Collecting the Money

Also backstage at the theater, the bald, short, fat Doyle joined the cast and crew in grabbing a taco from an insulated food carrier and taking a bite.

"Mmm... not bad. Authentic Mexican flavor. I like it." Doyle grabbed a fruit milkshake from another insulated carrier, took a sip, and praised it even more lavishly.

The theater security guard stood beside Doyle, grinning. "A new food truck delivered these. The quality really is pretty good. Hopefully it stays that way."

"A food truck?" Something occurred to Doyle, and he immediately chuckled. "I know. It must be the truck I came across last night.

"A Mexican couple runs it. Business looked good, so I asked them for five hundred dollars in protection money. They countered with just three hundred."

Doyle sneered. "Looks like I need to get a few people to teach them a lesson. If you make money on Broadway, you need to know how to pay tribute."

"Run by Mexicans? Not Asians?" the security guard asked in surprise. "An Asian kid brought the late-night meals today. He specifically asked about you, too. Looked pretty unhappy."

"Asian?" A vicious grin spread across Doyle's fat face. "I like Asians best. So easy to communicate with, men or women."

As the two talked, actors came over one after another, pulling out a few bills and exchanging them for a small packet from Doyle.

Each transaction passed with hardly a word, as though they had an unspoken understanding. In less than half an hour, Doyle had another thousand dollars in his pocket. The profits were enormous.

Once he had emptied his pockets of merchandise, Doyle took out a hundred dollars and handed it to the security guard, patting his shoulder. "Keep an eye on things for me. Remember to let me know right away if you hear anything."

The guard had spent all that time keeping him company just for this moment of getting paid. Beaming, he replied, "No problem. A pleasure doing business. I'll find a chance to teach that defiant Asian a lesson."

Doyle thought little of it, but he liked the feeling of having people flatter him and offer extra services.

Just a dozen or so meters away, Lin Rui spotted Doyle standing with the theater security guard through several backstage scenery flats and committed his face to memory.

Andrea stood beside Lin Rui and warned him, "Leon, just remember what he looks like. Don't do anything rash.

"That guy's a street broker, a drug dealer, a police informant, and a fringe member of a gang.

"None of us likes him, but apart from Director Sophia, nobody at the theater dares offend him. We have to put up with him."

Lin Rui was not at all surprised by Andrea's advice. He only asked curiously, "Why is Director Sophia an exception?"

"Because our artistic director is a bit of a moral purist." Andrea gathered her words. "I'm not saying she's a bad person. Quite the opposite-she's nice.

"It's just that her personality is completely different from everyone else's.

"In New York, where material desires run rampant, she's actually an ascetic, clinging to naive fantasies of purity. She's in her thirties, with no children and no husband.

"Everyone calls her an 'old maid' behind her back and guesses she's never been loved.

"You know, that term is an insult in the United States. Of course, you could also call her 'a woman of faith.'

"But these days, what good is faith?"

Lin Rui recalled encountering Sophia the witch in the Nightmare Space last time. She had indeed been icy, beautiful, but rigid.

As for "faith," the old priest also practiced his faith through his actions. It seemed only people with firm faith could become sources of help in the Nightmare Space.

But what did that make Toby? He had appeared in the Nightmare Space too. Could his faith be... "ignorance is strength"?

Midnight gradually approached.

Tonight, the theater's assistant manager paid Lin Rui for the late-night meals ahead of time.

But Lin Rui frowned as he counted the money. "Seven dollars a meal, one hundred meals, seven hundred dollars in total. But there's only five hundred here."

The assistant manager gave Lin Rui a contemptuous glance. "A Big Mac meal at KFC only costs five fifty. How could your tacos possibly sell for seven dollars?"

Lin Rui's expression chilled. Refusing to give an inch, he snapped, "That's the price we agreed on. If it's too expensive, you don't have to buy."

The assistant manager sneered. "Asian kid, you don't seem to understand the rules. I let you do business here. Don't you know to give me a kickback?

"Even the security guards at the theater entrance understand that. Keep running your mouth and don't bother delivering tomorrow. Plenty of people would be willing to take this business."

Andrea quietly tugged at Lin Rui and whispered, "Leon, don't get angry. This really is an unwritten rule for ordering food. You have to give the person paying a kickback."

The assistant manager kept sneering. Before leaving, he even gave Lin Rui the middle finger and spat, "You Asians are all yellow-skinned monkeys who need to be taught a lesson."

Lin Rui had still been considering whether to swallow it, but at those words, he immediately shook off Andrea's hand, strode forward, and punched the assistant manager in the nose.

The man was in his thirties and looked like a professional elite, but booze and sex had hollowed him out. He was even weaker than the physically inactive Lin Rui. One punch sent blood streaming from his nose, and he collapsed with a thud.

Andrea froze in fright. Looking around, she cried in a hushed voice, "Leon, stop! You're going to be the death of me. I'll lose my job because of your recklessness."

The assistant manager groaned and cursed, still trying to crawl up and call for help. Lin Rui stepped over and kicked him in the chest, knocking him unconscious outright.

Andrea switched to a hushed scream. "Fuck, Leon, this is a crime. If this guy calls the police, you'll definitely be deported."

Lin Rui said indignantly, "A drug dealer openly sells contraband in your theater, and you all turn a blind eye. Now I'm just trying to get what I'm owed, and suddenly you're overflowing with a sense of justice?"

Andrea snapped in a low voice, "Damn it, this world never made sense in the first place. I'm on your side, but do you expect me to go head-to-head with a drug dealer? Now we have to find a way to clean up this mess."

"How much do you make a month?" Lin Rui asked.

"A little over four thousand dollars. Less than four thousand after taxes and insurance," Andrea replied. "Why are you asking?"

"If you lose your job, worst case, you can run the food truck with me and make over ten thousand a month," Lin Rui said dismissively.

Andrea was so angry she laughed. "You should worry about yourself. This guy you beat up is a bastard. Once he wakes up and calls the police, nobody can protect you."

Lin Rui glanced down contemptuously, then reached down and searched the assistant manager, pulling out the two hundred dollars he had pocketed. "Go back first. I'll deal with this guy."

Andrea looked terrified. "Leon, you're not going to kill him, are you? Killing someone is easy; hiding the body is hard. Once the police open an investigation, I won't lie for you."

"Of course not." Lin Rui lifted Andrea's chin, brought his face close to hers, and stared into her large, uneasy eyes. "Be good. Go back first. I'll handle the rest."

Andrea looked down at the unconscious assistant manager, then at Lin Rui's calm, composed face. She lowered her voice. "I absolutely won't give false testimony. The most I'll do is say I don't know anything."

With that, the girl turned and ran, her footsteps clattering.

Lin Rui pulled his phone from his pocket and checked the time. Only a minute or two remained until midnight. "Oh, one last question. Where's your artistic director?"

"Director Sophia? She has a small private room at the theater, but she might already be asleep."

"Asleep is exactly what I want."