America 2009: Survival of the Underclass

Cole returned quickly, clutching the registration form and vest, and carrying two bulging white plastic bags.

Looking at the tightly closed door, he hesitated for a moment before daring to raise his hand and knock lightly.

The sound of knuckles touching the door panel was very soft, conveying a sense of caution.

Only when a lazy "Come in" came from inside did he push open the door as if granted a pardon, slip inside, and gently close the door behind him.

"Sir, Madam, I've brought you some food and toiletries," he said softly, standing upright and looking at the two people on the bed.

Karen nodded and said with amusement, "Then thank you very much, Pastor."

A glint flashed in Cole's eyes, and he immediately seized the opportunity, saying ingratiatingly, "Just call me Smith."

"Are you also Smith?" Leon asked with great interest.

"Cole Smith." He nodded nervously.

Karen and Leon exchanged a glance, and she said softly, "Let's put the things down first, Cole."

"Okay!" He nodded, carefully placing the plastic bags and vest he was carrying in both hands on the bedside table near the door, still clutching the registration form and pen in his hand, his eyes fixed on them.

Li Ang tapped the bed with his left hand and said casually, "We'll report the information, you help us fill it out."

He nodded, took two steps to the bedside, squatted down, spread the registration form on the bed, held the ballpoint pen, and stared intently at the form.

The two slowly gave their information and registered. Then, Cole took out a small official seal from his jacket pocket and stamped it with a "snap," confirming his identity.

In these community church centers, all affairs are handled by the resident pastor alone, without having to go through complicated procedures.

He looked at Cole, who was frozen on the ground, too afraid to move, and patted him on the shoulder a few times, saying, "Alright, you've finished taking care of John over there, and that's all you need to do."

"Okay, Mr. Smith." He nodded quickly, stood up, gently opened the door, walked out, and closed the door behind him.

With the soft click of the door lock closing, the room fell silent again.

"That Rolex shouldn't have been given to that coward. With the video in our hands, he wouldn't dare disobey," Karen said with amusement, looking at the closed door.

He looked away, looked down into her eyes, and said softly, "A fentanyl sold on the street for $20 a piece can take us and him to meet God, my friend."

He paused, his tone chilling: "Who knows if this coward will suddenly turn on us and drag us down with him?"

"That makes sense." She nodded in realization and said seriously, "Human thoughts are unpredictable. We're not Jason Bourne; we can't be on high alert 24/7 to guard against things."

He nodded, put his arm around Karen's shoulder, and pulled her closer to him.

"That watch represents the law."

His voice was deep, and his eyes were resolute: "As long as you don't break the rules, you'll always be fine."

"even……"

He paused, a playful smile playing on his lips, "To earn more Franklins than one can spend within the framework of the law."

"Relying solely on videos is chaotic, unpredictable... a Damocles' sword hanging over our heads."

Karen leaned against him and couldn't help but laugh.

"You really know men, Mr. Smith," she teased, shrugging her shoulders.

He lowered his head and gently kissed her forehead.

"This applies to everyone, regardless of gender or age."

He said softly, "Humans are born with a need for order and can never get used to chaos and disorder."

She nodded, crossed her arms, leaned back, and said casually, "You clever little devil, how much does your crappy charity even start at?"

As she led him to lie down on the bed, Li Ang turned his head to look into her eyes. "At least $15. I don't want to start by setting up a stall and dealing with street gangs. I'd rather focus my energy on other things; the returns would be far greater."

He paused, then said casually, "I still need to deal with my serious criminal record first."

Karen raised an eyebrow, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. "I take back what I said earlier about being a 'clever little devil'."

She played with his fingers and teased, "You may be a white trash, but don't forget you're also a contest-level white—the judges are happy to redeem reformed white teenagers with hearts of gold."

He paused for a moment, then couldn't help but chuckle softly, "Jesus~ I actually forgot about this."

"You are still the pastor's lost sheep who has turned back," she reminded him.

He kissed Karen on the cheek and joked, "You don't need to tell me that. Money is the most important thing. We still have to work hard, Ms. Smith."

She nodded sweetly. "My explorer, you have to buy it for me first, Mr. Smith."

"Of course, no problem. I'll buy it for you once I have enough money, and then we'll start a charity fund." He agreed without hesitation.

