Insufficient balance

  On the hot dog stand near Fifth Avenue in New York's Central Park, all the remaining hot dogs and sausages added up to less than six dollars. The vagrants around each held a hot dog with two sausages, some impatient and hungry ones already sat on the steps devouring them with relish, while several others apparently reluctant to eat, wrapped their hot dogs and one sausage in newspaper, it was unclear whether they were taking them back for their companions or saving them for breakfast tomorrow.

  There were still over a dozen hot dogs left, and when Wang Geng handed over a $20 bill, the stall owner was in a dilemma. It was the good fortune of the hot dog vendor and his friends to have met someone as kind-hearted as Wang Geng tonight, but how could he possibly make change for this $20 bill?

  Twenty dollars is roughly the weekly salary of a white-collar worker at a large company in New York, while Silvestre, a Mexican vendor, sells hot dogs for a day and earns only about ten dollars. After deducting costs, he can earn one or two dollars, which is a meager income.

  As it happened, the twenty dollars was actually Charles Edison's salary for this week. Although he was the boss's son, at General Electric Company, he was still just an intern engineer earning a salary.

  Silvis gathered all the small change he had collected from his business that day, which was only a little more than five dollars. Wang Geng nodded and took over the old man's trembling hand with the five dollars in coins, stuffing the twenty-dollar bill into his hand instead, smiling as he said

  "Your hot dog tastes good, I don't have enough money now, so I'll save it and come back to eat next time when I pass by!"

  A vagrant who was eating a hot dog nearby whistled and said, "Old Xi, today you can meet a kind-hearted person. I've never touched a $20 bill in my life!"

  Sealves' face, full of wrinkles, finally cracked a smile as he carefully put the twenty-dollar bill into his pocket and clasped his hands together in gratitude towards Wang Gang. He muttered to himself in Mexican dialect, then rummaged under the stall for a piece of burlap and some newspapers.

  The old Mexican carefully wrapped a dozen hot dogs in oil paper and then wrapped them in several layers of newspaper, tied with cloth into a bundle, the knot was quite exquisite.

  Wang Gang's plan in his heart was to use these hot dogs as a midnight snack for the nurses in the recovery ward, this small trick he had used many times before when he stayed at the reception office of the Northern Military Region to win over those service staff.

  Steaming hot dogs and sausages may be small, but as a midnight snack, they can also bring a bit of warmth on a cold New York winter night.

  He nodded to the old vendor, and Wang Gang stood at the side of the street with his bundle, looking around. Several taxis had just passed by, all of which were occupied, so he waved goodbye to the old man who was packing up his stall and a few vagrants who were still teasing him, and strode away in big strides.

  He hadn't gone a few steps when he heard the roar of a motorcycle and the screeching sound of tires rubbing against the ground from behind. He turned his head to take a look, and two guys who were obviously New York street thugs stopped in front of the hot dog stand on an old motorcycle.

  "Hey, old man! You haven't paid for today's stuff yet! Thought we wouldn't come tonight, huh? Two bucks and you're still stalling! Hurry up and hand it over to us brothers! Make four more hot dogs, grill six sausages! Quick! The big boss is waiting!"

  The curly-haired punk sitting in the backseat was chewing gum and yelling at Schilves.

  He yelled at the vagrants around the stall, "What are you looking at? Get out of here!"

  Those few vagrants were scared away and dispersed, leaving only a hot dog stall and an old man at the large entrance.

  Wang Gangyi knew that this matter was not so simple, these two thugs were obviously here to collect protection fees. To say that this is an objective fact of New York's underclass society, Wang Gang had no intention of being a heroic Batman. If the Mexican stall owner had those two dollars in change, there would be no problem. The thugs would take the protection fee and the extorted hot dogs and sausages, pat their buttocks and leave.

  The problem is that the Mexican vendor's hot dogs and meat sausages are all in his own package, and the old man only has a twenty-dollar bill next to him. This thing may not end well, Wang Gang stopped in his tracks.

