Everything Will Be Fine

A man wearing a ripped vest sat up from a creaking bed, his face full of dejection.

The duvet cover, which should have been a light-colored, silk-like fabric, has now turned dark, especially the ends of the cups, which are shiny black and covered with a layer of black grease.

Whenever he couldn't stand it anymore, he would change the blankets, but now, in this situation, it doesn't make much difference to him whether he changes them or not.

He stretched and scratched his itchy armpit hair, then shivered. He hadn't felt it when he got out of bed, but now he felt cold.

The room is actually heated, and he shares the same heating pipes with his neighbors to ensure the indoor temperature, which is a new measure this winter.

To prevent some people who suddenly became poor from freezing to death one morning due to a lack of experience in dealing with the cold, the mayor provided public heating services for some people who needed heating. However, the service was not very effective and sometimes it would stop for a while in the middle of the night.

But that's not bad; at least it keeps you from shivering while you sleep.

He changed into clothes that hadn't been washed in a long time and smelled strongly of odor, squeezed through the narrow door into the bathroom, and began to clean himself.

Looking at himself in the mirror, he said to himself, "Everything will be alright."

Yes, everything will be alright.

When the disaster was already foreshadowed, that's what he told himself. At that time, he was still living in a luxurious detached villa, surrounded by uneasy servants, and his young wife, who was almost thirty years younger than him, looked at him with adoration, as if everything he said was the truth.

When the disaster actually happened, that's what he said too: everything will be alright.

At that time, he dismissed all the servants in his household, as he could no longer afford to squander the little cash he had to pay their expensive salaries.

His wife, who was almost thirty years younger than him, looked at him with some suspicion, seemingly unsure whether he was telling the truth or deceiving her.

Even some time after the disaster, he still said that everything would be alright.

His villa was repossessed by the bank, and he was evicted from his home by the bank staff. His wife, who was almost thirty years younger than him, took him to court for divorce almost without warning, on the grounds that he could not provide her with sufficient sexual satisfaction.

In the end, he did not take his wife, who was more than 30 years younger than him and who praised him as "amazing" countless nights, to court because he could not afford a lawyer, and that would only make his situation worse.

He was taken away from almost everything, but fortunately he still had this small house, which the government used to house him. He only qualified to move in because he had pulled some strings.

Apart from a factory and a huge pile of unsold orders that had been produced but no one was willing to pay for, he had nothing! Every morning, as always, he would look in the mirror and say the same thing, "Everything will be alright!"

He firmly believed this. Didn't the newspapers say that the Federal had found a way to revitalize the economy? The joint development work between the Federal and Nagaril had made unprecedented progress. The benefits of helping other countries develop were enough to allow the Federal to quickly recover to its pre-recession state, and society would become a better place again.

When that time comes, he can move into a big house again, hire countless servants, and find a girl forty years younger than him to be his wife, and he will be exhausted every day before he can rest.

Coming to his senses, he looked at his unshaven self in the mirror and nodded vigorously. "Yes, everything will be alright!"

Squeezing out of the narrow doorway again with great effort... These apartments, which are almost rent-free, are not meant for people to enjoy life; they are just places to survive, so squeezing out space is only natural.

He walked to the Living Room window, opened it, and the cold air outside rushed in instantly, forcing him to wrap his clothes tighter around himself.

The bright sunlight streams in through the window, bringing a moment of warmth even in the cold winter.

He walked to the door, picked up a newspaper from the ground, and then brewed himself a pot of the cheapest coffee—a few of the cheapest coffee beans crushed with a stone and boiled directly in a pot without even needing to be filtered. This kind of coffee couldn't really be called coffee; it should be called the water used to boil the beans, but it was his only drink.

I casually put a small bag of relief food I received from the shelter into the coffee pot to heat it up. The aluminum packaging allowed me to heat it over water without worrying about any problems.

A few minutes later, he sat down at the table with a coffee pot, basking in the sun, sipping his coffee, reading the latest newspaper, and squeezing the mushy relief food into his mouth.

"Hello, Mr. Jonathan..."

Someone passed by his window in the hallway and greeted him, to which he responded with a warm smile, "Good morning, Mr. Anderson..."

