C8 A Ruffian Who Collected Protection Fees!

"It's tough finding work these days," the woman muttered to herself, "Even in a big city like Zoplus, jobs are scarce. It's never easy being away from home!"

Zachary offered a smile and kept pace with her.

The house was divided into several areas: a minuscule kitchen with a clay stove, a living room, three bedrooms, and a bathroom.

She led him to the bedroom at the far end. It was modest in size, about 20 square meters, with a wooden plank bed, a small wooden table roughly a square meter in size, an old-fashioned black-and-white TV from the last century, and a tiny wardrobe. That was it.

The woman's eyes sparkled as she enthusiastically showed him around. "What do you think, young man? It's no luxury hotel, but it's a place to call home, wouldn't you say?"

Zachary surveyed the room. He had noticed something on his way in—the floor here was tiled, unlike the bare concrete in the other rooms. The room also had a window that let in a decent amount of light. He nodded, "It's quite nice. A little cozy, but it's livable."

Seeing his reaction, she quickly added, "If you're happy with it, then settle in. You look like a student, right? My price is fair—just fifteen yuan a day."

Zachary frowned, deep in thought, his expression revealing his concern. "Auntie, to be frank, I'm low on funds and still looking for work. I might be here for a while. Is there any way we could make the rent a little cheaper?"

"You can't do fifteen yuan?" The woman was clearly surprised. She sighed, "I've put effort into this room. Tiled the floor, painted the walls. My own bedroom isn't as nice as this. Fifteen yuan is already a bargain."

Zachary knew she was right, but his budget was tight. He scratched the back of his head, looking embarrassed, "Auntie, I've only got a few hundred yuan on me. Without a job, I have no income at all. I'm really strapped for cash."

The woman sighed, her expression softening, "We all have our struggles, don't we? Since you're not just passing through... Let's say I drop it by five yuan? Ten yuan a day—can you swing that?"

"Alright, thank you so much, Auntie!" Zachary let out a sigh of relief. At ten dollars a day, he could definitely save a bit of money.

He promptly handed over three hundred dollars for a month's stay and carefully tucked away the rest of his cash. The woman's face lit up with a happy smile as she accepted the money—she had made a profit, after all.

Zachary quickly unpacked and took his suitcase into the bedroom. After arranging his things, he sat down on the bed to meditate.

But soon, his meditation was interrupted by odd coughing sounds coming from the next room. The coughing was sporadic and unsettling.

With a frown, Zachary jumped up and opened the door, calling out, "Auntie!"

The woman came running, looking worried. "What's the matter, young man?"

"Auntie, is someone sick? I heard coughing," Zachary asked, his concern evident.

The woman's face, once cheerful, suddenly turned somber. "It's my kid; he's sick."

"Your child is sick?" Zachary was startled. "Why haven't you taken him to the hospital?"

"We did, but the doctors can't do anything more!" The woman shook her head, her face etched with sorrow. "All our money's gone. The doctor said there's a problem with his heart and liver; he needs a transplant."

A transplant would cost at least several hundred thousand dollars—an astronomical amount for the woman.

Zachary's frown deepened. He was about to speak when several people abruptly entered the room.

The trio looked like troublemakers, the kind you'd cross the street to avoid.

"Hey, Mrs. Foster has a visitor, eh?" The ringleader, with his dyed yellow hair, strutted over to her, scrutinizing her.

The woman's complexion changed, and she quickly tried to placate Emilio. "Emilio, why are you here? He's not a guest; he's a relative of mine."

"Pah!" Yellow Haired scoffed. Pointing at Zachary, he said, "He doesn't look like any relative of yours. You think I didn't see him? He just dragged his luggage in to stay."

"Emilio, he's really not a guest here; he's my nephew from back home!" The woman's voice was tinged with panic as she positioned herself in front of Zachary.

"Quit your babbling!" Yellow Haired barked angrily. "You've got a guest, so hand over the protection money for this month, and do it quick!"

The woman's face fell. "I don't have any money."

"No money? You're trying to tell me the rent he paid isn't money? Stop lying to me!" Yellow Haired sneered. "Give me the money now! If you don't pay the protection fee, I'll wreck this place!"

"I really don't have any money," the woman insisted, shaking her head desperately.

"Stop saying you're broke!" Yellow Haired roared. He rushed at the woman, pushing her to the ground. He grabbed three hundred dollars from her, "You still have three hundred bucks, and you dare tell me you're broke!"

The woman became frantic, throwing herself at Yellow Haired's feet and begging, "Please give me the money back. My Kid is sick; he needs it for his treatment."

"Pah!" Yellow Haired kicked her away. "Three hundred dollars isn't enough for treatment! That sick child of yours, better off dead."

The woman burst into heart-wrenching sobs, clinging to his leg, "My Kid needs medicine, he won't survive without it. Please, I'm begging you to give the money back."

Impatient, Yellow Haired shoved her aside, "Get lost!"

Zachary quickly stepped forward to help the woman up, "Auntie, are you alright?"

She cried out loud, "That was the money for my Kid's treatment."

Yellow Haired snorted in disdain and turned to leave.

"Stop right there!" Zachary called out coldly.

Yellow Haired stopped in his tracks, eyeing Zachary with a sneer. "You want to interfere in other people's business?"

Zachary gritted his teeth, "Please return Mrs. Foster's money."

"You think I'm going to hand it over? Dream on!" Yellow Haired didn't take Zachary seriously at all.

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