Please let money corrupt me

Gordon dropped Qin Wei off at Bridge Mouth, then returned to the police station.

Qin Wei received a text just after getting out of the car.

The down payment for the manor had arrived-a full ten million dollars. After transaction taxes, the remaining sixty-odd million would be deposited in installments.

"Fuck!"

Qin Wei cursed with a laugh. Gotham's government doesn't do a damn thing, but it sure knows how to gouge people on transaction taxes! A hundred and twenty million, and I only get seventy million. If they really push me too far one day, I might just put on a mask and rob banks with the Joker Gang, spraying bullets at police cars while tossing dollar bills out the back. Not for any other reason-just to let off some steam.

Still, whatever else he might say, he had made his first fortune.

Next, he would spend big to recruit some capable subordinates.

Last night's riot had stopped at the Lower District without spreading across the river. His Ferrari was still parked safely beneath the bridge, its body coated in ash.

Qin Wei wanted to withdraw some money from the bank, but unfortunately, he couldn't drive. He scrolled through his contacts, several faces drifting through his mind, before finally settling on "Uncle" Royce at the very bottom of the list.

"Hello~"

"Haaah-"

A lazy, raspy yawn came from the other end. Qin Wei could almost picture a middle-aged man lying on a sofa in his socks, his hair disheveled and his eyes bleary.

"Something happened last night. Not taking any jobs today. Bye..."

Royce had never been particularly ambitious. Otherwise, with his seniority, even if he couldn't manage Maroni's drug business, he should at least have been running a few casinos like Richie. Whatever the case, he shouldn't have fallen so low that he had to form the "Three Poor Giants" with Oswald and Baron.

He was the very definition of squandering a winning hand.

As for his current situation, last night's riot had kept him awake until morning. Now that his sleep had been interrupted again, Royce just wanted to hang up and get back to his lovely dream.

"Don't hang up! It's Will. I need you for something."

At those words, Royce rubbed his eyes and sprang off the sofa.

News that Qin Wei had sold the manor hadn't reached the other bosses yet. In Royce's eyes, Qin Wei was still the big shot who had inherited the drug business, not to mention Maroni's favorite. He couldn't afford to offend him.

Before long, Royce arrived in his car. He looked exactly as Qin Wei had expected: his eyes still barely open, his hair a tangled bird's nest.

Rather than a gangster, he looked more like a middle-aged office drone who had just been fired.

"Hello, sir. I'm Royce Ben, nicknamed 'Uncle.' You can also call me Uncle Ben."

Afraid Qin Wei wouldn't recognize him, Royce launched straight into a spectacular introduction.

"Uncle Ben? Then you'd better be careful, especially when driving your nephew around. Don't go saying anything like 'With great power comes great responsibility.'"

"What?"

"Never mind. Just pretend I'm talking nonsense." Qin Wei deeply regretted that people from DC couldn't get Marvel jokes.

"Back to business. I called you here because I want you to be my driver for a day."

"What?"

"Come on, is that the only word you know?"

It wasn't that Royce's language module had malfunctioned. Qin Wei's request was simply too baffling.

He couldn't believe the man had summoned him for a cheap job anyone could do, one that paid about fifty dollars a day.

"Enough talk. Get in!" Qin Wei shoved the keys into Royce's hand and pushed him into the car.

He had been pressed into service, but the middle-aged man was, after all, a seasoned veteran. Even a 1963 Ferrari GT couldn't stir his slacker's heart. He settled into the driver's seat with a massive yawn.

"What kind of car is this? The seats are so low."

"The steering wheel feels pretty nice. Fake leather, right? Almost like the real thing!"

"What the fuck? This... this power!"

...Or perhaps he simply knew nothing about cars.

They sped all the way to the bank, and by the time they arrived, Royce's eyes were bright and clear.

Sure enough, a thoroughly satisfying drive was the best lubricant for a man.

As luck would have it, Qin Wei had come to Gotham Central Bank-the very bank that would be robbed in a month. Apparently, banks weren't safe either. He needed to withdraw his money and convert it into hard assets as soon as possible.

From walking through the revolving doors into the lobby to waiting in the VIP area for his withdrawal, everything went so smoothly that Qin Wei felt a little disappointed.

