Seeing the window tightly shut, Hong Wu finally breathed a sigh of relief, but still said with lingering fear: “Damn those people yelling all day about immigrating, immigrating, why immigrate to a place like this? Seeing people like that every day when going out, how can life be comfortable?”
Chen Zekai laughed: “Hong Wu, don’t think that although Australia is in the southern hemisphere, its overall structure is still that of the lower strata of Western society, their social structure is very divided; rich areas have everything good, good security, good environment, good schools, even some backed by mountains and facing water, every home with a dock, yachts, police practically setting up a community station right in the rich area, patrolling hundreds of times a day to ensure the rich’s safety.”
“But poor areas have everything bad, and even their local governments like to bully the poor; they set up these politically correct safe injection sites, always placing them in communities where the poor or ordinary people live, making their living environment even worse, and they dare not make any modifications to rich areas without the owners’ permission.”
“So, those top domestic tycoons immigrating to enjoy the extravagant decay of capitalist society is understandable, but the middle class exhausting everything to come as blue-collar workers, mixing in the lower middle strata of society, is really a bit incomprehensible.”
Hong Wu nodded: “Rich people are upper class anywhere; what I don’t understand is what President Chen said, those who sell off their assets to go abroad as blue-collar workers; I have an old friend who back then in China did aluminium alloy doors and windows business, somewhat better off than the bottom but not the top, yet somehow got persuaded, insisted on bringing the whole family to immigrate, ended up in America working as a renovation worker for a Chinese foreman, and did it for over ten years.”
Ye Chen laughed: “Those are the ones duped by immigration companies; you have to know, immigration companies are like legal snakeheads, just like real snakeheads, their business is sending people out of the country; they first paint a picture of how great the outside world is, making people want to go, then to leave, they pay large sums of money; they can never earn from top tycoons, because top tycoons know better than the immigration company bosses what it’s really like outside, impossible to dupe them, and their target group is those who lack understanding of the outside but always think the moon is rounder abroad; these people might have only a few hundred thousand in assets, and the immigration company takes half; to the immigration company, whether these people survive abroad doesn’t matter, as long as they make money.”
Hong Wu nodded thoughtfully: “Some people know it will harm others, but for money they spare no scruples, truly heartless!”
Chen Zekai could not help laughing: “Hong Wu, this isn’t your style; I remember back in Jinling you didn’t do little of this yourself; wasn’t there a guy called Zhou Huaxin who specialised in P2P finance, promising high interest to dupe old folks, then laundering the money, making it into investment losses; behind him it was you propping him up, right? How many old folks’ lifelong savings went down the drain.”
As soon as Hong Wu heard him mention this, his old face flushed to the neck, and he hurriedly said: “President Chen, you don’t understand the situation; back then it wasn’t like that, it was that dog Zhou Huaxin who started a P2P company himself and actively sought me to invest, didn’t tell me what business exactly, just said he could give me some shares and dividends, just needed me to help smooth things over; how would I know he was doing that kind of business, and after Master Ye found me that time, I never participated again…”
Ye Chen smiled: “Everyone has times they take the wrong path; knowing and correcting is the best; Old Chen, no need to dredge up his old accounts.”
Chen Zekai chuckled: “Young Master is right, I was just teasing him to see his reaction.”
Hong Wu wiped his cold sweat: “That time was thanks to Master Ye pulling me back from the brink in time, otherwise it would definitely have led to a big mistake…”
Ye Chen smiled without speaking, his gaze turning to a house by the roadside not far away; the door of that house suddenly opened, and an eighteen or nineteen-year-old young boy, carrying a baseball bat, walked out.
Ye Chen glanced at the black-and-white ID photo on the printed information and said: “That kid is the ringleader, Bruce Brown.”
Just as he spoke, this Bruce Brown whistled a few times by the roadside, and several houses nearby immediately had several boys a few years younger walk out one after another.
Ye Chen laughed: “Oh, the boss whistles once, and all the little minions assemble; Old Chen, drive and follow, see what they’re up to!”
