I searched and fought in America.

Chapter 132 The Latin Kingdom

When Rosen got home, it was already 10 p.m.

He took off his shoes, didn't turn on the light, and groped his way into the bedroom, collapsing onto the bed.

He was thinking about tomorrow.

Tomorrow night, in the Latin Kingdom.

He turned over and faced the window.

He remembered the phone call he'd made last time Weiss stood him up. It was Morris who made that call; he hadn't heard Weiss's reaction on the other end, but he could imagine it.

That person was ruthless and arrogant. He was stood up by someone he looked down on, and he probably felt like killing someone.

But he still came. He still made the appointment, still booked a private room, and still waited patiently at the Hilton. Not because he kept his word, but because he needed this negotiation. Rosen had investigated. The Latin Kingdom was in turmoil lately. Something had happened on the Gunhorn neighborhood line; apparently, the goods were intercepted, and the people were missing. Weiss hadn't reported it, intending to handle it himself. He needed help. Not just any thug picked up from the street, but someone with brains, ability, and the composure to sit at the negotiating table. So he came to Rosen. Not because he wanted to, but because he had to.

Rosen closed his eyes.

Weiss would be late. He was almost certain. Not because he was busy, but because he wanted to keep Rosen waiting. To have Rosen sit in the box, sipping tea, checking his watch, looking at the door, looking out the window. The longer he waited, the more uncertain he'd feel. And uncertainty made it easier to concede during negotiations. It was an old trick. He'd seen it a hundred times on the street.

But he wouldn't let Weiss succeed. He had already arranged for Maurice to have men waiting outside. He knew exactly when Weiss would arrive. He didn't need to sit idly in the box. He could do his own thing, look at his own documents, and make his own phone calls.

He'd go over after Weiss arrived. The timing was perfect, neither too early nor too late.

Rosen rolled over and pulled the blanket over himself. He could worry about tomorrow tomorrow. Right now, he needed to sleep.

He closed his eyes. Those things were still swirling in his mind—Cameron's face, the book that appeared out of nowhere, the pale golden light that pierced his brow. Those things were too heavy to think about before sleep. He took a deep breath, pressing those images down one by one, like turning off lamps one by one. When the last lamp went out, he fell asleep.

Thursday, 6:55 p.m., Hilton Hotel, private room.

Rosen sat on the sofa, with wine and fruit on the table in front of him, but no one touched the fruit or drank the wine. He glanced at his watch.

It's 6:56.

He arrived an hour early.

Caesar stood behind him, wearing a black suit, his face grim, looking like a volcano about to erupt.

"Father," he said in a low voice, but his anger was barely concealed, "they won't come, will they?"

Rosen picked up the teapot, poured himself a cup of tea, and the tea flowed from the spout, steaming hot.

"Four minutes left."

Caesar puffed out his cheeks but said nothing more.

Gabak stood in the doorway, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. His left shoulder was still wrapped in bandages. His complexion was better than Caesar's, but his brows were furrowed, and his gaze kept drifting towards the corridor.

Six fifty-eight.

6:59.

It's exactly 7 o'clock.

There were no footsteps in the corridor, no sound from the elevator, and the intercom was completely silent.

Caesar took a deep breath and was about to say something when Rosen raised his hand to stop him. He didn't look at his watch, but simply picked up his teacup and took a sip.

The tea was no longer hot; it was lukewarm, just right for drinking.

7:03.

7:05.

7:08.

Caesar clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white. Gabak straightened up from the wall, his hand on the walkie-talkie at his waist. Rosen put down his teacup and glanced at his watch.

That's about it. He had given advance notice of the rescheduling, so even if the other party wasn't happy, logically speaking, he hadn't lost out in any way.

To be polite, he arrived an hour early. Now, after waiting for a full eight minutes, he had already fulfilled his courtesy and no longer needed to give the other party any face.

He stood up, straightened his collar, and said, "Let's go."

