Twists and Turns

Old Joe led the two away from the block near the church, turning into a narrow back alley.

The asphalt on the road here was cracked, with withered yellow weeds growing through the fissures, and most of the townhouses on either side were boarded up with wood, the boards spray-painted with colorful graffiti... these were gang markings.

Every new tag represented a gang, and every crossed-out mark indicated that the gang it represented had been driven out of this area.

[I recognize this mark, we have this gang in my part of the United States.]

[Is it called the Crips?]

[That's one of the largest street gangs in the United States. They got run out of here in Jamaica?]

[Largest gang doesn't mean invincible, and the structure of the Crips is very loose. There's no single leader; every head is equal. Sometimes they even start fighting each other for profit and territory.]

Lin An looked at the scrolling comments, then turned his head to glance at those markings.

Darnell noticed Lin An's movement and also took a look at the marks.

"It's fine, bro. No gang members actually come here. These tags are just border lines to show territory. Unless there's something special going on, the gang members won't come to a place like this."

"They're too busy fighting over convenience stores and drug routes over there; who would come to this godforsaken street? Only the bravest man in Jamaica, like me, would dare to accompany you to a place like this."

As he said this, he quickened his pace, walking in front.

"This way."

Because Darnell picked up the pace, Old Joe, who was walking in front, also sped up.

As they walked further, Darnell felt that the place they were heading toward was becoming more familiar.

"Old Joe, is the place you mentioned the bankrupt furniture factory?"

"Yes, that's the one."

Old Joe nodded.

The three of them walked for about another ten minutes. The surrounding buildings became increasingly dilapidated; the lampposts on both sides of the street were crooked, the bulbs had long since stopped shining, and the glass covers hung on them, shattered into shards.

An abandoned gas station stood lonely at the intersection, the pumps covered in rust, the plastic handles snapped off, and the oil hoses hanging on the ground like dead snakes.

"We're almost there."

Old Joe pointed ahead.

A building appeared at the end of the street.

It was a two-story factory building made of brick. The side facing the street was a solid wall of red brick, the white paint on it mostly peeled away, revealing the mottled bricks beneath.

The windows on the second floor were all sealed with plywood, though some boards had been pried open, revealing dark, gaping holes.

The main entrance of the factory consisted of two rolling metal doors, both closed and covered in layers of graffiti, the ones at the bottom so thick they were no longer legible.

On the exterior wall of the second floor, a few rusted metal letters hung crookedly, swaying and creaking with every gust of wind.

"This is it."

Old Joe stood at the entrance, looking up at the letters, his eyes somewhat vacant.

Darnell also looked up, muttering to himself.

"My stepfather said the owner of this place was a good man who never delayed wages..."

"Yeah, he was a good man, which is why he killed himself."

Old Joe's voice was filled with pain.

"Last summer, the factory didn't have a single order. The bank was demanding loan repayments, suppliers were demanding payments for goods, so he gave the remaining money to the workers and then locked himself in his office..."

He didn't continue, lowering his head to move past the topic.

"Go around the back, the door is over here."

He led the two around to a narrow alley on the side of the factory.

The alley was very tight, the distance between the walls only wide enough for an adult to pass through sideways.

It was filthy here, with broken glass and rusted tin cans scattered on the ground, and the air held a pungent stench of urine mixed with the smell of moldy cardboard and rotting food scraps.

Darnell and Old Joe acted as if they didn't notice, but it disgusted Lin An, who was walking in the back; he almost threw up.

He finally followed the two to the end of the alley, where Old Joe crouched down behind a pile of discarded wooden boards and cardboard boxes.

"Right here."

He pushed aside the debris, revealing an iron door.

The door was small, only about half the width of a standard door, painted a gray that matched the wall so closely it was impossible to spot without looking carefully. A piece of rusted wire was wrapped around the handle, serving as a "lock."

Old Joe skillfully untwisted the wire and pushed the iron door open. The hinges let out a sharp, screeching sound, like someone screaming.

Behind the door was a set of concrete stairs extending downward, with a faint, dim light at the end.

"Watch the steps, the third one is missing a corner."

Old Joe gave a warning and headed down first.

Lin An followed behind, his hand resting against the damp, cold wall.

