"Isn’t that right, Tom!"
Hearing Frank call his na, Tom quickly sat up. "That’s right, Feng, the Arican Governnt is the most shaless governnt there is, bar none."
"There’s a popular saying that all Arican presidents in history have been shaless. You can’t beco president if you have any sha, and the most shaless one is always the current one."
Frank was very satisfied with Tom’s cooperation and magnanimously crossed Tom’s na off the little black list in his mind.
"Are you listening? This is why I suggest you beco the Sheriff of Crown Territory and Kivalina. You need a reputation. Sotis, a reputation is like a prostitute’s bikini—you can tear it off whenever you want. But other tis, it’ll be your strongest shield, protecting you from all kinds of malice."
"The Far North Tundra Region is an autonomous region designated by the state of Alaska. Many of the Indigenous towns, communities, and villages there haven’t established any security agencies. As long as you can win the support of the Indigenous People, any power that wants to move against you will have to think twice. That’s why I’m backing you."
"I get it!" Feng Mountain nodded, his expression grave. His brow was furrowed, but his eyes betrayed a deep-seated frustration.
Frank clapped a hand on Feng Mountain’s shoulder, flashing a benevolent, almost grandmotherly smile.
"Don’t worry, I’ll help you. I’ll take care of everything. You just focus on enjoying life."
Just then.
The chatty young man from his hotown walked over to the booth with their food, calling out as he approached.
"Order’s up!"
"Hey, man. This is authentic Chinese food, not that stuff they make to fool the foreigners. I personally watched Lao Liu while he cooked it." The chatty young man winked at Feng Mountain.
Frank picked up his chopsticks and said impassively, "Friend, I understand Mandarin. Get Lin over here to give an explanation."
Ah!
The chatty young man’s smile instantly soured into a grimace, his mind reeling as if trampled by a thousand horses.
’How co all these foreigners know so Chinese nowadays? It’s getting so you can’t even bad-mouth soone unless you’re sure they’re not listening.’
"He’s just kidding. You can go," Feng Mountain said with a laugh, defusing the situation and dismissing the young man.
"Hmm, it really does taste different." Frank picked up a slice of fish, chewed it thoughtfully, and nodded. He turned to look at Tom, who was scowling fiercely, battling a piece of squid with a chopstick in each hand. "You know, you can use a fork. Otherwise, people are going to think you’re planning to rob the place."
"Fack, whoever invented chopsticks should go to Hell," Tom muttered, grabbing his fork.
Halfway through the al, Lin, the restaurant’s owner, showed up. He had a beer with the three of them, sent over a complintary dish, and then hauled the chatty young man away.
As dinner was winding down.
A phone rang. Frank answered it, and his expression turned strange. He got up and left, not returning for quite so ti.
He stared at Feng Mountain with a questioning look, holding his gaze until Feng Mountain started to feel unnerved. Finally, he asked.
"When did you get involved with the Indians from the Yukon Region?"
’Indians from the Yukon Region?’
Feng Mountain looked completely baffled. The only Indian he knew was Nash.
"Not Nash. The Wild Bull Tribe from the Yukon River District." Seeing Feng Mountain’s expression, Frank understood that he truly was in the dark. He picked up his glass from the table and took a large gulp. "Vergil Villa was blown up by a group of Indigenous People from the Wild Bull Tribe. My friend at the FBI says it wasn’t just the Wild Bull Tribe at the scene; it seems there was another power involved."
Upon hearing that Vergil had been eliminated.
Tom’s face went deathly pale. When he looked at Feng Mountain now, the old familiarity was gone, replaced by the sense that he was looking at a complete and extrely dangerous stranger.
’Even though Vergil was hiding out in Polaris Town, he had so serious backing. He had connections to several gangs in Anchorage; I even ran so deliveries for him a few tis.’
’But now? Just because he threatened Feng Mountain a little, he gets taken out.’
’And how long has it been? Not even four hours from start to finish.’
Feng Mountain, for his part, was completely bewildered.
’I didn’t do anything. Or rather, I hadn’t even had a chance to do anything yet.’
’And that fat bastard just croaked!’
"As long as you’re not involved, it’s fine. Co on, I’ll take you to see your final gift." Frank set down his glass, grabbed his coat, and walked out of the restaurant. Then, as if rembering sothing, he stopped and turned back.
"Tom’s paying for this al. Consider it paynt for your bail."
Hearing this, Tom wasn’t the least bit angry. In fact, he cheerfully pulled out his wallet and headed for the register.
’As long as Frank wasn’t angry, he’d willingly pay for ten als like this.’
