I bought a prison in the United States.

Lin Ge put the invitation in his pocket and left the room.

In the hallway, Betty was squatting at the door of room number three, holding a screwdriver in her hand.

She was wearing a faded pink loungewear, her hair was casually clipped back with a plastic clip, and a few stray strands fell across her forehead.

The door hinges in front of her had been disassembled, revealing rusty metal parts inside.

"Didn't you say you'd fix it tomorrow?"

Lin Ge walked over, squatted down, and looked at the work in her hands.

"I was referring to something in general; I mean I'll fix it sooner or later, but not today."

Without looking up, Betty inserted the screwdriver into the gap of the hinge and pried it open.

"Ding!"

A piece of rusted iron splintered out, bounced twice on the floor, and rolled to Lingo's feet.

"See? This thing should have been replaced three years ago. My ex-husband said he would replace it, but then he left."

"I asked Roger if he wanted it fixed, but he didn't know how, so I had to do it myself."

She gathered the rust scraps she had cleaned from the hinge into a pile and used a screwdriver to push them into an empty coffee can.

His movements were as practiced as a car mechanic's.

Lin Ge stroked his chin and suggested:

"Otherwise, I'll find an inmate in prison who knows how to fix doors to come and fix it for you."

"Bring prisoners to my hotel? No way, absolutely not!"

Betty refused outright, then installed the new hinge plate and began tightening the screws.

After she tightened the last screw, she stood up and pushed the door.

The door opened silently and closed silently.

Betty looked at the now-sounding door, her expression not one of satisfaction, but of emptiness.

It's like you've spent years preparing for a war, but when the war is finally over, you don't know where to put your weapons.

"alright."

She tossed the screwdriver into the toolbox and dusted off her hands.

"The first promise in three years has been kept, although it wasn't him who kept it."

Ringo stood up, ready to leave, and Betty glanced at him.

"Are you dressed like that on a blind date?"

"I went to attend the Chamber of Commerce's annual meeting. I am, after all, a business owner, even if I went bankrupt."

"Is it the Mayo Hotel?!"

Betty whistled.

"That's the most respectable place in Tulsa, where the oil company tycoons and bankers drink."

"You call yourself a business owner? And that outfit you're wearing..."

She looked him up and down, but didn't finish her sentence.

"I know, like a clearance sale at a secondhand store."

Lin Ge dusted off the lint balls on his clothes.

"That's what's left after the secondhand stores cleared out their stock three times!"

Betty added without mincing words.

"But you're already bankrupt, so it would look strange if you dressed too nicely."

"Let them know you're poor, and they'll think you're honest; that's Tulsa's logic."

She turned and walked back to the front desk, took out a thick yellowed book about the size of a phone book from behind the counter, flipped to a certain page, tore it off, and handed it to Lin Ge.

"What is this?"

Lin Ge asked curiously.

"The Tulsa Chamber of Commerce membership list, from last year."

"It contains the name, company, and phone number of each member."

"My ex-husband once wanted to join the Chamber of Commerce, but he gave up because he found the membership fee was too expensive."

"But he would make one of these every year and put it at the front desk, pretending that he was one of them. Later, I also developed this habit."

"You're not famous right now, so no one will come to you to do business. You'll have to take the initiative."

"That's all I can do for you. The rest depends on whether you can sell yourself."

Lin Ge took the paper, which was densely printed with hundreds of names, arranged by industry.

Oil and gas, construction and real estate, banking and finance, manufacturing, retail, legal services...

Each name is followed by a company name and a phone number.

He looked up at Betty.

This woman, who had been sitting at the front desk of a run-down motel for almost ten years, had hair that looked like a bird's nest.

But what she gave him was more valuable than any business card he could get at the Chamber of Commerce today.

"Ms. Betty."

"Um?"

"When I have money, I'll make up for the Florida trip your ex-husband owes you."

Betty paused for a moment, then burst out laughing.

The laughter came from his nose, just like when Mrs. Martha heard Ringo offer her a job as a purchasing agent in the kitchen.

"Let's pay Ray Carson back first, dear Chen."

"You're still a long way from Florida."

She went back to the front desk, turned on the TV, and saw the morning news playing.

A female news anchor with her hair in a high bun is reporting the date of the Reagan-Mondale campaign debate in a sweet voice.

On the screen, Reagan is waving and smiling broadly, because he is a man who has never understood what "bankruptcy" means.

Ringo walked out of the Bluebird Motel.

The concrete surface of the parking lot was still wet from last night's rain, with several shallow puddles forming in the low-lying areas.

The puddle reflected the sky and a Ford F-150 pickup truck, with several hastily repaired scratches on the body, the color of which didn't quite match the original paint.

Sooner or later, when he's really rich, he'll change his car.

He opened the car door and got in.

The steering wheel was chilly from the morning air, and the crack in the seat that had been patched up with tape seemed to have split open a little more, revealing a small patch of yellow sponge.

He inserted the key into the ignition switch, the engine coughed three times, and then shuddered and came to life.

The radio turned on automatically and was playing a song by Willie Nelson; the car radio was severely malfunctioning.

Lin Ge folded the list of chamber of commerce members, put it in the inside pocket of his suit, and then stepped on the gas.

……

The Mayo Hotel, located in downtown Tulsa, is an 18-story building completed in 1925. It was once the tallest building in Oklahoma.

Its name comes from its builders, the Mayo brothers.

Two businessmen who moved from Missouri built the hotel during the oil boom as a symbol of Tulsa’s transformation from a small town into an oil capital.

In the 1920s, the Mayo Hotel's banquet hall hosted countless weddings and celebratory dinners for oil tycoons.

Angels and clouds were painted on the dome of the hall, and crystal chandeliers hung from the four-story-high ceiling, illuminating the bewildered young faces of those who had become rich overnight.

The underground vault is said to have once held more cash than all the banks in Oklahoma combined.

Then came the oil recession.

The former tycoons either went bankrupt or moved away.

The Mayo Hotel was on the verge of bankruptcy in the 1970s. The crystal chandelier in the lobby was covered in dust, and the angels and clouds on the dome were blurred by water stains left by the leaking ceiling.

Until a few years ago, a group of local businessmen pooled their money to buy it, renovated it, and restored it to its former glory.