Caesar paused for a moment, then grinned, revealing a hearty smile; he had wanted to leave for a long time.

Just as Gabak's hand touched the doorknob, the intercom rang. "Father, they're here. They're in the elevator. There are four of them."

The door opened.

Weiss stood in the doorway, dressed in casual clothes and wearing sunglasses that covered half of his face. The corners of his mouth were slightly upturned, as if he were watching a good show.

His gaze swept around the private room, landing on Rosen. He then deliberately paused for a moment, raising his voice a few octaves, "Oh, isn't this busy Rosen? It's quite a surprise to see you here."

His tone carried a deliberately exaggerated surprise. Behind him stood three people, all familiar faces from the Latin Kingdom.

Big Gold Tooth stood at the very back, a mocking smile playing on his lips.

Rosen looked at him without saying a word; he simply raised his hand and tapped his watch with his finger.

The meaning is quite clear.

You are late.

Weiss saw the action. His smile didn't change, but the corners of his mouth drooped slightly. He pushed his sunglasses up to his forehead, revealing his gloomy eyes.

"Brother," he said slowly, enunciating each word clearly, "you were the one who stood me up first. What, you're allowed to stand others up, but others aren't allowed to stand you up?"

Rosen leaned back on the sofa, looking relaxed. "That time it was an emergency, and I notified you in advance. It doesn't count as standing you up."

But you, you made me wait eight minutes without even a phone call. I don't feel any sincerity from you.

Weiss's smile froze for a moment; he was about to say something...

Rosen stood up abruptly and walked toward the door. Caesar stepped aside, and Gabbakla opened the door.

Weiss's expression changed. He hadn't expected Rosen to actually leave. He thought the other man would argue with him and try to bargain with him.

"Wait," Weiss's voice came from behind.

Rosen stopped walking without turning around.

Weiss forced a smile. "Just kidding, bro. It's not that serious, is it?"

Rosen turned his head and glanced at him sideways. He didn't say anything, but the corner of his mouth curled up slightly.

Caesar took a step forward, his two-and-a-half-meter frame towering over Weiss. "Not keeping the agreed time is no joke. If you still want to discuss cooperation..."

He paused.

"Apologize."

There was a moment of silence in the private room. The man with the gold tooth behind Weiss took a step forward, his hand on the handle of the gun at his waist. The burly man next to him also moved, preparing to draw his gun.

Caesar didn't move. He narrowed his eyes slightly and put his hand on his waist. Gabak walked over from the door and stood next to Caesar, his right hand in his pocket.

Neither side drew their guns, but the atmosphere was tense.

Weiss looked at Caesar, then at Rosen, and the smile on his lips finally disappeared, his face darkening.

His men were waiting for his signal; they would act as soon as he nodded or simply did not object.

He was silent for three seconds, but Rosen wasn't going to push the other party too hard.

He had achieved his goal: without dampening the other side's arrogance, the negotiations simply couldn't continue, and he was certain the other side wouldn't easily botch the negotiations.

He's already consulted with people, and Weiss is currently in a real mess!

"Alright, Caesar, no one is perfect. I believe Mr. Weiss didn't arrive late on purpose; something must have delayed him."

He turned to look at Weiss, a gentle smile playing on his lips, like someone smoothing things over for a friend. "Don't you think so, Mr. Weiss?"

Weiss looked at him. Although the other man seemed to be trying to smooth things over, what he said made him feel quite uncomfortable.

Normally, he doesn't care whether the other party tries to smooth things over or not; if he's even slightly unhappy, he'll turn on them without hesitation.

However, he does need this negotiation now.

That line went wrong, the goods were intercepted, and the people were gone. Before the higher-ups find out, he has to sort things out himself as soon as possible.

He needed a new shipping channel, but opening it up wasn't easy, and Rosen just happened to be able to help him.

"Yes, yes," Weiss's voice was forced out through clenched teeth. He smiled, a smile more painful than a grimace.