"Perhaps we can get Cole to—"

"Shut up! You've already forgotten what I just told you," he said helplessly, pressing his hand against Karen's lips.

A hint of embarrassment flashed across her face, she chuckled, and nestled her head against his chest.

“A pastor who is obedient and tied to us is far more important than a few hundred thousand dollars, and—” he stroked Karen’s back and said softly, “he’s just a community pastor; he can’t get a few hundred thousand dollars.”

"OK! Mr. Smith! You're the expert this time, I'll listen to you," she said in a muffled voice, her face pressed against her chest.

"Of course, while you were away for the past few years, I've been studying how to operate a charitable organization."

He paused, gently patted Karen's back, a glint of shrewdness flashing in his eyes, "If things go well, we can wear that multi-million dollar watch that dead bitch is wearing—instead of just having fun in the morgue and thinking we're lucky."

"Fuck you~, you coward, stop making empty promises."

She lifted her head from her chest, looked into his eyes, and teased him.

"You should buy the explorer you promised first, and then you can talk about buying me a $10,000 watch."

"They'll talk about buying a house after you've bought the watch, they're just trying to scam you step by step, M3?"

He paused for a moment, then couldn't help but laugh out loud. "Jesus, you're such a practical woman. You keep the accounts even clearer than the tax bureau."

"I'm not some rural Cinderella, some prince charming from the slums who just spouts a few empty words and runs off with me as a free prostitute." She nodded, then continued noncommittally, "and then, after getting all the money and having his fun, he kicks me back to the countryside, where I spend my days tending livestock and shedding tears."

He reached out and pinched Karen's cheek, teasingly saying, "So you're treating me like some kind of prince charming from the slums?"

"Do you live in an apartment in the Loop area? Little Smith on South Homan Street?" She nodded and joked.

"You're not some Cinderella from the countryside picking up cow dung, Mrs. Smith from South Homan Street," he teased, raising an eyebrow.

She paused for a moment, then couldn't help but laugh. "Jesus! Your nonsense sounds like that of a greasy, disgusting middle-aged pig."

"You like the South Side way, Ms. Smith." He flipped her over, propping his arms on either side of his head, and said earnestly.

"Of course! Coward, don't learn from those damn middle-class idiots, they're boring and dull." She nodded sweetly, her eyes burning with desire.

He looked at her, a burning glint in his eyes. "That depends on whether you, you blonde bitch, can live to see tomorrow morning."

"You coward? Ha." She raised an eyebrow and scoffed, "You talk bigger than Thomson, the legendary donkey."

He paused for a moment, then chuckled, "So, do you know that Thomson is gay, and the one who's hunched over?"

"Jesus! Christ! Oh my god! Really?! How did you know?" She pushed him away with both hands, sat up, and asked in surprise.

He shook his head with a smile: "He and the bartender from Ellebo were having a gay encounter in the bathroom, playing a choking game. He got strangled by a belt and passed out. The bartender thought he was dead and frantically called an ambulance."

After processing the information in shock, she nodded and joked, "Those little bitches in the South District are probably so heartbroken they can't even smoke Canadian cigarettes anymore."

He nodded in agreement, saying, "I'm afraid it's more than that. After that incident came to light, Thomson's family sent him straight back to his hometown, where he lived."

"Oh? Alabama?" She raised an eyebrow, and after he nodded in confirmation, she couldn't help but burst out laughing. "Haha, is this the kind of guy you're planning to raise into a hero father who marries his cousin, spends all his time on the sofa watching lowbrow shows, and mass-produces mutants?"

He shrugged and joked, "That's the kind of country bumpkin logic the Bible brings—incest can be excused by Adam and Eve, after all, our ancestors did it, and the fools born are considered 'holy fools,' God's precious treasures; but homosexuality can't be excused, not only does it extinguish the family line, but God might personally 'descend the Holy Spirit' one day, and you'd have to run back to heaven clutching your butt."

"Jesus! Haha! Confirmed! Alright! Mr. Smith! Let's continue our little game..."

"Yes, Ms. Smith!"

John suddenly reached his hand out from under the blanket, grabbed the roll of paper from the bedside table, and then went back under the blanket. Listening to the noises from next door, his face began to show excitement.