Making Money, Practicing the Spear, and Investigating: A Three-Step Plan

Inside Apartment 2B on 108th Street in Jamaica, Queens, New York, the twenty-one-inch CRT television in the living room was playing some crime drama, with the detective on screen roaring at a suspect.

Lin An sat cross-legged on the sofa, watching intently—or rather, he appeared to be watching intently, but in reality, he was reading the live comments and occasionally chatting back in Chinese.

Darnell sat on the armchair on the other side, his body sinking into the foam cushion that had been sagging for a decade, his arms crossed over his chest, staring expressionlessly at Lin An's profile.

He had developed a certain level of tolerance for Lin An's occasional bouts of muttering to himself.

From the kitchen came the sound of a spatula clashing against a wok, mixed with the sizzling of onions popping in hot oil.

Chen Meiling, wearing a faded apron, stood before the stove stir-frying something; her movements were practiced, the way she tossed the wok possessing the crisp efficiency found only in the back kitchens of Chinese restaurants, clearly a skill honed since childhood.

When Darnell's stepfather was still alive, he had likely made these two siblings help out in the kitchen quite often.

The air was filled with the aroma of soy sauce and minced garlic, blended with the charred scent of dried chili peppers—a classic home-style Chinese dish, simple in ingredients, cooked with high heat, and generous with the oil.

The detective on TV finally cornered the suspect.

Darnell continued to stare at Lin An.

The silence lasted for about three minutes until, finally, he couldn't help himself and lowered his voice.

"What were you doing just now?"

Lin An shifted his gaze away from the live comments and blinked.

"What do you mean, what was I doing?"

"At the subway station!"

"You asked me to help you drive that kid away, so I helped you."

Darnell took a deep breath.

"Then why did you have to flirt with my sister?"

The stir-frying sound in the kitchen paused for a second, then resumed.

Lin An tilted his head, the angle just right, making his face appear exceptionally clean in the cold light of the television; his features were gentle, his skin so fair it looked almost unreal, completely out of place in this living room stuffed with old furniture and cheap air freshener, like a fine-brush painting mistakenly hung on the wall of a small diner.

From the direction of the kitchen, a small, unnoticed head poked out, watching this side with a dazed expression.

Lin An raised a hand, palm up, fingers slightly spread, making a polite gesture that said, "Please, let me explain."

"Didn't you ask me to use this face of mine to make Jack Wang leave?"

Darnell's jaw muscles tightened abruptly, two canines popping out from his upper lip before retracting back.

"I didn't ask you to flirt with my sister!"

Lin An shrugged.

"I wasn't flirting; I was just using performance to crush Jack Wang's self-confidence."

"Besides, have you finally admitted that I'm more handsome than you?"

A laugh came from the kitchen, followed by a deliberate cough.

"Damn it, don't bring that up again."

Flustered and exasperated, Darnell threw a punch into the air in front of him.

"What are you doing!?"

At that moment, a scolding came from the kitchen direction as Chen Meiling rushed out, spatula in hand, her long, slightly wavy ponytail "flailing" behind her.

"Brother, don't be so rude to our guest!!!"

Lin An nodded in agreement.

"Exactly."

Darnell's eyelid twitched, and he quickly raised his hands in surrender.

"No, no, no, Meiling, I didn't hit anyone!"

"Then why were you throwing punches to scare Brother Lin?"

"I... what did you say, Brother Lin!?"

Darnell looked completely stunned.

"Since when did you get another brother?"

Meiling put her hands on her hips, the spatula in her right hand pointing diagonally at the ceiling.

"Brother Lin An is older than me, and he's your good bro, so what's wrong with me calling him brother?"

With that, Chen Meiling turned and ran back to the kitchen, leaving a bewildered Darnell behind.

The silence lasted for about ten seconds.

Then Darnell suddenly stood up, gestured for Lin An to follow, and walked toward his bedroom.

Lin An followed, and after Darnell closed the door, he said in a low voice.

"Okay, let's talk about something else. Since we know the name, should we start an investigation?"

Investigate what?

Lin An immediately realized what Darnell wanted to talk about.

Sergei Kuzmin, the name pried out of the mercenary captain's mouth, along with Brighton Beach and Black Sea Seafood.

[Brighton Beach Community is Little Russia]

[It is a Russian-American neighborhood, nicknamed the "Little Red Light District"]

[Is Black Sea Seafood a restaurant or a codename?]

[The name Sergei is to Russians what "Zhang Wei" is to the Chinese]

[Stay safe]

[Stay safe +1]

"No rush, now is not the time for an investigation."

"Why?"

"Because we don't have the strength."

Lin An spread his hands, being very frank.

"You're a rookie; aside from having a lot of strength, you don't know how to fight at all. And I'm a rookie too, having barely fired a gun a few times.

Brighton Community is the turf of Russian immigrants. Since that guy named Sergei dares to act as a broker for muscle, he clearly has some power. Given our current situation, how are we supposed to investigate?"

"I know a few friends here, I can call them to help, and we can go together..."

"That won't work."

Lin An shook his head, rejecting Darnell's naive idea.

"If you're planning to go looting, I have no objection to you calling your Ni Ge friends along, but... this matter is too deadly, they aren't reliable enough."

"Genius, then what is your plan?"

Darnell also knew he wasn't smart enough, so he gave up the idea of continuing to argue.

"First, get some money."

Lin An held up one finger.

"Without money, we can't do anything."

"Genius, aren't you a wizard? Can't you conjure up money?"

"Idiot, that money belonged to the gunmen; I just put it in a place you don't know about."

"Oh..."

"The second step is to take this money to buy a few black-market guns, stock up on some ammunition, find a place to fire a few rounds, and practice our aim. Then, and only then, is it time to start the investigation."

"Bro, didn't you pick up a few guns at the factory? Why do we need to buy guns..."

"Are you stupid? Can we still use those guns?"

Lin An rolled his eyes.

"You don't know how many shots I fired or how many people I killed? If I use those guns a second time and the police check the ballistics, won't they know that I'm the one who did it?"

"Uh, alright."

Darnell scratched his head and gave an honest smile.

"Then how do you plan to deal with those guns?"

"Exchange them for the audience."

Lin An answered truthfully. In fact, his favorite Ruger .22 Pistol and all the .22 ammunition had already been exchanged by someone.

"Bro, stop saying things I don't understand."

[Exchange them for us? Who would dare to trade for those?]

[Open the shop and look, the Ruger .22 Pistol and all the ammo have already been taken]

[Which brother is so bold? You dare to play with firearms even back home?]

[I exchanged for it]

[Who said I was back home? I'm in Africa, I can play with whatever I want]

[By the way, the streamer is also an outlaw; he's actually selling us arms. Isn't he afraid of being censored by the crab?]

"Knock, knock, knock... come out quickly, it's time to eat!"