Chapter 15: The Smoke of the Razor Gang in the London Fog (Second Update, Please Bookmark and Recommend)

In the mirror, a slender and graceful figure twisted again and again, her eyes fixed solely on the black lingerie she wore. Lace, push-up padding... All these elements combined created an irresistible allure for the woman. She appraised her own body with greedy eyes, gently caressing herself and biting her lip. Her gaze grew dreamy as she turned around and looked seductively at the man on the bed.

Li Yi’an met her gaze, his attention drawn to this enticing figure. Since returning from New York, he had come straight here, presenting her with this gift. Though the store catering to “tomboy” styles rarely stocked her size, the smaller size was even more striking.

“I truly can’t believe it...” she whispered.

“Believe what?” he asked.

“That I could be this beautiful!”

She stepped lightly, her sparkling eyes filled with tender affection that could captivate anyone.

“Thank you for the gift.”

To Stana, the black lingerie was simply a gift from the man brought back from New York—and it was enough to enchant her. Indeed, it made her want to become a gift herself for the man she hadn’t seen in days.

As she moved toward the bed, she suddenly seemed to recall something and turned back to retrieve something from the drawer.

“Darling, while you were away these past few days, I attended several gatherings and recommended our seamless stockings to some ladies...”

Watching her alluring figure bend over, Li Yi’an swallowed hard. This woman was a real mood breaker; one had to have self-control!

Money matters could wait for another day.

...

At last, when everything had settled, the woman lazily lay across the man’s chest, and they began to talk.

“So, your trip to America was to get cigarettes?”

“Not just cigarettes, but other scarce items, like stockings. If I get the chance, I’ll bring more back.”

“I see.”

Stana finally understood where the man’s stockings came from. Her fingers tapped lightly on his firm chest as she softly warned him, “But you have to be careful. Cigarettes and coffee beans are different from stockings—those who can afford stockings are wealthy ladies, but cigarettes easily attract official attention.”

“Official?”

Li Yi’an looked puzzled.

“Seems like the authorities are cracking down on the black market?”

“What do you think?”

Rolling her eyes, Stana stretched her long legs onto the headboard as if to relax.

“If the authorities didn’t crack down, would it still be called the black market? Since the war broke out, officials have dispatched many inspectors across the country. If caught, black market dealers face fines and two years in prison.”

She flipped over onto him, looking serious as she spoke.

“Promise me you’ll stay safe. I don’t want to... have to visit you in jail.”

...

The fog over London was smoke exhaled by the Razor Gang. If New York’s underground order belonged to the Mafia, then London’s was ruled by the Razors.

Upon entering the bar, Li Yi’an immediately felt the eyes on him.

Small suits, bow ties, flat caps... and razor blades sewn into the brims!

These were a gang of suit-wearing thugs.

A group that had fought their way from Birmingham to London, becoming the city’s largest gang.

While most British men served in the military, they still roamed the streets in suits and bow ties.

When many Brits couldn’t even get beer and had to make do with poor-quality potato liquor, these gangsters drank the finest Scottish whisky.

Only these gangs could handle large shipments, and Anderson, the street dealer, belonged to the Razor Gang. As the introducer, Anderson took a seat at the bar counter, leaving the rest to unfold.

“You’re Chinese?” John asked.

“Yes.”

“When did the Chinese start getting involved in this business?”

John got straight to the point.

“That’s not important. What matters is I can supply 5,000 packs of Lucky and Camel cigarettes and 2,000 pounds of coffee beans.”

The moment Li Yi’an spoke, all eyes, including John’s, widened in surprise. A young man nearby bluntly said, “Impossible. No one can currently get that much.”

“But I can...” Li Yi’an smiled faintly.

“And that’s just the beginning. I can provide more in the future—if the price is right.”

John sized up the Chinese man and asked, “Do you have your own ship?”

Li Yi’an said nothing.

Both sides knew the truth: all ocean-worthy ships had been requisitioned by the navy—the cargo ships for transport, fishing boats for anti-submarine patrols, even yachts were pressed into service. How could he possibly have his own ship?

But where was he sourcing these goods from? Perhaps from American military supply depots?

After some thought, John said, “Three pounds per pack of cigarettes, 2.5 pounds per pound of coffee beans. I can pay you twenty thousand pounds.”

“I don’t want money!”

Once again, Li Yi’an’s words shocked them.

“What? You don’t want money? What did you say?”

John thought he was being mocked. Someone drinking nearby even reached for his hat—the brims hid razor blades, cheap and sold in stores, perfect as concealed weapons and the gang’s namesake.

A benefit now was that injuries caused by such blades wouldn’t attract outside attention.

“Kid, what do you mean?”

“Carl, when will you learn to keep calm? Let Fang finish speaking,” John said coolly.

“I need some goods.”

Li Yi’an smiled, unafraid, glancing at the razor blades sewn into their hats.

“Oh? What kind of goods?”

“Cars.”

Li Yi’an stated plainly.

“Ninety percent new cars.”

“What! Cars? Are you sure that’s what you want?” Anderson was stunned by the request.

Carl looked thrilled, almost jumping.

Cars!

He actually wanted cars!

It was unimaginable.

Everyone knew cars were the least valuable commodity in Britain now. Gasoline was scarce and expensive, and without fuel, cars were mere ornaments—ones that required annual taxes. Some wanted to sell to avoid taxes, but who would pay money for a heap of scrap?

Yet now someone wanted scrap!

“Of course, but I’m not asking for ordinary cars. I want luxury cars,” Li Yi’an said with a smile.

There were many classified ads for cars in American newspapers. Unlike Britain, cars were essential to most American families’ lives. But war had destroyed many vehicles, and replacements were impossible—since the outbreak, the US had halted civilian car sales and production. The only way to buy was secondhand.

But the secondhand market was empty. The shortage made even slightly decent used cars sell for prices comparable to new ones.

The stark difference between the British and American car markets was an opportunity—not only for huge profits but for highly sought-after goods.

John studied Li Yi’an for a moment before saying bluntly, “Deal. I can provide several luxury cars, and they’re all brand new.”