had to be said that these roadside food stalls catering to the poor offered genuinely good food. The beef was cooked thoughtfully and for a long time, making it very tender and flavorful.

It wasn't tough or sinewy.

The sauce and meat juices exploded in his mouth. The bread, saturated with the juices and retaining its own wheat flavor, tasted wonderful!

Lance watched him take two bites and smiled. "How is it? Tastes pretty good, right?"

The senior Agent Supervisor ate most of the roll, then set it down, keeping his head bowed. "My time is limited. Say what you need to say."

Lance took out a handkerchief, wiped his mouth and hands, and lit a cigarette. "I know what you are planning to do to me. It's no secret."

The senior Agent Supervisor couldn't help but ask, "Where did you hear that?"

Not many people knew about this plan—only the senior Agent Supervisors, Director Roland, and a few agents under them who only executed orders without knowing the overall goal or purpose.

If the information was leaked, it had to be by one of the supervisors.

As for Director Roland?

He planned everything; he would never leak his own plan.

The senior Agent Supervisor was already in a bad mood. Their "righteous cause" had only just begun, and the plan was already exposed. He was now considering whether he should discuss this with Director Roland.

Facing the man's question, which most people wouldn't have asked, Lance gave a somewhat vague answer. "I certainly didn't guess it myself. Someone provided me with some help, leaking some information."

"Actually, I know you are pushing the fight between the Perez family and me. You want to see both sides suffer heavy casualties so you can arrest us afterward."

As Lance spoke, the senior Agent Supervisor visibly grew uncomfortable. He began to shift his posture frequently.

Under normal circumstances, this might be seen as discomfort with the small stool, but now, his constant shifting indicated profound unease.

The unease of having a secret discovered.

"What exactly do you want to tell me?" He wanted to end this uncomfortable and unnerving topic, as Lance held all the control.

Lance smiled. The tip of his cigarette brightened suddenly, reflecting slightly on his face. "I want to be your friend."

"I always believe that the more friends you have, the better. One is not enough; I want a second, a third. And... we have the potential to be friends."

"Look, someone gave me your number, which means we have friends in common. You must have heard the saying: a friend of a friend is a friend."

"Since we are friends, friends should understand each other and help each other. Wouldn't you agree?"

The senior Agent Supervisor didn't speak. He wasn't sure whether speaking or remaining silent was the better choice. He was in a bind.

Lance was acting completely normal, but this very normalcy made him feel immense pressure. He worried he might be persuaded.

"Everyone has their ideals. Some want to become a major figure, some want more money, and some want to live a simple, ordinary life."

"No matter what their ideals are, they need a foundation to support them: wealth."

The senior Agent Supervisor suddenly interrupted Lance. "You want to buy me with money?"

Lance smiled slightly. "Not just money. Promises too, and your safety."

"And don't worry, I won't force you to do anything you don't want to do. You are not my only contact. You don't even have to tell me your plan or strategy against me."

"I have my own ways of getting that information."

"I told you from the start: I only want to be your friend."

Lance mentioned their mutual friend yet avoided giving him too much pressure. This caused the senior Agent Supervisor to waver.

Lance didn't rush him. He picked up the remaining food and took a large bite. "Some people achieve their own ideals, but some people achieve the ideals that others have instilled in them."

"What your ideal truly is, what kind of life you truly want, you might not even know yourself."

He took out a small card, placed it on the table, and slid it toward the supervisor. "You can take your time to consider this. Call me when you've made up your mind."

The senior Agent Supervisor realized Lance was preparing to leave. He thought Lance would insist on persuading him tonight. He hadn't expected this was only an initial meeting.

He didn't immediately pocket the card, instead asking, "If I... refuse..."

Lance stood up, looking down at him in the darkness. "Then we are enemies. You've studied my files. You should know my attitude toward handling enemies from what happened in the past."

"As for enemies..." He chuckled twice, then shook his head and walked away. "Go home and think carefully. Don't miss this opportunity."

Watching Lance and his entourage leave, the senior Agent Supervisor looked at the small card on the table and sank into contemplation.

After an unknown period, he sighed, picked up the card, put it in his pocket, and left the night market.

He was in a terrible mood. Lance knew the FBI was moving against him, and even knew they orchestrated the conflict between the Lance family and the Perez family.

He was also thinking about another thing: since Lance knew the FBI was behind this, why was he still willingly stepping into the trap?

He knew it was a trap, yet he was jumping into it. Why?

Also, who was the leaker?

What would happen if he refused Lance?

What would happen if he accepted Lance's offer?

After returning home, he didn't go back to work; he spent his time thinking about these issues.

His wife didn't notice her husband's distress; she was completely absorbed in the television program.

The Golden Port Television Station, a joint venture between the Golden Port News Group and Lance, had become quite famous in the Federation. The various programs they aired were overwhelmingly successful, compared to the still-developing new media landscape.

Whether it was "long-form television dramas (TV series)," various entertainment shows, news programs, interviews, or talk shows, they attracted a massive Federal audience.

Television stations across the country were now negotiating partnerships with Golden Port TV, hoping to import more programs and achieve strategic cooperation in certain areas.

Lance's condition for cooperation was simple: to work with them, they had to accept Golden Port TV as a shareholder.

This was an excellent form of cooperation for the Golden Port News Group. As for the potential for monopoly, that would only be addressed if someone decided to sue them for monopolistic practices.

Even the content played on the New Golden City television station largely originated from Golden Port TV.

These programs captivated many people. They remained glued to their televisions virtually twenty-four hours a day, only leaving when absolutely necessary.

The night passed without incident.

The next morning, the senior Agent Supervisor immediately went to the FBI office. He was a little nervous, but neither the security guard nor the Director contacted him, suggesting his meeting with Lance the previous night was safe.

He returned to his office and had someone bring him materials related to Lance. He studied the fate of Lance's past enemies.

Previously, reading these materials didn't evoke such strong feelings, but now, reviewing them gave him a decidedly different... feeling.

Just as he was immersed in studying Lance's ruthless methods against his enemies, the phone on his desk suddenly rang. He immediately picked it up. It was a call from an old friend.

"Are you free today?"

"If so, come over tonight. I've prepared a lavish dinner, and I have something I want to discuss with you..."