American comics: I am full of martial virtues and I love to be kind to others.

A middle-aged man in a dark blue suit caught Lynn's attention. He was standing in front of a baccarat table, with a large pile of black chips in front of him—the highest denomination chips, each worth ten thousand dollars. He looked very tense, sweat beading on his forehead, his eyes fixed on the cards in the dealer's hand.

“Bet on the banker,” he said hoarsely, pushing all his chips out.

Lynn silently calculated that the pile of chips was at least $300,000.

The dealer deals the cards. The player gets eight points, and the banker gets seven points.

"Player wins," the dealer announced.

The middle-aged man's face turned deathly pale instantly. His legs went weak, and he almost fell to the ground, but the people around him quickly helped him up.

“I want to buy more,” he said, his voice trembling. “Give me more chips.”

“Mr. Zhang, your credit limit has been exhausted,” a woman in a black suit approached, her expression professional yet indifferent. “If you wish to continue, you will need to deposit additional funds.”

"I'll add more; I'll transfer the money tomorrow—"

"We're sorry, we only accept funds that arrive instantly."

A flicker of despair crossed the middle-aged man's eyes. He looked around, as if searching for someone. Then his gaze fell on Lynn.

“You,” he walked towards Lynn, “you’re a staff member here, right? Could you do me a favor? I just need to borrow another two hundred thousand—”

“I’m sorry,” Lynn said, “I’m just in charge of bookkeeping; I don’t have the authority to handle this kind of thing.”

"Please," the middle-aged man's voice became urgent, "I just need to gamble one more time, just one more time, and I can win it all back!"

His eyes were filled with a frenzied light, completely devoid of his previous air of a business elite. At this moment, he was like a drowning man, desperately grasping at anything that might save him.

“Mr. Zhang,” the woman in black approached, “please calm down. I suggest you go home and rest tonight, and come back tomorrow.”

"No!" the middle-aged man almost roared, "I can't leave! I've lost too much today, I have to win it all back!"

Two security guards approached and grabbed the middle-aged man's arms. "Mr. Zhang, please cooperate with our work."

The middle-aged man struggled a few times, but quickly gave up. His body went limp, and tears streamed down his face. "It's over. It's all over. My company, my shares, all gone."

He was taken away by security guards and disappeared through a side door of the casino.

Lynn watched this scene, a complex emotion welling up inside him.

This is the terrifying aspect of gambling—it can cause a successful businessman to lose his entire fortune in a few hours, and it can drive a rational person mad and desperate. The Brotherhood exploits this, turning these wealthy individuals into their puppets.

He returned to his office and began organizing the evening's accounts. Numbers flashed across the screen—one million, two million, three million—these weren't virtual numbers, but real money, representing the wealth and dreams of countless people.

Around 10 p.m., A-Qiang walked into the office area.

"How was it? How was your first day?"

“It was alright,” Lynn said. “I saw some interesting things.”

“That Mr. Zhang?” Ah Qiang smiled. “He’s a regular customer, coming at least three times a week. Last month he lost over two million here, and today he lost several hundred thousand more.”

What does he do?

“The owner of a tech company, a chip designer,” A-Qiang said. “The company is quite well-known, valued at several hundred million. But his gambling addiction is too great; he’s started misappropriating company funds to cover his losses.”

"He'll go bankrupt if this continues."

“That’s his problem,” Ah Qiang shrugged. “We’re only responsible for providing the service; how the customers choose is their own business.”

He glanced at his watch. "It's almost time to go home. You can come back tomorrow. It's from 3 PM to 2 AM every day, the salary is $8,000 per month, settled at the end of the month."

"OK."

Lynn packed his things and prepared to leave. But just as he reached the elevator, a voice came from behind him.

"and many more."

He turned around and saw a man in his thirties walking towards him. The man wore black-rimmed glasses, a plaid shirt, and jeans, and exuded the unique aura of an IT professional—pale skin, messy hair, and dark circles under his eyes from staying up too late.

