Jack rolled his eyes. He wasn't someone who would make rash conclusions based on one-sided information. He wouldn't agree to such an arrangement so easily.
Although in his impression, Uncle Cage hadn't really played any serious villains—except in *Lord of War*—the current situation, though seemingly like an art film, still needed some verification.
As the saying goes, seeing is believing. Jack glanced back at the coffee shop once more. It appeared to still be open. After some quick mental calculations, he said to Dupri, "I need to confirm with my own eyes whether this Charlie is truly the rare good person you say he is and if, back when he decided to share the lottery winnings, he was really a complete stranger to that waitress."
Dupri shrugged. "You better hurry, then. Charlie's divorce case with his wife continues tomorrow at 9:30 AM in the state's Supreme Court, and there's a good chance the verdict will be announced on the spot."
Jack responded that even if the lawsuit was lost, it wouldn't be a big deal. Although he hadn't yet reached the wealth level where he could care for the whole world, the annual dividends from the trade company he co-owned with Chris, split fifty-fifty, nearly reached a million. That gave him plenty of confidence.
In most situations, he could still say with bravado, "If money can solve the problem, then it's not a problem, right?"
Moreover, as the so-called "Western Idea King"—no, the "Western Cheat King"—he definitely had the ability to help one or two ordinary people. The electric tricycle assembly plant he came up with was enough to support an entire town.
Today, the town of Magrev was thriving.
After bidding Dupri farewell, Jack bought a bag of oranges from a fruit stand in the park, strolled along the street for a while, then ducked into an alley full of homeless tents.
Half an hour later, when Jack emerged again, he was wearing a worn-out suit and dirty shoes. His face looked pale, with a scruffy beard, and he hunched over, looking like he hadn't eaten in three days.
Standing in front of a store's window, Jack flashed a foolish grin, revealing a set of yellow teeth. He now looked at least 40 years old.
This disguise technique was something he had learned while patrolling with Angela Lopez, later refined a bit during his time at the FBI Academy.
The old suit and shoes were exchanged with a homeless person in the alley for his clean clothes. The fake beard had been left by Dupri before leaving. As a journalist, it made sense for Dupri to have some simple disguise tools in his car.
As for the yellow teeth? They were stained with orange peel. The oranges were too sour, so after peeling them, he left the flesh for the homeless man.
The only flaw in his disguise was his overly neat buzz cut, but that was easily solved. As a thank-you gift for the oranges, the homeless man gave him a reasonably clean woolen hat.
Though the weather was already warm, making a woolen hat seem odd, Jack thought, "Who would care? He's just a homeless guy."
With his head tightly covered, Jack shuffled slowly toward the entrance of "Yvonne's Coffee Shop," as if unable to take another step. He peered through the large glass windows, looking longingly inside, seemingly drawn by the aroma.
"Hey, why not come in and sit for a while? There's an empty table here."
Suddenly, the glass door of the coffee shop swung open, revealing an incredibly beautiful face.
She had a classic oval face, a delicate and straight nose, and an elegant, smooth jawline. The most striking feature was her petite lips, always carrying a hint of a smile, exuding the charm of a classic European beauty.
Jack was momentarily stunned, quickly lowering his head. He nervously muttered in a hoarse voice, "Sorry, ma'am. I don't think I have enough money."
But the next moment, the dirty sleeve of his coat was gently tugged, and a clear, pleasant voice sounded in his ear.
"That's just a small problem, isn't it? I happen to have some extra soup and bread."
Before Jack knew it, he was led into the small coffee shop. In a corner near the window sat an empty table with a nameplate on it that read, "Charlie Lan's Table."
"No, I can't. This table is reserved, isn't it? If possible, just give me something to eat, and I'll eat outside," Jack said, staying in character.
"Oh, that's not what the reservation means." The beautiful woman smiled slightly, quickly explaining.
"Charlie is a kind gentleman. I named this table after him to offer free meals to customers like you."
She turned and soon brought out a steaming bowl of meat soup and some slices of bread.
"Thank you, kind lady. This is hardly what you'd call 'crumb' bread," Jack said, continuing to play his role, deliberately emphasizing the word "crumb."
"Ahaha, just call me Yvonne," Yvonne replied, picking up a knife and cutting the bread in half.
"Is this better?"
"Your kindness shines as brightly as your beauty, dear Yvonne." Jack bowed his head in sincere thanks.
"You're too kind," Yvonne said, smiling as she straightened the nameplate on the table. A faint trace of sadness flashed in her eyes.
"This person helped me during my darkest hour, so I want to share his kindness with more people."
She watched Jack gobble down the bread, then, still smiling, went off to attend to other customers.
Poor Jack had devoured four baskets of dumplings just two hours ago, and now he had to act as if he were starving again. After a few slices of bread, he nearly choked. He hastily gulped down two mouthfuls of soup to clear his throat, finally catching his breath.
Luckily, his unintended performance only made his act more convincing. When Yvonne returned after a round through the café, she casually asked, "How was the soup?"
"Uh, it's missing a bit of black pepper. The thyme and garlic are too overpowering—cut them by at least half. Also, the tomatoes this season aren't great, so I'd suggest adding more tomato paste for flavor."
After listening to Jack's rather ungrateful critique, Yvonne's slightly nearsighted eyes widened in surprise.
"Wow, are you sure? I thought my secret recipe was already perfect."
Muttering to herself, she picked up the soup bowl, saying, "Let's see what else can be done," and quickly headed for the kitchen.
Watching her leave, Jack covered his face, unable to bear it. It turns out that there really are women who remain kind and innocent even after turning 30.
——
Under Yvonne's hopeful gaze, Jack drank another full bowl of tomato beef soup, then shuffled his "weary" steps out of "Yvonne's Coffee Shop," feeling like he was going to explode.
As he turned the corner, he was greeted by a pair of teasing eyes.
"So, is this Jack Handsome's new technique for picking up girls?" Hannah stood with her arms crossed, eyeing the disheveled "homeless man" with amusement.
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