Gangster heir? Please call me a legitimate entrepreneur.

The abandoned No. 1 warehouse of Sihai Construction in the western suburbs of Longhai City.

Seven or eight high-wattage searchlights shone blindingly on the rusty tin shed.

The air was thick with a strong, musty smell of sweat.

It also had a pungent smell from cheap air freshener.

Hundreds of unlicensed taxi drivers who used to run rampant at the train station are now lined up in six square formations.

"Stand up straight! Get your back straight!"

Lei Hu was shirtless, with a large red and white plastic megaphone hanging around his neck.

His loud voice made dust fall straight down from the ceiling.

He clutched a red-covered copy of the Labor Law in his hand, and fine white sweat trickled down his shiny bald head.

"Biaozi! I'm talking to you! What are you doing sticking your butt out like that?"

Lei Hu strode over.

He kicked the old Santana door, making a dull thud.

Brother Biao was so frightened that he quickly pulled his protruding buttocks back in.

He was wearing a cheap white shirt that was two sizes too small.

It tightened the fabric, leaving visible lines on the fat around my stomach.

The top buckle around his neck made him roll his eyes, and his hands trembled as he put on a pair of snow-white gloves.

The edge of the glove still had some black engine oil stains from when I was fixing the tire.

"Tiger, Tiger... these clothes are too tight, I can't breathe!"

Brother Biao wiped the sweat from his face, and his lips twitched habitually.

He instinctively reached for the betel nuts in his pocket, but found nothing.

On the first day of their arrival at the camp, Lei Hu burned all the cigarettes and betel nuts on their bodies.

"Can't breathe?"

Lei Hu shoved the horn right in front of Biao Ge's face and pressed the switch.

"Sizzle—We at Sihai demand high-end service! Do you understand what high-end means?!"

Beside him, Zhou Ming, dressed in an oversized black suit, rushed out carrying a rag.

He was covered in cold sweat, and his movements were so fast they left afterimages.

In just a few strokes, I polished the Santana's rearview mirror until it shone brightly.

"Tiger is right! In the service industry, attitude is paramount!"

Zhou Ming gave a perfect 90-degree bow, and his lower back cracked with a "crack".

"Watch me! You have to bend your waist properly! Not even one degree less!"

Brother Biao swallowed hard, looking at the overly sensitive customer service manager.

This isn't training; it's like putting an eagle to a hard time.

"Get on the bus! Practical training!" Lei Hu suddenly waved the red book in his hand.

Hundreds of drivers, as if struck by lightning, scrambled and crawled into their beat-up cars.

The sound of the metal door opening and closing echoed throughout the room.

Brother Biao pulled open the car door and sat down in the driver's seat, which was scorching hot from the sun.

There was a knock on the passenger-side window.

Kim Jong-un was carrying an 80-pound demolition sledgehammer, his fat pressed against the car window.

He was panting heavily, his small eyes fixed on the inside of the car.

"Music...play music," Sanpang mumbled in a gruff voice.

Brother Biao's calves immediately cramped, and his fingers trembled as he tried to turn the radio knob.

He usually plays deafening, frenetic dance music in his car.

just now.

"Ding-dong~ Ding~"

A soothing and gentle piano piece, "Für Elise," drifted out from the broken speaker.

The speaker was a bit leaky, and the high frequencies were off, making it sound indescribably eerie.

"Big brother... is this... is this piece alright?" Brother Biao stammered.

Sanpang scratched the back of his head, picked up the hammer, and took a half step back.

"It's alright. I don't understand it, but the boss said it can calm the nerves."

On the wire mesh passageway on the second floor of the warehouse.

Su Ye leaned against the rusty railing, the gold-rimmed glasses on his nose reflecting a cold light.

He unscrewed the chipped stainless steel thermos in his hand.

The steam rose in wisps, carrying a hint of the sweetness of red dates.

"Not bad, about seven days of training should be enough."

Su Ye took a sip of warm water, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down, his tone flat and indifferent.

Shen Qinghan, standing behind him, was clutching a folder tightly in her hand.

My flat canvas shoes were pressing against the metal plate, and my toes were almost curling up.

She looked at the magical scene below.

Hundreds of rough men with muscular faces and tattoos of ribbonfish and tigers descending from the mountain.

Wearing a tight white shirt and white gloves, he sat in a dilapidated taxi.

Accompanied by the distorted rendition of "Für Elise" from a cheap speaker, each student practiced smiling with flushed faces.

If this scene gets out, the underworld in Longhai City will burst out laughing.

But Shen Qinghan couldn't laugh. She only felt a chill run down her spine.

[Director Li, they are conducting closed-door brainwashing in the abandoned warehouse.]

Shen Qinghan had her left hand in her coat pocket and was typing on her phone without looking.

[All staff in uniform, playing soft music to mask noise – this is definitely anti-counterfeiting training for international shipping! Requesting instructions!]

She bit her lower lip and pressed the send button.

"Secretary Shen."

Su Ye turned around, and a gentle breeze stirred up the hem of his coat.

"Go and notify the legal department to prepare the employment contracts for this group of people, and to pay the social insurance and housing fund contributions according to regulations."

Shen Qinghan froze. Her finger trembled, and she almost dropped her phone into her bag.