...
After dinner, night fell on Fairbanks.
A blast of cold wind hit them as they stepped out of the restaurant.
In the cold mist, the streetlights seed to blur, casting an illusory veil over the entire city.
Looking up, the sky was filled with countless stars, their brilliant light seeming to answer the glow of the streetlights below.
The three of them got into their own cars, tires crunching on the packed snow as they pulled out of the restaurant’s parking lot.
The cars had not gone far when the chatty young man rushed out of the restaurant after them. Seeing their distant taillights, he shook his head in disappointnt.
The houses on both sides of the street stood silently in the night. Outside the car windows, the cold wind howled, whipping up flurries of snow from the roadside.
Frank drove for several blocks before turning onto a quiet, secluded street. It was lined with detached, two-story wooden houses. Compared to the poor neighborhood they had passed through on the way to the assembly that day, this street was much cleaner.
The car stopped at the curb.
"We’re here. Get out." Frank pushed his door open and gestured for Feng Mountain to follow, also signaling for Tom, who was behind them, to join.
The three of them walked up to one of the houses, where Frank felt along the top of the doorfra and retrieved a key.
When he opened the door, a thick cloud of smoke billowed out, as if the house were on fire.
"On second thought, we’d better wait a mont," Frank said, a corner of his mouth twitching in embarrassnt.
After a mont, the smoke dissipated.
The three of them stepped inside, passing through an entryway into a living room.
Four or five people, both n and won, were sitting in the living room, all quietly watching TV. On the coffee table, an ashtray overflowed with cigarette butts that had spilled out onto the surface.
’Who are they??’
Feng Mountain realized that ever since he’d arrived in Fairbanks and t up with Frank, things had beco completely unpredictable. ’I feel like a puppet being pulled every which way,’ he thought. It was an awful feeling.
CLAP! CLAP! CLAP!
With a resigned look, Frank walked in front of the television and clapped his hands.
Only then did the group look up.
"Thank God your boss is here. You can all get going now. The landlord has already called several tis. And aren’t you worried about getting lung cancer?" Frank said, pointing to Feng Mountain, who was standing off to the side.
The group turned in unison to look at Feng Mountain.
Feng Mountain’s brow furrowed. He had no idea what ga Frank was playing, but where on earth had he dredged up this motley crew?
’There’s a bookish-looking guy with glasses, so skinny he’s just skin and bones; a strong gust of wind would probably blow him away.’
’A young man in a military uniform looks normal enough, but there’s sothing off about his impossibly sharp collar and cuffs that just looks awkward.’
’A girl with a full sleeve of tattoos that creep up her neck, and a piercing at the corner of her mouth.’
’One woman looks relatively normal, but a scar runs across her pretty face from between her eyebrows down to the corner of her mouth, marring her beauty.’
’And the last girl looks like a frightened animal, curled up on the sofa and keeping her head down, refusing to et anyone’s gaze.’
’Wait a minute!!’
’What did Frank just say?’
’Their boss is here?’
’Who’s the boss? Tom?’
Feng Mountain turned to look at the utterly confused Tom, who had a hapless expression and looked nothing like a boss. That left only one possibility.
’The boss Frank was talking about... must be .’
’Son of a bitch!!’
’You’ve got to be kidding .’
"Frank, I need an explanation!"
"Buddy, co over here!" Frank beckoned to Feng Mountain and then lowered his voice.
"Didn’t you tell last ti to do nine good deeds? Well, I founded Frank’s Ho for Wanderers and found so people in very sorry situations. I figured a suitable environnt would be good for them, and for you. For example, the Crown Territory."
"Jenny Cecil. Yes, that’s her." Frank pointed to the woman with the scar.
"Thirty years old. She used to be a two-star Michelin chef. Her husband was an alcoholic who beat her every ti he got drunk. The scar on her face is from when he cut her with a knife. In the end, Jenny stabbed her husband with a dinner knife and fled their terrifying ho, eventually ending up wandering the streets of Fairbanks."
"Yves Kingsley, twenty-seven. Served eight years with the Rangers. After his discharge, he suffered from war-related PTSD, which led to a divorce. He’s been holess ever since."
"David Steel, nineteen. University of Alaska. He suffers from anorexia and was abused by his parents, so he ran away from ho."
"Erica Grace, twenty-four. She was sexually assaulted by a family mber and sold to a prostitution ring. Social services rescued her and put her in a shelter, but she later ended up on the streets of Fairbanks."
"Tammy Lucas, twenty. Also abused by her family and sent to a shelter. I’m the one who took her in."
...
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