"You're the new accountant, right?" the man asked, his voice trembling slightly.

"Yes. Is there anything I can help you with?"

"Could I borrow some money from you?"

Lynn frowned. "Lending money? That's not within my job scope."

“I know, I know,” the man said urgently, “but I really need to right now. I’ve lost a lot today, I need another chance, I can win it all back.”

"You should find a professional credit officer."

“They won’t lend me the money,” the man’s voice turned desperate. “They said my credit limit is maxed out. But I really just need one more time.”

He suddenly knelt down and grabbed Lynn's trouser leg.

“Please, help me,” he pleaded, tears welling in his eyes. “I know it’s shameful, but I really have no other choice. I’ve lost all my savings and am drowning in debt. If I can’t win it back, my life is over.”

Lynn looked down at the man kneeling on the ground, a complex emotion welling up inside her.

"What's your name?" he asked.

“Chen Wei,” the man looked up, a glimmer of hope in his eyes, “I’m a programmer, I work at, or rather, I used to work for, a tech company in the Bay Area.”

"once?"

“I was fired,” Chen Wei said bitterly, “because I was frequently absent and my work efficiency declined. It was all because of gambling. I poured all my time and energy into it, and in the end, I lost my job, my savings, everything.”

"Then why do you continue gambling?"

“Because…because I have no other choice,” Chen Wei’s voice trembled. “I owe too much money, and if I don’t win it back, I won’t be able to pay it back. Those people will kill me.”

"Who goes there?"

“The casino people,” Chen Wei said in a low voice, “they made it all sound when they lent me the money, but now they want me to pay back the principal plus interest, a total of two hundred thousand US dollars. I simply don’t have that much money.”

Lynn was silent for a moment. This was how underground casinos operated—first, they made people addicted to gambling, then they used loan sharks to keep them firmly under control. Once you were trapped, there was no getting out. "I can't help you," he finally said. "I really don't have the authority."

Chen Wei's expression turned to despair. He released Lynn's trouser leg, slumped to the ground, buried his head in his hands, and let out a low sob.

"It's over. It's all over."

Lynn looked at him, hesitated for a moment, and then squatted down.

“Listen to me,” he lowered his voice, “gambling is not the way out. The more you gamble, the more you lose; it’s a bottomless pit.”

"I know, but what can I do? I can't pay back that money."

“Go find help,” Lynn said. “There are many ways to help you get out of this mess: addiction support groups, counseling, debt restructuring. Continuing to gamble will only make things worse.”

Chen Wei looked up at Lynn with a blank expression. "Why are you helping me? Aren't you from here?"

“I’m just a bookkeeper,” Lynn stood up. “My job is to record numbers, not to ruin people’s lives.”

He turned and walked toward the elevator, but before pressing the button, he glanced back at Chen Wei.

"Take good care of yourself."

The elevator doors opened, and he stepped inside. As the doors closed, the last thing he saw was Chen Wei still kneeling on the floor, appearing exceptionally small and lonely under the flashing lights of the casino.

Lynn took the elevator back to the ground floor and then walked away from Sands Pavilion.

When Lynn returned to the hotel, it was already 3 a.m.

Kevin was still waiting for him, but he had already fallen asleep on the sofa. Lynn gently pushed open the door, not wanting to wake him, but Kevin still woke up.

"Lynn?" He rubbed his eyes. "You're back? How were you?"

“It’s been a great experience,” Lynn said, sitting down in a nearby chair. “I’ve been assigned to work at an underground casino, doing bookkeeping.”

"An underground casino?" Kevin immediately perked up.

Lynn told Kevin about her experience that night—the size of the casino, the crazy gamblers, the "special client" documents, and the programmer who knelt down begging for money.

Kevin's expression turned serious after hearing this. "This is more complicated than we imagined."

“Yes,” Lynn nodded, “the Brotherhood isn’t just a terrorist organization; it’s also an underground empire that controls vast resources and connections. Casinos are just one part of their business; through casinos, they can gather dirt on wealthy people and turn them into their pawns.”

