Shane sat in the living room for a while longer, flipping through several news channels repeatedly. Only after confirming there were no follow-up reports about the "lost items" did he finally relax.
"Are you really okay?" Ian, already sitting on the sofa, asked with some concern.
Shane smiled. "Don't worry. If I really got shot, I would definitely film a video immediately, treating the wound care as a teaching material to post online."
"Hey, that's not funny at all," Ian retorted with a frown.
Shane didn't say more, patted Ian on the shoulder, and turned to go up to the second floor.
His first video was mostly edited, but he didn't plan to release it immediately.
The internet has a short memory. If he released it now without follow-up videos to keep the momentum going, the heat would dissipate quickly.
He needed to wait for Kevin's training to show initial results and edit a more impactful "before & after" video as a small climax for the series.
Shane had the plan all thought out: the first video establishes the persona, firmly setting his character; the second video is a tutorial; the third video is the results reveal.
Of course, the results video didn't necessarily require Kevin to become a muscle man before posting. As long as there were visible results, it could be released, followed by a series of videos later.
Shane was confident in this combo punch. This time, he was looking for Lip to help him create a small program to solve the most critical technical problem.
That is, how to deliver the goods after the user pays.
He had neither the time nor the interest to learn programming; the most direct way was to find Lip.
Shane pushed open the door to the second-floor bedroom. Lip was sprawled on the bed, reading a book by the light of the bedside lamp.
Seeing Shane come in, Lip lifted his eyelids. "Yo. What, did you pick up something else? or did your camera finally capture Frank naked and you plan to blackmail him?"
Shane walked directly to his bedside, pulled up a stool, sat down, and cut to the chase:
"Lip, help me make something. A simple website, or a payment link, that allows people to automatically receive the videos and schedules I've prepared after paying."
Lip put down the book and sat up, looking interested: "Whoa, looks like our fitness business is officially taking off? Want an automated store?"
"Right, as long as it can collect money and automatically deliver goods."
After listening, Lip gave his answer:
"Shane, this stuff is already ancient technology in 2010. No challenge at all."
He offered a solution: "Use PayPal's 'Buy Now' button embedded in a simple page. I'll write a small script to automatically send a download link to the buyer's email after successful payment. Ancient tech, but for a small business like yours, it's more than enough."
"Can you handle it?" Shane asked.
"Nonsense." Lip had a "you are insulting me" expression on his face. "Three days, at most three days to get it done for you. But."
He changed the subject and threw out the most critical question.
"Whose account are you planning to use for receiving payments? PayPal payments, especially commercial ones, eventually need to be linked to a bank account that can withdraw cash. Whose will you use? Yours? Fiona's? Or... are you going to use Frank's?"
Speaking of Frank, he couldn't help but laugh himself.
"I've considered this. Let Fiona get a bank debit card specifically for receiving payments."
Shane added, "But we have to wait a few days, let her calm down first."
Hearing this, Lip made an OK gesture. "Good, then now we should talk about the price. Even brothers keep clear accounts. 200 bucks, take it or leave it. I guarantee to get it done properly for you, better than those flashy ones on the market."
This price was a friendship price combined with technical cost for building a small website capable of automated transactions.
Hearing Lip ask for 200 bucks, Shane didn't bargain directly but smiled.
"200 bucks? Too boring. How about this: you help me get this done, and I'll give you a new laptop. Guaranteed to be much faster than that ancient relic you have now."
Hearing "new laptop," Lip's eyes lit up instantly, but as if thinking of something, he immediately lowered his voice:
"Oh ho? A new laptop? Where did you... wait, don't tell me you're using what was in that 'sack'..."
"Screw you!" Shane interrupted him grumpily. "Those 'ghost things' all went down the sewer. If you want them, you can go lick the pipe now; maybe you can still taste the flavor."
"I have some connections over in Chinatown. Stuff coming from the East. Either 'water goods' (smuggled goods) or assembled second-hand parts, but the condition and performance are definitely better than what you have now. The key is they're cheap."
This reason instantly dispelled Lip's doubts, replacing them with great excitement.
A better computer was far more tempting to him than 200 dollars in cash.
"All right! All right!" Lip bounced up from the bed, his face full of motivation.
"Deal! It's settled then, my 'financier' lord!" He rubbed his hands and pounced directly onto that buzzing old laptop, urging:
"You'd better hurry up and settle things with Fiona, get the payment account info. Once I have the framework set up here, just fill in the interface parameters! Also, the laptop—I want one with better battery life!"
Looking at Lip's motivated appearance, Shane couldn't help but laugh. It seemed a new laptop was indeed a huge temptation for the current Lip.
His target had long been selected—Lenovo ThinkPad W510.
In 2010, this machine was a solid mobile workstation-level laptop, a dream equipment for many engineers and designers. The base configuration market price was over $1500, and the high-end version couldn't be had for less than $2000.
But on Temu, he could snatch it for $55, complete with a one-year "warranty" that he didn't know if he could redeem.
"Go for it, for your new computer." Shane patted Lip on the shoulder, turned, and left the room, returning to his basement.
He sat on the bed and let out a long sigh of relief.
Recalling the argument just now, Shane made a decision: from now on, unless absolutely necessary, he wouldn't make up reasons to give Peggy's money to the family again. Just this once, dealing with Fiona and Lip had consumed so much energy; it was too tiring.
Be more direct. When the family really can't put food on the table, I'll just use the System to buy some food back. It saves trouble.
He thought, As for the rest, wait until my own business gets on track.
However, despite holding a "huge sum" of twenty thousand dollars, an inexplicable sense of urgency still weighed on his heart.
This money was like water without a source; use a little, and it's a little less.
The path of a fitness influencer takes time to ferment; it's impossible to generate stable cash flow immediately.
He urgently needed to find some transitional methods to support him until the video channel started making a profit.
Shane lay on the bed, staring at the dim light bulb on the ceiling, his brain rapidly calculating various possibilities...
---
Late at night in the South Side of Chicago, the cold wind was biting.
Two sneaky figures appeared near the dumpster where Shane had picked up the sack.
Without much talk, the two directly began to rummage through the dumpster, making the empty cans and some rotting food inside rattle.
After rummaging once and finding nothing, the thinner figure jumped directly into the waist-deep dumpster and began to grope around in the garbage full of sewage.
The other one searched around using the light from the street lamp.
A few minutes later, the thin figure straightened up, a look of resentment on his face.
"Fck! It's really fcking gone!" he roared at the other person. "Must have been picked up by some lucky homeless guy or junkie! Damn it, lucky bastard!"
The other accomplice's face also turned ugly: "What do we do? If we can't find the goods, the boss will definitely take it out on us... We're in big trouble."
"What else can we do?" The thin man climbed out of the dumpster, jumped twice to shake off some of the sewage and trash from his body.
"It's not our business anymore. Keep an eye on the streets and markets these few days, see if any new faces who don't know the rules are selling goods. That's all we can do."
The two scanned the empty street unwillingly again, hoping that the lucky dog who struck gold would appear in front of them.
...No one passed by.
Unable to stand the cold any longer, they left the alley cursing, leaving behind only a dumpster that had been ransacked into a mess.