The stairs were narrow; his shoulders nearly brushed the walls on both sides. The walls were coated in a layer of slick moss that felt cold and damp to the touch.

Darnell walked at the back, muttering to himself as he descended.

"This place is way too cramped. Good thing I've got a great build; if it were some fat guy, he'd definitely get stuck at the entrance and couldn't get in. I saw a fat guy at the church last time, even fatter than that Williams you saw earlier..."

It was a good place to hide—remote, damp, and soundproof. If you hid a few people here, or some illegal goods, or conducted some kind of production, it would be nearly impossible for outsiders to discover.

There were fifteen steps in total. Lin An had counted them, which meant the basement of this abandoned factory was between three and a half to four meters underground.

A basement at this depth could block out minor noises from the surface. As long as it was renovated—for instance, by adding KTV-grade soundproofing materials—you could throw a party inside and no one would notice.

Reaching the bottom, the basement space opened up.

It was a large room of about two hundred square meters with a high ceiling, where crisscrossing pipes and wires were exposed.

A single lightbulb hung in the center of the room, casting a dim, yellow light that couldn't reach the corners, which were filled with heavy darkness.

Beyond that, the room still held a faint scent of wood and machine oil.

A makeshift bed sat against the wall, consisting of a few wooden planks propped up on empty paint buckets, covered with cardboard and a filthy blanket.

In the corner, there were piles of semi-finished furniture: a chair missing a leg, an unfinished tabletop, stacks of wood scraps, and an iron rack holding several rusted tools—saws, planes, and chisels, all covered in a layer of dust.

[Good place. It's a waste to just use this for living; you could totally set up some basic machine tools here and start production.]

[Production of what?]

[Production of some... hehehe, you know the kind of stuff.]

[Most importantly, it's very hidden. I checked, the main entrance has been blocked off by the bank. The only way in is the iron gate in the alley that Old Ni Ge led us through.]

"This used to be a carpentry workshop."

Old Joe walked to the corner, picked up a hammer missing its handle from the rack, and held it in his hand, his fingers slowly stroking the wooden grip.

"When the boss was still alive, this place was bustling every day..."

He paused, put the hammer back, and his voice dropped lower.

"Eight years. The day I finished my apprenticeship, the boss treated me to half a bottle of whiskey and said I had more talent than any carpenter he'd ever seen. He said I could be a master craftsman one day and open my own factory..."

He didn't continue.

For once, Darnell didn't chime in. He stood to the side, looking at the dust-covered tools, his expression unusually quiet.

Lin An walked a circle around the basement.

He inspected the walls; they were brick and stone, sturdy with no cracks. The ceiling was poured concrete, with pipes and wires running across it, showing no obvious damage.

As for ventilation, there was a small window at the far end of the room, level with the ground outside. It allowed in a gray, dim light; though small, it was sufficient.

He walked to the deepest part of the room and discovered a circular pipe opening, about half a meter in diameter, covered by a sheet of tin.

He lifted the tin and peered inside. The pipe was pitch black, and a cold draft blew out, carrying the scent of earth and dampness.

"Where does this lead?"

He asked Old Joe.

Old Joe walked over and took a look.

"It used to be a sawdust chute. It leads to the back of the building next door. It's not huge, but a person could crawl through it."

[Damn, a hidden escape route. If the police raid the place, people can escape through here.]

Lin An nodded, covered it back up with the tin, and walked back to the center of the room.

"Not a bad place."

He said.

Old Joe was stunned for a moment before realizing this was an assessment of the space, and a smile immediately broke out on his face.

"Sir, you think it works? It can house a lot of people. I can tidy up, clear out those wood scraps, and set up a few more beds—it's no problem at all. The faucet is over there..."

He pointed to a sink in the corner of the room.

"Though it's only cold water, it's enough. As for electricity, I ran a line over from the building next door. Someone there is stealing power, so I'm just tagging along."

"Fine."

Lin An sat down on the wooden plank bed against the wall.

"Old Joe, sit down and let's talk."

Old Joe hurriedly sat down nearby, his back straight as a board. Darnell also shuffled over, plopping down on the floor between them, looking up.

"What I want to do is very simple."

Lin An began.

"I need a crew to do day-labor jobs: cleaning, clearing trash, moving things—the kind of work that decent white folks don't want to do, and Black folks won't do because the pay is too low."

