I bought a prison in the United States.

Mr. Danforth led Ringo through the crowd toward a group of middle-aged men standing slightly to the left of the center of the conference hall.

Their ties were dark in color, and their shirt cuffs showed faint signs of wear.

These details show that they are people who have actually worked in the factory, not just managers sitting in the office.

"Harvey is here."

"How have you been lately?"

They greeted Mr. Danforth with smiles, but only gave Ringo a cursory glance.

"Old folks, let me introduce you to someone."

"This is Ringo Chen, the owner of McLean County Correctional Center. He recently took over my order for stamping parts."

Mr. Danforth's introduction was brief and direct, without any embellishment.

He nodded to the group and then announced their names and companies one by one.

"Bill Morrison, Precision Tools Company."

"Tony Pascal, Tulsa Fasteners."

"Frank Cao, Zhongxi Valves."

Frank was the only Asian face in the group.

He was about fifty years old, wearing thick black-rimmed glasses, with short hair and graying temples. He wore a dark gray suit, the fabric of which was slightly better than others, but the style was equally conservative.

His surname "曹" is spelled "Chao"—not the "Cao" of mainland China, nor the "Cho" of Hong Kong, but the Taiwanese spelling.

In the American Midwest in 1984, an Asian manufacturing boss was a rare sight.

What's even more unusual is that he seems to get along naturally with other manufacturing bosses, neither overly enthusiastic nor deliberately low-key.

The way he stood there, the way he spoke, the way he listened—all conveyed a sense of ease that had been achieved through a long period of practice.

Lin Ge shook hands with the three people in turn.

Morrison's hands were as rough as sandpaper, with thick calluses on his palms.

Pascal's hands were stronger, but his skin was relatively smooth, suggesting he was more responsible for administration than actual operations.

Frank's hands were dry and steady, with a moderate grip, and were neither too long nor too short.

"Does your prison make stamped parts?"

Mr. Morrison’s voice had a heavy Oklahoma accent, and he pronounced “prison” as “pri-son”, adding an extra short syllable.

"That's a pretty fresh idea."

"My factory is east of Tulsa, and it's getting harder and harder to hire workers."

"Young people all want to go to big cities, and those who stay would rather work at gas stations than in factory workshops. Is the labor force stable where you are?"

When asked this question, Lin Ge simply told him:

"The prisoner has nowhere else to go."

Morrison paused for a moment, then burst into laughter.

"That's true, they really have nowhere else to go."

Mr. Pascal on the other side was also somewhat curious:

"Has your prisoner ever worked in stamping?"

He spoke more slowly than Morrison, with slight pauses between each word, as if he were thinking while speaking.

Lingo appeared composed, making his tone sound even more sincere:

"Most of them don't, but I have a former Lockheed mechanical engineer training them."

"The pass rate for trial orders was only 28% on the first day, but it has now increased to over 80%."

"Lockheed?"

Mr. Cao spoke fluent English from the moment he opened his mouth; his accent was almost nonexistent, a blend of Midwestern English and something from a distant past.

"How did he end up in your prison after he was released from Lockheed?"

Ringo briefly outlined Craig's crimes and spoke highly of him, highlighting his talents.

Frank nodded and didn't press the matter further.

Lin Ge saw that the emotional label above his head changed from "neutral" to "understanding".

The process by which a person goes from being a Lockheed engineer to a prisoner is certainly not simple, but he won't delve into it.

That understanding needs no explanation, because he himself must have seen similar stories.

Anyone who has lived in America long enough has seen similar stories.

A person falls from a height for some reason, but the reason is irrelevant; everyone only sees the result.

America is a country that allows you to rise quickly, and it's also a country that allows you to fall quickly.

The accelerations in these two directions are equal.

"You just said your prisoners can make stamped parts, so can they make valve parts?"

Frank resumed the business conversation.

"My company, Zhongxi Valves, mainly manufactures industrial valves, water supply systems, and oilfield valves."

"The orders involve a wide variety of parts, small batches, and high precision requirements. Regular outsourcing companies are not willing to take on these kinds of orders because the setup time is long and the profit margin is low."

"If your prisoner can accept a small-batch, multi-variety production model, I wouldn't mind giving you an order."

Lin Ge quickly did some mental calculations.

Small batches and multiple varieties mean frequent mold changes and machine adjustments, which in turn mean higher technical requirements and lower efficiency.

But it also means higher processing unit prices and more stable long-term cooperation!

This is a typical niche market strategy: abandoning mass-market standard parts and making special parts that large manufacturers are unwilling to make, using flexibility to gain profit margins.

"We can talk," Ringo said.

Frank took a business card out of his suit pocket and handed it to him.

The paper on the business cards is slightly thinner than Peterson's, but the printing is more refined.

"Zhongxi Valves" is located in the industrial area on the southwestern outskirts of Tulsa.

The business card has a small valve icon printed in the lower right corner; the lines are simple and the design is quite nice.

"Call me next week, and I'll show you the blueprints."

As Frank Cao said this, his gaze lingered on Ringo's face for a moment.

The look in his eyes wasn't like other people looking at his suit; it was something that only someone who had also struggled as a minority in America could recognize.

In Midwestern cities like Tulsa, there's an unwritten understanding among minority businesspeople.

They won't form an open alliance, but based on their similar bloodlines, they will have a kind of recognition based on shared experiences.

I know what you've been through, and you know what I've been through.

We don't need to talk about it.

But in certain subtle moments, it can make the conversation feel warmer than it appears on the surface.

Bill Morrison and Tony Pascal also handed over their business cards.

Lingo took the three business cards and, along with the one Peterson had given him earlier, put them into his inner suit pocket.

Four business cards.

It was less than he expected, but more than the zero he had received earlier.

One characteristic of capitalist social settings is that business cards are not returned based on the number you send out.

If you hand out your business cards to a hundred people, you might only get three back.

But what can actually be converted into business is often just one of these three cards!

The remaining ninety-seven polite refusals were all costs that had to be paid.