"Pay...the five social insurances and one housing fund? In full?" She couldn't help but interject.

"What else?" Su Ye closed the thermos with a crisp sound.

"We are a legitimate business and do not exploit low-level workers. Besides..."

He pushed up his glasses, a calculating glint in his eyes.

"How can Yu Li Bao's capital pool expand if he doesn't tie them to his ship of global influence?"

Suddenly, Lei Hu's furious roar came from downstairs.

"Laugh! Smile sweeter! Show me eight teeth!"

Brother Biao stood by the car door, his hands pressed against the seams of his pants.

He forced out a smile that looked worse than crying.

"Brother Tiger, I...I have a facial cramp." Brother Biao's voice trembled with tears.

"A muscle cramp? Let me loosen your bones!"

Lei Hu rolled up his sleeves and strode over.

Su Ye glanced at the mechanical watch on his wrist, then turned and walked towards the metal staircase.

"Back to headquarters, Chen Suan should have finished running the system."

The leather shoes made a loud "thump-thump" sound as they stepped on the metal plate.

Shen Qinghan quickly followed, bending down to take notes rapidly.

In front of the Maybach.

Su Ye had just opened the car door when he stopped.

"Secretary Shen, what do you think would happen if the city's taxis went on strike tomorrow...?"

Su Ye tapped lightly on the car window with his fingers, the sound was not loud.

"Can our few hundred ride-hailing cars, all dressed in white shirts, capture the market?"

Shen Qinghan's breath hitched.

A taxi strike? How did he know there was going to be a taxi strike?!

In the past two days, the transportation bureau has been cracking down on illegal activities, and traditional car companies have been secretly organizing to protest.

This is top secret information from within the Municipal Public Security Bureau!

She forced a smile, suppressing her wildly beating heart.

"With the chairman's strategic planning, we can definitely succeed."

The Maybach slowly drove out of the abandoned warehouse.

A cacophony of roars followed.

Municipal Bureau Building.

Li Jianguo stared blankly at his phone screen.

"Anti-counterfeiting training...using classical music as a cover?"

He irritably threw the cigarette on the table and rubbed his face.

The water in the chipped teacup had long since gone cold.

Captain Gu stood to the side, his eyes bloodshot from exhaustion.

He subconsciously touched the holster on his waist, his molars grinding together.

"Chief, we've investigated. Su Ye ordered a thousand white shirts for the unlicensed taxi driver, and paid the taxes precisely."

"Paying taxes?! It's taxes again!"

Li Jianguo slammed his hand on the table, causing the teacup lid to fall to the ground.

"What's in it for him! A gangster, paying social security and housing fund contributions for low-level thugs?!"

Captain Gu swallowed hard, his voice slightly unsteady.

"According to internal reports, taxi drivers across the city may stage a strike tomorrow..."

Li Jianguo was stunned.

My blood pressure shot up to the back of my head like a rocket.

He slumped into a chair, his finger trembling as he pointed out the window.

"This kid...got wind of it beforehand?!"

He was panting heavily, feeling his heart pounding.

"He's trying to take advantage of the chaos and legally seize control of vital transportation routes!"

The next morning. On the streets of Longhai City.

Underneath the bus stop sign during the morning rush hour, anxious commuters were crowded together, glancing at their watches.

An old Santana was parked on the side of the road.

Wearing a crisp white shirt, Brother Biao quickly walked around to the back row.

He opened the car door with one hand and placed the other hand on the roof of the car.

The waist bends at a perfect ninety degrees.

"Hello! Sihai Travel is dedicated to serving you!"

The loud voice startled the white-collar worker who was about to get on the bus.

The white-collar worker sat in the car, looking bewildered.

There was no smell of smoke in the carriage, and the broken radio was playing a leaky rendition of "Für Elise".

Brother Biao sat back in the driver's seat and gripped the steering wheel with both hands.

Squeeze out a standard smile that shows eight teeth.

"Boss, where are we going? I know the roads well."

The white-collar worker swallowed hard. "High-tech park."

"Alright! Buckle up and fasten your seatbelt."

The car started smoothly.

The top floor of the Sihai Group headquarters.

Chen Suan had dark circles under his eyes and his legs felt weak.

He clutched his churning stomach and scrolled through his tablet.

"Chairman..."

Chen Suan pushed up his slipping black-rimmed glasses, his voice dry.

"Yu Libao's interface has been connected."

Su Ye held the thermos cup and blew on the plump goji berries to open them.

"How's the data?"

"It exploded."

Chen Suan's eyes twitched, his gaze as if he were looking at a monster.

"When those drivers heard there was interest, they deposited all their savings into their current accounts, and in just one hour, they made over 30 million..."

Su Ye put down the thermos, his gaze calm.

"This is just the beginning."

Suddenly, there was a rapid knocking on the door.

Zhang Tiezhu pushed open the door, his buzz cut covered in a fine layer of sweat.

He instinctively stood at attention like a special police officer, his tongue almost unable to flow properly.

"Boss! I just got a call from the front desk..."

Su Ye looked up. "What happened?"

Zhang Tiezhu swallowed hard, his voice trembling with panic.

"There's someone claiming to be from a joint working group of the four major banks..."

"They accused us of illegally accepting deposits, and they brought economic crime investigators and blocked the front desk downstairs!"