Mr. Fox is somewhat famous on this street; he belongs to the type of person with "能力" (capability). He is willing to help the poor, lending them money to get through tough times.
Of course, he's not purely a good Samaritan; he also needs the poor to give him a kind return, some reward that may be more than the principal.
But overall, he is a good person, possibly, maybe, probably.
In an underground office, Lynch met Mr. Fox, a gentleman looking around thirty-six, thirty-seven, thirty-eight, thirty-nine, about forty years old.
He was dressed in this year's most popular dark grey suit with red and blue dots, with a red and blue scarf tied at the collar, somewhat informal, yet very elegant.
Before Lynch arrived here, Mr. Fox had already heard from his subordinates about the peculiarities of this kid, such as the words he previously said, which made him somewhat curious.
"You're not afraid of me?" He had his men press Lynch into the chair opposite the desk. "Few people aren't afraid of me on this street."
Lynch showed no sign of fear; such a scene could only be described as a minor spectacle. He shrugged and countered, "Mr. Fox, would you hurt me?"
This question made Mr. Fox stunned for a moment. He seriously thought about it, then shook his head, "I generally don't take the initiative to hurt anyone, but if you first do something unfriendly..."
For anyone, hurting others for no reason is quite a foolish thing. It first makes one's image worse, and secondly, such purposeless actions would attract the investigation bureau's attention.
Most people are looking for money; they don't look for trouble, and Mr. Fox is the same.
"That's right, so why should I be afraid?" Lynch's composure and smile made Mr. Fox momentarily puzzled.
He glanced at the assistant beside him, then his gaze returned to Lynch's face, "But my people say you've been watching me these past few days. Maybe you could tell me why that is. Are you from the investigation bureau?"
Before coming here, they had already searched Lynch and found nothing that could prove his identity. With his attire not matching the style of the investigation bureau folks, Mr. Fox didn't think he was an investigator.
This was also what piqued his curiosity. This kid had been watching his business, the laundry shop, for some time. He also looked into this kid's identity. Out of curiosity and vigilance, this scene unfolded.
He was very eager to know: What exactly is Lynch doing?
He picked up the notebook from Lynch's pocket, flipped through a few pages, all filled with incomprehensible content. He asked his nearby assistant who graduated from college, but even this college graduate couldn't recognize what the writing above represented.
Lynch's warm smile made Mr. Fox feel...a little uneasy, like being cared for... He couldn't quite describe it.
"It's like this, Mr. Fox. I noticed the laundry business and some of your small troubles. I also believe you've investigated me, knowing the issues I'm currently facing..."
Mr. Fox nodded, emphasizing, "Poverty!"
Lynch pointed to the ceiling, using small gestures to draw Mr. Fox's attention and regain control of the conversation, "You're right, so I need to quickly get rid of this financial crisis. I want to propose a small business with you."
All of a sudden, everyone in the office burst into laughter. Mr. Fox, his assistant, and two burly men who looked tough were all laughing heartily.
Lynch did not look embarrassed, waiting for Mr. Fox to stop laughing, which took about thirty-one, two, three, four, five seconds, then asked, "This is not a joke."
Mr. Fox laughed again, asking amid laughter, "But I don't think there's any business we can do..." His laughter naturally stopped, and he frowned, "Do you want to borrow money?"
Lynch shook his head, "No, I want to do business, Mr. Fox!"
Having laughed enough, Mr. Fox's innate curiosity and thirst for knowledge drove the conversation forward; at least until he knew the answer or lost interest, he wouldn't stop this intriguing dialogue.
"So, what kind of business do you want to do with me?"
Lynch's consistently confident and sunny smile easily wins people over, "I can provide more coins, nickels, dimes, quarters, and halves, all coins, both new and old..."
Mr. Fox's face suddenly changed, his slightly narrowed eyes revealing a somewhat chilling element. If one had to interpret this look, it was definitely hostility.
"You know what I'm doing?" He couldn't help but pull out a cigarette and light it. "You have a lot of guts!"
Lynch remained unfazed, "I'm not afraid of poverty. Why would I fear anything else?"
The two stared at each other for a moment; it seems this guy named Lynch was indeed bold, and his words genuinely intrigued Mr. Fox.
Some industries have gray areas, like the finance company Mr. Fox is now running, which isn't entirely legal. He wasn't only being monitored by the investigation bureau, but also by the Federal Tax Bureau.
He needs some channels to reasonably and legally pay taxes on the money he has without attracting too much attention, and the laundry shop provides an excellent channel.
No one cares where each coin comes from, nor can they figure out their origins. Across Bail Federal, every laundry shop is pretty much controlled by these people.
However, they face a common problem: it's too slow!
The middle class and upper society have their washing machines, so they don't need to take clothes to the streets for washing; only the poor do so.
But the poor often accumulate a week's worth of clothes before coming to wash, and they wash them all at once.
To this end, people like Mr. Fox have even devised a new charging standard, charging per pound, but this is still just a drop in the ocean.
One can't force everyone to come wash clothes daily; doing so would only attract the attention of the investigation bureau and the Federal Tax Bureau, which is Mr. Fox's biggest issue.
The feeling of having a safe full of money but being unable to spend it is downright awful!
Now this bastard in front of him says he can solve this problem, which piqued Mr. Fox's interest, "What do you plan to do?"
Lynch openly shared his approach, not hiding anything. Regardless of his current identity and status, he couldn't prevent Mr. Fox from finding out, so he decided to reveal it outright to show his sincerity.
"I will collect a large number of coins and resell them to you in exchange for a portion of the cost. My income is this difference."
Mr. Fox glanced at his assistant again, who whispered in his ear for a while before he frowned and asked, "How much do you want?"
Lynch's enthusiastic smile once again gave Mr. Fox an inexplicable feeling of being cared for, "Ten percent!"
"Are you insane?!" Mr. Fox couldn't help but shout. "I'd rather wait slowly!"
A ten percent price he couldn't accept at all; when the transaction amount is a dollar, it's just a dime.
But when the transaction amount is a hundred thousand dollars, a million dollars, it becomes a heartbreakingly large number.
Lynch didn't immediately haggle over the price with him but instead brought up a new question, "Mr. Fox, do you have a 'Trade Report' here?"
The 'Trade Report' is one of Bail Federal's largest circulated newspapers, covering all seventeen states in Bail Federal and all regions, primarily featuring national and international financial and economic trends and some local financial economic changes.
Through a series of "confrontations," Mr. Fox gradually lost the upper hand. He glanced at his assistant, who nodded to indicate they have some here.
Although their business isn't entirely appropriate, their work is indeed closely related to finance.
"Give me one from as early as possible, and one that's the latest. I'll show you who the real winner in this transaction is."
Lynch's strong and confident voice coupled with his self-assured demeanor began to make Mr. Fox believe him subtly, reminiscent of Lynch holding a microphone and standing before a large crowd while delivering a speech.
People listening to him then believe what he's saying. In the end, they put the money into his pocket and thank him!