I bought a prison in the United States.

The following morning, at McLean Orthodontic Center, in Ringo's office.

Order confirmation letters from General Motors and General Electric are neatly arranged on the table, along with mold delivery notices from equipment leasing companies.

The Tulsa World article that ignited public opinion across the state was laid flat in the center of the table.

Lingo read the entire report twice from beginning to end, without missing a single word, and even savored the details he had already seen in Gloria's first draft.

"Hmph hmph hmph~"

The clear laughter echoed in the empty office, quickly drowned out by the footsteps of the prison guards changing shifts in the corridor.

"A word of advice."

Just then, the office phone rang suddenly.

After the call connected, a hurried voice came from the receiver:

"Warden Chen, I'm a reporter from The Oklahoma City News. We've read Ms. Gloria's exclusive feature article, and it's very insightful."

"We'd like to conduct an in-depth interview with you to learn more about the prison's point system and security system upgrades. Are you available this week?"

Ringo switched the receiver to his hand with one hand, picked up a pen, and wrote "The Oklahoma City Journal" on a sticky note.

He replied calmly and respectfully:

"Our prison has strict security. When we receive external media, we need to arrange for prison guards to work overtime and set up security plans, which will incur administrative costs."

"Interview fees are calculated based on duration and depth, ranging from $20,000 to $50,000 per interview. Would you accept that?"

The other end of the phone went silent instantly, with the faint sounds of the reporter and editor-in-chief discussing something in hushed tones.

After a moment, the reporter spoke again, his tone solemn:

"We are willing to accept $50,000."

"Our editor-in-chief is personally leading a team to produce a three-part series of special reports. We need to interview you personally, as well as several prisoners who received sentence reductions based on a points-based system. Is this feasible?"

Lin Ge drew a circle around the characters, clean and crisp:

"Sure, but my schedule is already full for this week. Please come with your check next Monday afternoon."

After hanging up the phone, the pen was still spinning on my fingertips when another call came in.

This time, a local Tulsa television station wanted to record a special program on private prison reform.

Following the same rules, Ringo settled on a $35,000 interview fee.

They also requested that the television station produce a public service announcement for the prison free of charge and broadcast it during prime-time evening news.

By 2 p.m., he had answered inquiries from eight media outlets and finalized four formal interview contracts.

A rough calculation shows that the four confirmed interview fees alone amount to nearly $150,000.

This unexpected income will not only settle the final payment for the prison gate replacement project, but also cover the entire budget for the fire escape repair.

The three rectification notices that Hammond had deliberately made things difficult for him were locked at the bottom of his drawer, and all the problems have now been solved.

Just then, Mrs. Martha pushed open the door and came in carrying a plate of freshly baked bread.

The bread in the foil-lined baking pan is golden brown, with a warm, buttery surface, and the aroma of sweet cornmeal wafts out with the steam.

"The bread smells really good today."

Lin Ge casually broke off a piece, and the heat made him gasp slightly.

Mrs. Martha stood with her hands on her hips, a broad smile on her face:

"This bread wasn't baked by me, it was baked by Randy."

"This kid has been learning in the kitchen with me for two weeks, and he's finally stopped confusing salt and sugar. If the taste suits your palate..."

"I understand."

Lin Ge replied with a smile:

"I'll approve the budget for you, let's go pick out a new oven today."

"Since Randy has a talent for cooking, you should put in more effort to teach him."

"Once he gains another level in points and his performance becomes more consistent, I will move him to a single cell, one that is closer to the kitchen."

Mrs. Martha was all smiles and was about to leave with light steps when Ringo called out to her.

"By the way, how many points does Randy have now?"

"Two hundred and thirty-seven points, second in the entire prison!"

Mrs. Martha answered readily:

"If he works hard for a while longer, he'll take all the top spots in both the factory and the kitchen."

Lin Ge smiled and nodded as he watched her leave, then flipped back to the back of the feature section.

The photo above was taken at the entrance of the factory. In the photo, 20 prisoners stand in two rows with smiles on their faces, as if working here is a very proud thing.

This is what Lin Ge told them to do. He screened some of them, and whoever smiled the most sincerely would get an extra 20 points.

He folded the newspaper, locked it in the drawer, and thought to himself that Hammond must be furious by now.

The first snowflakes fell slowly outside the window.

Snowflakes fell on the tin roof of the factory, and the rhythmic, powerful thuds of the stamping machines echoed throughout the factory.

Inside the high walls, all the machines were running at full speed, and every step was perfectly coordinated.

The snowflakes, blocked by the roof, never landed on the rapidly operating precision parts. This newly built prison remained vibrant and full of life.

……

Two days later, at the Tulsa Country Club golf course.

The early snow had melted, leaving only tiny water droplets among the withered leaves of the lawn.

In the cold winter wind, the oak trees on both sides had lost all their leaves, and the bare branches swayed gently under the gray sky.

The round table in the private room was still covered with a dark green tablecloth, but the usual whiskey and cigars were gone, replaced by two glasses of completely cold water, sitting quietly.

"Snapped!"

Hart sat opposite Hammond and slammed a newspaper down on the table.

Instead of using the delicate crystal decanter, he took out his portable flat liquor flask, unscrewed the cap, and gulped down a large mouthful of strong liquor.

"The quarterly audit of the purchasing committee has been moved up to next month!"

Hart's voice was hoarse and tired, full of helplessness:

"The accounts that were originally scheduled to be audited in March were moved up by four months. They will be able to spot the discrepancies in the accounts from half a month ago."

"What's worse is that the presiding judge has been changed; old Taylor has been replaced."

"The new guy is someone transferred from Oklahoma City, specifically to investigate cross-departmental procurement involving improper benefits!"

He stared at Hammond, his eyes filled with lingering fear:

"I only need to endure six more years to receive my full pension and retire comfortably. I can't afford to be investigated!"

"This is the clean safety net I've built up all my life. If I get involved, I'll be completely destitute in my old age, and I won't even be able to afford a nursing home!"

Hammond picked up the newspaper, glanced at it, and put it down casually, leaving the bowl of water in front of him untouched.

His stubble, unshaven for three days, formed a grayish-white patch on his chin, making him look haggard and gloomy. He had been trying to stabilize the situation these past few days.

"I have halted all surprise inspections, and all rectification notices have been withdrawn and filed by Tuesday."

"I will find out the auditor's background and the focus of the investigation through my acquaintances in the state."

"You must stay calm and not panic."

"Resigning on the eve of an audit is tantamount to telling everyone that you have something to hide, thus solidifying the suspicion."

Hart remained silent for a long time, the flask in his hand hovering in mid-air, his Adam's apple bobbing. All his unspoken words ultimately boiled down to a single word: compromise.

"Okay, I'll listen to you. I'll stay calm."

He stood up, the chair legs scraping against the tiled floor with a sharp, piercing sound.

"But let me make this clear: if I can't resolve this, I'll have to protect myself, and we'll go our separate ways."

The door slammed shut, cutting off their final conversation.

Hammond's face was as gloomy as if a downpour was about to begin.

"Damn it, Ringo Chen! You think you can take me down? You're dreaming!"

Hammond was, after all, a judge, and experience told him that since external means were being suppressed, he should try to address the issue from within.

Lin Ge is using prisoners as propaganda, so he can also use prisoners to destroy that prison!