Old Joe listened intently.

"I don't have the money to pay wages right now."

Lin An said it very directly.

[No, you have money.]

[Where would the streamer get money?]

[The supplies we tipped, aren't those money?]

"But I can provide food and clean clothes. Once I land my first job and get paid, I'll pay everyone a salary."

Darnell chimed in from the side, his tone filled with anxious frustration.

"Bro, you're too honest. How can you just come out and say you don't have money? You have to brag! You have to say you're going to start a company, go public, and make everyone a manager. That's what a boss is supposed to say!"

"I don't brag."

Lin An glanced at Darnell.

"I speak the truth. Those who can accept it can come, those who can't don't have to. I don't want to lie to anyone."

Old Joe was silent for a moment, head bowed, looking at his frayed work boots.

"Mr. Lin, my current situation... as long as I can have a job, that's enough."

He looked up, a glimmer of pleading in his cloudy eyes.

"And I trust Darnell. Even though the kid has a foul mouth, he never lies. If he says you're reliable, then I believe him."

When Darnell heard this, a huge grin spread across his face, and he puffed out his chest.

"Did you hear that? Did you hear that..."

"Alright, alright."

Lin An raised a hand to stop his boasting.

"Besides this, I have another idea."

He swung the backpack off his shoulders and pulled out a set of gray cotton sweatpants, unfolding them under the dim light.

"This is a batch of surplus stock shipped from China. The quality is good. It's not a famous brand, but it's comfortable and durable. I have a channel to get a batch of these clothes and daily necessities at a very cheap price."

Old Joe reached out to touch the fabric, rubbing his fingers against the cotton.

"This material is good. A pair of pants like this would sell for at least fifteen dollars at Walmart."

"My cost is less than three dollars."

Lin An placed the pants on the bed frame.

"If I get others to help me sell them, I'll give them a commission... one dollar for every pair sold."

Darnell's eyes widened.

"Bro, are you saying you want to let homeless people be salespeople? Isn't that a bit crazy? Can they even do it? Won't they just take the clothes and run..."

Old Joe ignored Darnell. He looked down at the pants and remained silent for a long time.

"Mr. Lin, do you mean... let people like me go out on the street and sell these things? They can't even get enough to eat, how would they have the energy to sell anything?"

"If they aren't fed, then I'll feed them first, give them a shower, and get them into normal clothes."

Lin An said.

"Then I'll give them the goods and let them sell."

Old Joe looked up.

"But... we don't have identification. Many people have even sold their driver's licenses. If we sell things on the street, the police will arrest us."

"If they aren't willing to take the risk, then I'll give them a second option, which is work as a cleaner."

Lin An said.

"No matter what, I won't let them go hungry."

Darnell opened his mouth to say something, but for once, he didn't crack a joke.

He looked at Lin An, then at Old Joe, and finally just scratched his head and muttered.

"Bro, when you say things like that, it makes me want to work for you... wait, I'm already working for you."

Lin An ignored him. Just as he was about to continue, voices drifted down from above the three of them.

"...This is it, Queen Furniture Factory. It went bankrupt last year. The bank took it back but never processed it. I've been looking for two months, and this place is the most suitable."

A man's voice seeped down from the basement ceiling, echoing through the empty space.

Old Joe looked puzzled, and Darnell glanced at him, but both remained silent by tacit agreement.

The voice above sounded again, clearer this time, likely because the speaker had walked directly above the basement.

"...Those bastards from the Rainstorm Gang think it's over? In their dreams. I'm telling you, this area was ours to begin with..."

"Boss, how should we..."

"...Here."

"Gather the men, three days..."

Old Joe understood immediately from these few fragmented words, and his body began to tremble.

"...Checked, there's no one nearby..."

"Great... we can set up the guns here, the ones we brought..."

At this point, even the slow-witted Darnell understood what kind of people had arrived above.

This is bad, we can't stay here anymore... Darnell instinctively turned his head to look at Lin An, but the spot where a person should have been standing was empty.

Old Joe also noticed something was wrong; he turned his head and looked toward the direction where Lin An had been standing just a moment ago...

Beside the wooden bed, it was empty.

Lin An was gone.

Darnell blinked his eyes, then blinked again.

Where did he go?