I bought a prison in the United States.

"My father wouldn't admit his stubbornness, but I know what he was thinking."

"Oil extraction is something gamblers do; the real money is made by selling tools to gamblers."

Underwood seems to be telling a story completely unrelated to the present:

"Now he knows he was wrong. During the oil slump in the 1950s, the speculators packed up and ran away."

"My father's equipment company also went bankrupt because all his customers were speculators. Once the customers left, all the accounts receivable became worthless."

"The most dangerous thing about doing business in this country is the asymmetry between your interests and those of your customers."

"You have to choose between customers and suppliers, but never be the one caught in the middle, because you won't gain the trust of either party."

After he finished speaking, he turned his gaze back to Lin Ge:

"Now I sit on the board of the Tulsa World in this city, which is essentially a continuation of what he said: keep information in your own hands and don't be a sucker who buys things on credit for others."

"What you just showed me was very novel—customers, middlemen, suppliers…you've got it all covered."

Underwood placed his cigar on the edge of the ashtray and leaned back in his chair.

The old leather chair let out a slight groan, as if protesting its owner's weight.

"Mr. Chen, I heard that your prison is installing a closed-circuit surveillance system?"

"Mr. Underwood's information network is indeed very efficient. Could he have planted an informant in my prison?"

Lin Ge picked up the cup of black tea that had gone cold from the coffee table, took a sip, and said half-jokingly.

Underwood smiled:

"The lawyer Eleanor you know used to work with me, and I learned all this from her."

"Not only that, she told me about your troubles, since there aren't many people capable of bringing down that judge for you."

After a moment of contemplation, Lin Ge said sincerely:

"It's practically true, but it's still in the research and development stage."

"Develop it yourself?"

Underwood raised his eyebrows slightly, and beneath those grayish-white brow ridges, his eyes narrowed.

"This isn't like building blocks, young man. A surveillance system involves so many things, and each part requires specialized personnel. Where did you find the engineers?"

"Among my prisoners are some."

Lin Ge put down his teacup and replied in a calm tone.

"Oh?"

Underwood was slightly surprised; the grayish-white layer above his head was gradually fading, revealing a bright underlying color.

Those were the colors that Lingo had learned to recognize in the past few days: "Interest".

Moreover, the concentration is not low.

"Let the prisoners develop the system for you?"

"Yes, there happen to be several engineers working in this field in my prison."

Underwood scanned Ringo from head to toe with a look that suggested he was re-evaluating the young man before him.

In the business world, most giants have accumulated their networks and resources over decades.

The older generation of businessmen spent half their lives building a network of relationships, bringing capable people to their side.

How long has this Chinese man been in Tulsa?

Less than two months.

He had no connections, was not from a family, and didn't even have a decent amount of start-up capital.

But ever since he bought that prison, he has had a group of capable people at his disposal.

This was a perspective he had never considered before: could prisoners be treated like laborers?

Underwood couldn't help but ask curiously:

Will you pay them their wages normally?

"Of course it will, and this money is not subject to federal taxes because it is below the tax threshold."

Ringo's composed answer only piqued Underwood's curiosity, and he pressed further:

"Are you sure? The federal tax threshold this year is $2100, and your prisoner doesn't even have that much?"

Lin Ge was speechless. The US tax threshold was a joke; $2100 a year...

Those with incomes below this level would have long been homeless and starving; how could they afford to pay taxes?

"Of course, after all, they are prisoners."

"I don't need to pay for this money; it's provided by the government. I'll allocate whatever amount they give me, as stipulated in the contract."

Underwood's smile deepened, his expression growing increasingly appreciative.

"Mr. Chen, I just said you were involved in three roles: customer, middleman, and supplier. Now I need to correct that. You were actually only involved in one."

"Which one?"

"Rule makers".

Underwood stood up and walked to the floor-standing radio in the corner.

His fingers flicked the knob, and a hissing static sound came from the radio, followed by an announcer broadcasting wheat futures prices in a standard accent.

"You've been setting your own rules from the very beginning."

"The points system is the rule, the technology research and development team is the rule, and using prison labor to make stamped parts is also the rule."

"Judge Hammond wanted to use his rules to pressure you, but he didn't expect you to jump off the track. That guy always misjudges things."

Underwood casually mentioned Hammond's name, and his tone was so nonchalant.

Although the chamber of commerce president was based in Tulsa, he was also very familiar with the power structure in neighboring McLean County, and he didn’t need to emphasize that he knew.

This composure is a demonstration of influence.

"Mr. Underwood, you've also heard about Judge Hammond's matter?"

"There are no secrets in Tulsa, and even fewer in a county of 20,000 people, Mr. Chen."

Underwood held the cigar under his nose and smelled it.

"Hamond served as a judge in McLean County for fifteen years, and his connections are indeed throughout the entire judicial system."

"But he has one weakness: he has never left McLean County."

"His power is limited to the county boundary; once that line is crossed, his word no longer applies."

He sat back down in his chair, leaning slightly forward, with his hands crossed on his knees.

This posture suddenly brought his aura to a heightened, transforming him from an old man telling a story into a powerful figure conveying important information.

"The Tulsa World is distributed throughout northeastern Oklahoma, with a daily print run of 160,000 copies."

"Our readers include members of parliament in the state capitol, civil servants in the state government office building, and decision-makers in every bank and company in Tulsa."

Underwood extended his right index finger and drew a circle in the air.

"Hamond can write whatever he wants on a county audit report."

"But only a few people could see that report."

"And a full-page report in the newspaper will be seen by at least 160,000 people."

"Of these 160,000 people, at least 4,000 have a voice on public affairs."

"They would write letters, make phone calls, or discuss it at the golf club."

"Once these people start talking about it, Hammond's audit report will become a piece of waste paper."