Chapter 85: Forget the Source of Light; It’s Still Light
As Johnny exited Golden Diamond Law Firm, the city’s bright sunshine contrasted sharply with the darkness engulfing his world.
He was utterly dejected.
After paying the $260 consultation fee, he had less than $150 in cash left, and all his bank accounts were frozen. Worse yet, according to Mr. Gus, even the best-case outcome—where the court believed Johnny’s failure to report taxes was due to ignorance rather than intent—would still result in a hefty fine.
This wasn’t unique to him. Anyone in court for such issues faced the same outcome.
His bakery had been operating for years, and the tax office could penalize him for up to 10 or even 20 years of underreported taxes.
To prepare for what lay ahead, Johnny would need at least $3,000.
When he asked Mr. Gus what would happen if he couldn’t pay, the lawyer had been diplomatic but clear: misfortune awaited, including the loss of his freedom.
The sun couldn’t pierce the storm cloud over Johnny’s heart, nor could its warmth reach his freezing body. He wanted to escape, but there was nowhere to go.
Johnny gave her $50 every month, but she often spent it all—and sometimes even pilfered from the bakery’s earnings. A couple of dollars here and there went unnoticed by Johnny, and it kept her boyfriend around despite her less-than-desirable appearance.
Now, however, the situation wasn’t about a few missing dollars. They were staring down a gaping financial abyss of several thousand dollars.
Johnny looked out at the distant coastline, his lips trembling before he finally spoke the words he had been dreading. “We do have the house.”
His daughter opened her mouth as if to protest but said nothing. The house had always been promised to her—a place she could live in after marriage.
But now, that promise seemed unlikely to be fulfilled.
Johnny, despite his shortcomings, cared deeply for his daughter. Seeing her disheartened expression, he attempted to comfort her.
“Think of the positives,” he said. “The bakery still brings in a steady income every month, and the new officer isn’t charging us much in dues.
“Next week, I’ll try to negotiate with the gangs to lower our fees further. And we can always take out a loan.”
His daughter managed a weak smile. “Yeah, we can get a loan. Once we pay it off, the house will still be ours.”
Back at the bakery, her boyfriend was kneading dough vigorously, his sweat dripping into the flour—a special, albeit unappetizing, touch.
That evening, the intern lawyer recommended by Mr. Gus visited them. After collecting information and documents, he advised Johnny to prepare for fines, as the tax office would demand back taxes and penalties, which the court would likely support.
“If you can’t pay promptly, they’ll add interest,” the lawyer warned. “And it’s high.”
When Johnny asked what would happen if he couldn’t pay, the young lawyer, lacking tact, bluntly replied that the bank would auction off his assets—and he’d likely end up in jail. R̃áＮO͍₿Èș
The following morning, Johnny resolved to fight back. As long as the bakery stayed afloat, he believed he could recover.
He visited Broadcom Bank and sat before a loan manager, an older man with glasses. After reviewing Johnny’s application form and making two phone calls, the manager raised his eyebrows.
“Mr. Johnny, if you use your house as collateral, we can offer you $1,500.”
Johnny’s eyes widened. He had spent the entire night convincing himself to mortgage the house, and now he was being told it was worth so little?
“You’re sure you don’t mean $3,500 or $2,500?” he asked, barely containing his anger.
The manager shook his head. “It’s an old property. I checked with our partners, and the most recent sale in your area was for $3,000.
“If you default, we’d have to cover the costs of repossession and auctioning. At best, we might recover $2,200—and likely less.”
Johnny was furious. “But you’re only offering me $1,500!”
“That difference accounts for interest and our safety margin. We must protect our interests first, Mr. Johnny.
“We’re not a charity. If you want charity, go to a nonprofit. We’re a bank.”
Gathering Johnny’s papers into a folder, the manager added, “Feel free to consider other banks or financial companies.”
Seething, Johnny snatched the documents, glaring at the security guard outside. Swallowing his anger, he muttered, “This bloodsucking place—I’m never coming back.”
Johnny next tried Baihui Bank and Jincheng Bank.
Baihui’s loan manager offered $1,750—$250 more than Broadcom—citing similar reasons for the undervaluation. Still, Johnny found it unacceptable and moved on.
Jincheng Bank, a local institution backed by wealthy investors and state support, was slightly more generous.
After reviewing his documents, the manager said, “We can offer $1,800. This is the highest amount you’ll get in this city.”
“That’s still not enough,” Johnny grumbled.
The manager explained, “Mr. Johnny, if you can’t repay the loan, we’d need to sell the house to recover both the principal and interest. It would have to fetch at least $2,400.
“The area has seen only one sale in the past three months. To sell quickly, we’d likely list it below $3,000—and interested buyers wouldn’t pay full price.
“So, we’re not lowballing you; we’re being realistic.
“Look on the bright side—if the house sells for $5,000, the surplus will go to your account.”
Johnny found nothing amusing in this remark. “So $1,800 is the best offer?”
The manager nodded and began packing away the documents. “No one will offer more, except maybe a private finance company—but you know what you’d lose if you go to them.”
On his way home, a desperate idea crept into Johnny’s mind: why not sell the house outright?
At a local real estate agency, he expressed his intent to sell.
After inspecting the property, the agent said, “Your house isn’t bad. What’s your asking price?”
Johnny felt a flicker of hope. “How much do you think it’s worth?”
The agent thought for a moment. “If you’re not in a hurry, $2,600 would be a fair price.
“Some repairs are needed—flooring, wall paint, the exterior, and the roof. You’ll need to offer a competitive price.”
Johnny, already bracing himself, still found this hard to stomach. “I heard houses here sell for $3,500!”
The agent chuckled. “That was a newer house with better finishes.”
“And if I need to sell quickly?” Johnny asked.
“I could list it for $2,400.”
Johnny’s blood pressure spiked. His head swam, and he closed his eyes briefly. “You just sold a house here for $3,000!”
The agent maintained his disingenuous smile. “Spend $500 on renovations, and I guarantee you’ll get $3,000 too.”
Frustrated, Johnny returned home with his papers, unable to focus on anything. As he tossed and turned, a small card slipped out from somewhere:
Wanli Financial Consulting Company – Meeting All Your Needs!