"HAHA! Head Instructor Gong, we're old acquaintances, you're too kind. Your presence here is honor enough. Forget the interest. As for the debt, I'll make an executive decision today—we'll convert it into chips for you to play with."
Uncle Kun laughed heartily.
Just as Ethan had anticipated, the casino never truly intended to collect that million dollars. It was, from the start, an internal power struggle, a conflict between Gwendolyn and Ethan.
Both The Boss and Uncle Kun were figures at the top. They naturally wouldn't involve themselves directly in a subordinate's feud over a mere million.
Grant Gong laughed loudly. "Uncle Kun, you're too generous! Then I gratefully accept!"
As a chime sounded, 7 PM arrived precisely.
Beautiful women in high-slit qipaos brought out a ceremonial banner. Solid gold scissors were presented on a tray to The Boss and Uncle Kun.
Other important figures invited by The Boss and Uncle Kun also gathered before the banner.
Ethan, Michael Langford, Serena, and the others all stood further back.
"Ethan, come here." Uncle Kun suddenly waved, signaling for Ethan to step forward.
This gesture surprised not only Ethan but also Michael and the others.
Ethan glanced at The Boss, who gave a slight nod, and only then did Ethan step up.
With the pop of confetti cannons and a shower of colorful scraps, the banner was cut. The casino's opening was officially complete.
Gwendolyn had arrived today with hostility, prepared with plenty of disparaging remarks about Ethan and ready to make a scene. However, Grant's repayment of the debt shattered all her plans. She could only sit at a table with Michael and play a few hands.
After The Boss and Uncle Kun left, Michael and his entourage departed soon after.
Ethan and Serena moved through the casino. The place was buzzing. The slot machines were nearly all occupied. Every table—Texas Hold'em, Baccarat, Blackjack, Three-Card Brag—was full.
The exclusive VIP rooms, where the stakes were higher, were also packed.
The entire hotel was fully booked. The top two floors were reserved exclusively for those who had gambled over ten million tonight. Ethan saw many attractive men and women heading upstairs.
The casino was opulent and brilliantly lit, with no clocks in sight. Without consciously checking a phone, it was easy to lose track of time.
Ethan found his duties weren't overly complicated. Coordinating the various departments wasn't difficult. Most credit approvals were processed jointly with Serena. He was learning how to assess a client's assets, verify the authenticity of their documents, and determine their ability to repay.
"Ethan, get ready. People are coming to pay their respects," Serena called out.
In a dedicated reception room within the casino, a crowd had gathered—men and women, the oldest in their fifties, the youngest in their late twenties. Ethan's youthful face stood out markedly.
When men in their thirties and forties proactively came to toast him, addressing him as "Brother Chen," Ethan fully understood what Wade had meant earlier. He had to get used to this, one way or another.
Serena introduced them to Ethan one by one.
Who was who, what business they were in, where their operations were located—all the bosses and key players running various establishments across the city, people with money and influence.
Learning their identities gave Ethan a profound understanding of the phrase "it's easy to relax in the shade of a great tree." Many of these people had struggled for years to attain their wealth and status, yet here they were, calling him "Brother Chen." All because he worked for The Boss.
By the time the formalities ended, it was past 1 AM. Both Ethan and Serena were quite drunk, clutching bottles, their eyes glazed over.
"Ethan, I have to admit, you're a man of real capability," Serena slurred, her eyes hazy with alcohol. "How on earth did you get Grant Gong to pay up?"
"Just reasoned with him," Ethan mumbled, leaning forward on the table, studying a uniquely shaped glass. Its facets refracted the light, making the scene before him blur into a kaleidoscope of colors.
Serena lit a slender cigarette and sat beside him, leaning back until her weight rested against his back. She took a deep drag and exhaled. "You little bastard, always full of surprises. I don't know what you said to Grant, but you must have hit his pressure point. I still remember in Zhao's collections room, when you told him you were actually sent by Michael to warn him. Honestly, I believed you."
She paused, then added, "Zhao believed it too, Ethan. If Zhao hadn't dropped that knife, and you hadn't broken free... what would you have done?"
"Don't know," Ethan said, feeling the weight of the woman against his back. Amidst the haze of alcohol and smoke, he could still catch the faint scent of her shampoo. "Played it by ear. If Zhao really bought it, I'd have stuck by his side."
Serena smiled, her eyes narrowing to slits. "So you'd have just left me to my fate, huh? Live or die, that's the idea."
Ethan didn't answer, continuing to fiddle with his glass.
"You have to admit, the survival instincts you've honed are perfectly suited for this world," Serena mused. "Ethan…"
"Yeah?"
"Do you think Michael… when he sent you, did he actually have the ulterior motive you suggested back then?"
Ethan spun the glass, watching the room twist into a swirling, colorful mess.
"I don't know Michael well enough."
A steady, even breathing sound reached him. Serena had fallen asleep.
Ethan slowly straightened up. Seeing the half-finished cigarette still held loosely in her hand, he thought about how she'd drunk tonight—heavily, refusing no toast, behaving with an uncharacteristic wildness.
It felt like a release, like someone finally letting go after being suppressed for too long.
The illegitimate daughter of Uncle Kun… her home environment might have been even worse than his. She'd infiltrated Jack Zhao's operation, biding her time. Now, managing this casino, she could finally hold her head high.
He left the room, locking the door behind him. Straightening his collar, Ethan sat back down in the casino. Some of the credit approvals could be handled by subordinates now.
Inside the casino, there was no distinction between day and night. Even at 4 or 5 AM, people still wandered in.
Ethan yawned and headed out of the gaming area.
Just as he rounded the marble screen wall, a man smiled and greeted him.
"Ethan Chen. Hello again."
The voice jolted Ethan to greater alertness. A somewhat burly middle-aged man stood before him, both arms in casts, surrounded by a few lackeys.
It was Jack "Two-Finger" Zhao.
"Spent a few days in the hospital. Lucky to be alive. The doctors said my physical condition saved me. Someone else probably wouldn't have made it."
Zhao stared intently at Ethan.
Ethan stared back.
Their eyes remained locked for a good ten seconds, neither yielding.
Just as Zhao was about to speak again—
Ethan suddenly smiled. "Good thing you didn't die. Otherwise, I'd be in real trouble."
Zhao grinned, a predatory flash of teeth. "And what if the reality is, me being alive is a much bigger problem for you?"