"Could those capitalists—Victor Chen, Alan West—be also being controlled in this way?"

“Possibly,” Lynn said, “but it’s also possible they’ve proactively partnered with the Brotherhood. In any case, I need more time to investigate.”

What are you planning to do?

“Continue working at the casino, gather intelligence,” Lynn said. “The files on those ‘special clients’ might contain the evidence we need. If I can find direct links between those capitalists and the Brotherhood, I can dismantle this network in one fell swoop.”

Kevin nodded, but his face still showed worry. "Be careful."

"I will."

Lynn stood up and walked towards his room. Before opening the door, he stopped and looked back at Kevin.

"By the way, have you found anything about Zhou Jianguo's matter?"

Kevin's expression became somewhat complicated. "We found him. He is indeed an FBI informant, codenamed 'Bluebird.' He was recruited three years ago to provide intelligence on criminal organizations in the Bay Area."

Who is his contact person?

“That’s the strange thing,” Kevin said. “His contact’s codename is ‘Falcon,’ but I can’t find out who that person really is. All the relevant files are encrypted, and I don’t have permission to access them.”

Lynn frowned. "The identity of a federal informant's contact is being kept highly confidential? That's unusual."

“Yes,” Kevin nodded, “unless…that contact’s identity is highly sensitive and requires special protection.”

“Or,” Lynn said, his eyes sharpening, “the contact himself is the problem.”

They exchanged a glance and saw the same suspicion in each other's eyes.

“Eileen Shaw is right,” Lynn said softly. “The people around us are probably much more complicated than we think.”

The next afternoon, Lynn arrived at Jinsha Pavilion on time to report for duty.

The underground casino was unusually quiet during the day. Most of the gambling tables were empty, with only a few cleaners sweeping the floor and mopping away the stains left from the previous night. The crystal chandelier was still on, but the light seemed somewhat cold in the empty hall, like a stage without makeup, revealing its true, pale face.

Lynn walked into the office area and sat down at his workstation. On the desk was a new stack of documents—last night's revenue report, customer transaction records, and some accounts that needed to be reconciled.

He turned on his computer and began to check the data item by item.

This is a tedious but important job. Every transaction needs to be compared with the original vouchers to ensure that the amount, date, and customer information are accurate. Even the smallest error can lead to accounting discrepancies and cause bigger problems.

Lynn worked while keeping an eye on her surroundings. There were two other people in the office area—a middle-aged woman in charge of cashiering and a young man in charge of customer service. They were both engrossed in their work, occasionally exchanging a few brief words, the atmosphere calm and routine.

Around 5 p.m., Lynn discovered a problem while checking an old set of accounts.

It was a three-month-old overdraft record for $150,000, with the customer code "Delta-27". According to the ledger records, this money had not been repaid and was marked as a "bad debt".

Strangely, in the bank statements from the same period, Lynn discovered a $150,000 deposit of unknown origin. This money had no source indicated and was simply categorized as "other income."

Two sums of $150,000 each: one is an outstanding bad debt, and the other is income from an unknown source. There must be something wrong with this.

Lynn began to investigate further.

He pulled up the full file for "Delta-27". This was a client named Wang Zhiqiang, 42 years old, who ran a small software company in the Bay Area. According to the file, he started coming to Sands Casino two years ago, initially just gambling small amounts, but gradually became more and more addicted, losing over $500,000 in total. Three months ago, he last incurred a debt of $150,000 and hasn't been seen since.

The ledger states: The customer is unreachable, and the funds cannot be recovered; therefore, it is classified as a bad debt.

But what about that $150,000 of unknown origin?

Lynn continued to scrutinize the relevant documents, trying to find more clues. He discovered that this "other income" was entered by the former accountant—a man named Li Minghui. And shortly after this payment was recorded, Li Minghui left Jinsha Pavilion.

Manager Zhou mentioned that the previous finance manager "had some problems." Could this be what he meant?
Lynn decided to investigate personally. (End of Chapter)