There had been no "snobbish doorman" or "condescending teller" encounters as he had anticipated. Everyone who served him was courteous, and not one of them looked down on him for his tattered suit.

He bounced his leg, idly admiring the bank's Gothic interior and the huge, magnificent Crystal Chandelier overhead.

Thinking back, this world was frighteningly real. Aside from Dr. Hugo's few Biomen and the spoiler-filled comic in his pocket, no supernatural forces had intervened.

Gotham wasn't ruled by genetically modified villains, nor was Batman out fighting criminals.

The dead didn't come back to life, either.

Soon, the teller returned with a huge briefcase containing two million dollars. In consideration of Qin Wei's injured hand, the bank had even thoughtfully assigned a tall, burly security guard to carry it.

Qin Wei had thought the visit would be uneventful, but a little incident still awaited him near the bank entrance.

A thin man with shifty eyes rushed into the lobby, shoved past security, and pulled a revolver from his pocket.

The man was far too nervous. As he raised the gun threateningly, he backed away on trembling legs.

He had focused all his attention on the two guards at the entrance, so much so that he was almost backing into Qin Wei without even noticing.

"Everybody put your hands..."

Before he could finish, the guard beside Qin Wei sprang into action. He lunged forward, grabbed the man's head, and slammed it into the marble reception counter.

Thud!

"I hope that didn't disturb you, sir. It was just a minor incident. Please have complete confidence in our bank's security system. Your money will be perfectly safe here."

After casually dealing with the criminal, the dedicated guard hadn't forgotten to put in a good word for his employer.

"Safe? Let's hope so." Qin Wei shook his head with a smile.

Outside the bank, Qin Wei found Royce smoking while leaning against a parking meter.

The older man really was a heavy smoker. In just half an hour, seven or eight cigarette butts had accumulated on the ground. He had practically been chain-smoking the entire time.

"Sir, I still think you should find someone else to drive."

Once they were back in the car, Royce brought up the subject again. Apparently, the Ferrari's appeal was limited.

Of all the bosses, Royce was the least calculating. Qin Wei also considered him the best potential partner after Oswald. If he wanted to recruit people in the Lower District, Royce's help would be indispensable.

Since the car couldn't sway him, it was time to bring out the big guns!

Qin Wei slid his seat back, leaving enough room to open the briefcase.

Click. The metal clasps snapped open with a crisp, pleasant sound.

As he opened the case, the entire caseful of dollar bills began giving off a delightful scent of ink. Qin Wei leaned in and took a deep breath, smacking his lips in bliss.

He felt as though he was about to be corrupted by the stink of money.

He picked up a thick stack of bills and hefted it in his hand. Feeling the weight of the money, Qin Wei's mind filled with thoughts.

He remembered the first pot of money he had earned from Maroni by risking his life in the sewers. After deducting what Oswald had spent on the car, his final share had amounted to just what he was holding now: thirty thousand dollars.

Back then, Qin Wei had bought himself a designer suit without a moment's hesitation-the same tattered suit he was wearing now. After that, he had spent freely, letting the money slip out of his pocket bit by bit.

Not because he was a spendthrift, but because he firmly believed he could earn more.

And today, he had done it.

Even now, his philosophy remained unchanged: better investments brought greater returns.

He tossed the stack of money onto Royce.

"Sir, this isn't about money!" Royce glanced at the cash on his lap and gave a wry smile.

Qin Wei grabbed another stack and tossed it over.

"The boss doesn't allow money to change hands between his lieutenants!" Royce rubbed his hands together, but ultimately didn't dare accept it.

Qin Wei tossed over another stack.

"You're putting me in a very difficult position..."

Royce scratched his head in frustration. He knew he wasn't someone who could easily be moved by money. A slacker would never bow to money and waste his precious leisure time.

Unless there was enough money.

Slap! His answer was another thick stack landing on his lap.

In the end, the weight of the money crushed his defenses.

He buttoned up his shirt, spat into his palm, and smoothed down his hair in the rearview mirror.

When he turned back, his gaze had become focused and sharp.

"My esteemed sir, where is our next stop?"

"A nice place where I can fill my trunk with weapons."