Watching Mr. Anderson's retreating figure, Jonathan shook his head. Mr. Anderson was also a factory owner, and Jonathan had heard of him before; he was even richer than Mr. Anderson.

Later, in order to get rid of his debts as soon as possible, Mr. Jonathan sold everything, including the factory, because he believed that the loans would become a mountain over his head if he did not do so.

Even if the bank wasn't in a hurry for him to repay the loan, the annual interest alone would be enough to make him breathless. He lost, and he admitted defeat, so he sold everything and started over. Now, Mr. Anderson is an insurance agent, striving to find a chance to get back on his feet.

Unlike Mr. Anderson, Mr. Jonathan did not sell his factory; he took a gamble, driven by a feeling and thought he couldn't quite explain.

With so many businesses failing, the Federal will likely require banks to suspend loan collection efforts, and may even offer low or interest-free rates; otherwise, many people may not be able to survive.

He made the right bet. He's now penniless and heavily in debt, but he still has a chance.

In fact, he was always looking for opportunities. He read the newspaper every day to find opportunities. He learned a lot from the newspaper, such as the development of Nagaril.

He had a mysterious intuition that he was about to become rich again.

The development of Nagaril will certainly lead to a surge in material demand as the society there becomes increasingly wealthy. At that time, the surplus stock in his factory can be easily sold to active international traders by simply lowering the price.

Once he receives a payment that demonstrates to the bank his ability and potential to generate revenue for them again, he can try to secure another loan and start working again! He firmly believes that day is not far off.

After finishing the poop, he rinsed his mouth with the last bit of coffee and swallowed it all. The poop meal wasn't tasty, but it was his last lifeline, and he wouldn't waste a single grain of food! Just as he was about to go out for a walk, a well-dressed young man carrying a briefcase suddenly stood outside the door.

The young man had applied a thick layer of hair wax to his head, so much so that not a single hair went where it shouldn't have, even in the biting cold wind.

Judging from the young man's attire, Jonathan's first thought was that this guy worked at a bank. Only bank employees like to carry those briefcases that look like handbags but are disguised as briefcases.

They have a lot of documents to carry with them, and some of these documents are quite important, so they can't fit them in their briefcases.

"Look this way!" Jonathan called out to the young man without much hesitation.

The young man paused for a moment, then took a step back, looked at the door, and then at the layout of the apartment on the left and right. Only when he seemed to think that Jonathan was the owner of the room did he move closer.

"Mr. Jonathan?" he asked doubtfully, seemingly still somewhat incredulous.

Jonathan smoothed his messy hair. "Doesn't it look like it?"

Perhaps it was his attitude, or perhaps it was the air of wealth he carried from his past, but the young man believed him, and a smile appeared on his face. "That's wonderful, it's you in person. I'm a special envoy from Jinhui Bank..."

He said he opened the briefcase, which was not full of documents; it was divided into two parts, left and right.

On the left is a tape recorder, the latest model. Its drawback is that it has no speaker, which means that the user is unaware of the result of their recording and can only play it back when using another tape recorder with a speaker.

On the right is a large pile of documents, sealed in different file folders, each with a different label stamp.

The young man casually pressed the record button, and as he spoke, he opened the first document, "Mr. Jonathan, from this moment on, our conversation will be recorded as valid evidence to be submitted to the court if necessary."

"To ensure the legality and validity of this recording, I must inform you that it is in operation and will record our entire conversation on a tape in detail. Now you understand its purpose?"

"You can answer yes, no, or I can explain it to you again?"

Jonathan suddenly felt nervous. He didn't know what this process meant, but his heart was pounding uncontrollably. He swallowed hard. "I know it's being recorded. Our conversation will be recorded, right?"

The young man nodded with satisfaction. "Yes, that's right. Before we begin our formal conversation..." He glanced inside and decided to complete the conversation in the corridor. "I must follow the procedures for questioning. You can refuse to answer, including stopping our negotiations, but the existing recordings will serve as evidence of your refusal to communicate and may be provided to the court and judge if necessary. Do you understand?"

A series of court hearings and judges made Mr. Jonathan even more nervous.