Within a partitioned room.

On the couch, a handsome, black-haired, middle-aged man held a small black notebook, examining it intently. Hearing the commotion, he didn't lift his head, allowing Dean to simply stand at the door.

Seeing this, Dean walked into the room, closed the door, sat down opposite the man, crossed his legs, pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and quietly puffed away without a word.

The cigarette burned past halfway.

The black-haired middle-aged man finally put down the small black notebook, frowned, and said, "You're very bold. I don't like the smell of smoke!"

Dean flicked the ash, chuckled, and said, "Mr. Saul Aston, my apologies. I'm not fond of cigars. Besides, are you struggling with family matters?"

"Oh?"

"The plate is only so big, yet, Mr. Saul Aston, you have to take care of both your family and your followers. That in itself isn't fatal. The crucial point is, Mr. Saul Aston, your followers struggle to integrate into mainstream United States society. If you cater to them excessively, it provides an easy pretext for attacks and becomes a fatal weakness. Yet, you must still make the appropriate gestures of support. Not doing so would be against the rules of the game. So, you're in quite a dilemma!"

Dean crushed the cigarette butt, as if seeing right through the man's heart, verbally unraveling the intricate issues that troubled Saul Aston.

His original intention had been to keep a low profile, but circumstances had changed. The premise of keeping a low profile was that others' attention wasn't on you. At such times, while enjoying the faction's protection, if unexpected events occurred, one wouldn't easily become a target, and there would be opportunities to maneuver. But now it was different. Saul Aston had actually summoned him. This was something Dean hadn't expected. It wasn't just a simple summoning; it was also a signal to Saul Aston's other followers that he valued this young man. One could tell just by looking at whom Saul Aston had summoned to the party. They were all his confidants, without exception. What was strange was that Saul Aston had never actually met Dean before. As the saying goes, there's no love or hate without reason. For someone like Saul Aston, who had experienced many ups and downs, he wouldn't value someone so highly without good reason. This indicated that Saul Aston had other ways of knowing Dean was different. Under these circumstances, it was no longer appropriate for Dean to maintain a low profile. Doing so would make it seem like he had ulterior motives—what might be termed 'disloyalty.' That was something to be scrupulously avoided. Instead, it was better to take the initiative. First, he had to secure enough benefits for himself.

...

Saul Aston scrutinized Dean for a long while, then his tight frown relaxed. "You are much more formidable than Monet described. If I hadn't seen your detailed information, it would be very hard to believe you just turned twenty-two. You are indeed a student of Mr. Anthony."

Hearing this, Dean breathed a sigh of relief.

So, Saul Aston valued him because of his mentor, Anthony.

He smiled lightly. "My mentor, Anthony, truly taught me a lot. The first lesson was that the platform is very important, so I am also very grateful to Captain Monet for leading me onto the right path."

"Haha." Saul Aston's gaze grew even more benevolent, and his lips curled into a smile. "You're right. Following the right person is indeed very important. At least, I never let my own people suffer losses."

With that, he sighed. "This is my strength, but it has also become my trouble. The cake is only so big. No matter how I divide it, someone will always be dissatisfied. On one side is my family, and on the other are the people who have always supported me. This makes things very difficult for me."

Dean, of course, wouldn't be deceived by a politician's words. Not a single punctuation mark in their speech could be trusted. These guys were even more cold-blooded and rational than Little Mike. Little Mike merely failed to understand emotions; he wasn't truly cold-blooded. Politicians like Saul Aston, however, would assign a value to everything and weigh it accordingly. Just as Saul Aston himself had said, he started with nothing. His only attractive assets were his family identity, his Chinese heritage, and his 'character.' Before his rise, these were his assets. But now, they had also become his shackles. Dividing the spoils wasn't like drawing pies in the sky. If Saul Aston didn't handle this well, he would be in a very difficult position.

Thinking it over, Dean's eyes darted, and he ventured, "Mr. Saul Aston, when there isn't enough cake to go around, the best solution is to enlarge the cake. You must already have some ideas, right?"

He was just a minor player. Even if he had some talent and potential, Saul Aston wouldn't need to discuss exchanging benefits with him unless it was something that required his direct involvement. Since Saul Aston wasn't getting to the point, Dean could only probe with his words. That was why he had initially wanted to keep a low profile and avoid being too conspicuous. Dealing with these people was exhausting—they were hypocritical, their methods convoluted, and he constantly had to guess their intentions. It was more frustrating than a young man trying to woo a girl.

Saul Aston was still pondering how to communicate with Dean to get him to do a rather troublesome task without asking directly.

Hearing Dean bring up the matter of the cake, he nodded, picked up the water glass on the table, and said meaningfully, "Dean, look at this glass. It can hold 350cc of beverages and water. Unfortunately, after the glass is emptied, a lot of residue is left behind. These residues take up a considerable amount of space in the glass. This means that when I get the glass, there's less for me to drink. I want to clean out these residues."

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