  An old man with a worried face opened his hands and said a string of poor English with a heavy Mexican accent, but the meaning was clear: "Hot dogs are sold out, no change nearby, hope to be forgiven, pay again when there is change tomorrow!"

  The hooligan on the back seat of the motorcycle was obviously slower-witted, and after hearing the old man's words, he shouted at the hooligan driving the motorcycle.

  "Second brother, what to do? The hot dogs are all sold out. Now when we go back, the eldest will scold us for sure. This old man doesn't have any money on him today either. Why don't we just come again tomorrow! This wind is blowing and it's freezing!"

  The driver in front was revving the motorcycle's throttle, making a deafening noise, while turning his head back to yell at the hooligans behind him.

  "Lao San, what kind of brain do you have? If the hot dogs are sold out, will there be no money? If the hot dogs are sold out, he should have a lot of money in his pocket! How can your brain be so stupid?"

  "You old codger! Are you tired of living or what? How can hot dogs be sold out and there's no money?! Are you taking me for a ride?"

  The curly-haired rogue on the back seat of the motorcycle was scolded by his own second brother, and he suddenly became furious. He jumped down from the back seat, rushed to the front of the Mexican old man with a fierce momentum, kicked over the charcoal basket beside him, and the things rolled all over the ground.

  The old man muttered to himself, unaware of what he was mumbling about. Apparently, he was being asked to hand over the brand new twenty-dollar bill that Wang Geng had given him. The old man must have been reluctant, having set up his stall on a cold night and finally encountering a big customer like Wang Geng. This twenty dollars was no longer just money for the old man.

  In fact, the old man had been thinking about how to give his little granddaughter and bedridden wife a surprise when he returned home. If it weren't for his wife's illness and urgent need for money, Silvestre, the Mexican elder, wouldn't have stayed out so late without returning home.

  "Two dollars, that's it, I'll pay for him! Don't bother him anymore!" Wang Gang suddenly appeared beside the two thugs, one hand holding a package and the other holding two crumpled one-dollar bills.

  The sudden appearance of Wang Gang scared the two thugs who were focusing on the old man, Wang Gang's reason for mediating was that New York's underworld collecting protection fees was an unspoken rule of this era, and if the old man wanted to survive here, he had to pay protection fees.

  The New York City government can't even handle it, let alone Wang Geng having the idea of intervening. It's just two dollars, if it can make the old man happy to go home, I'll pay for it!

  Xie Silvis's old lips trembled, wanting to speak but stopping himself, his eyes filled with shame and gratitude as he looked at Wang Geng.

  Two thugs, although unexpected, no one would refuse the dollars handed over to them. The second rider snatched two dollars from Wang Gang's hand, and each of them identified the authenticity under the dim light.

  Taking advantage of the two rascals studying the authenticity, Wang Geng signaled to the old Mexican man to quickly pack up his stall and go home.

  "Whoa! You're quite bold, aren't you? What makes you think you can pay for him? This side of Central Park is our territory, it's only right that he pays us protection money. Where did this heroic, self-righteous monkey come from?"

  The curly-haired rogue, Old Three, stuffed the one-dollar bill in his hand into the hand of Old Two, who was riding a bike. The two exchanged a glance, and then Old Three swaggered up to Wang Geng, clearly targeting this guy wearing a windbreaker and carrying a package. With just two dollars, he could tell that this guy was a wealthy fool! Who else would they swindle if not him?!

  Wang Gang shook his head and said, "If you say that existence is reasonable, then you want to collect protection fees. I just happened to be passing by and was willing to pay on his behalf, so you can't bully him anymore. I'm not trying to play hero, I just don't want to ruin the good mood tonight!"

  This guy just swindled a $50,000 check from Edison and General Electric, then ate several hot dogs and roasted intestines that smelled of oil in the cold wind at a Mexican stall, and also did good deeds to help vagrants, so it's natural for him to be in a good mood.

  On the other side, Old Shi had already packed up his stall. Although he wasn't reassured about Wang Geng facing two thugs alone, Wang Geng waved his hand carelessly and told him to hurry off. The old man hesitated for a moment before pushing his cart and disappearing around the corner.