The pain of spending money was real, but he still had to buy it. In the end, Raymond Brooks set his sights on Iowa, his face resolute as he said, “I’ll buy this pair!”

The salesperson hadn’t even started to speak when John began muttering.

“Twelve hundred and sixty-four dollars, plus three hundred and twenty dollars, you owe me fifteen hundred, hmm, fifteen hundred…”

“Stop calculating. It’s one thousand five hundred eighty-four dollars, let’s just round it up to sixteen hundred.”

John glanced at Raymond Brooks, then pulled out his phone, opened the calculator, did the math, raised his eyebrows in surprise, and said, “Your math is really good.”

It was the first time in Raymond Brooks’s life that someone had complimented his math skills.

After confirming the amount, John took out his card and placed it on the counter—he was going to pay for Raymond Brooks.

In the US, very few people carry large amounts of cash. Even hundred-dollar bills are rarely used; people swipe cards for purchases of even a few dozen dollars, or use checks.

Mobile payment was out of the question. Raymond Brooks didn’t have a card, and he didn’t want to draw attention when shopping, so he could only have John pay for him and then pay John back in cash later.

The result was that John got a headache from doing the math, and Raymond Brooks felt the pain of spending money.

Out of five thousand dollars, sixteen hundred was already spent. Sixteen hundred dollars, converted to RMB, was ninety-six hundred—round it up, that’s ten thousand. Raymond Brooks had spent ten thousand yuan on clothes, shoes, and a belt. Extravagant, way too extravagant. Raymond Brooks had never been this extravagant in his life.

A softshell, a hardshell jacket, two pairs of pants, a quick-dry hoodie, a quick-dry shirt, a dozen merino wool socks, and two sets of the cheapest but passable formal wear. Actually, sixteen hundred dollars for all these clothes was already a pretty good deal. After all, anything related to tactical or outdoor gear is expensive.

Raymond Brooks silently picked up a large pile of shopping bags, then said to John, “We’ve got all the clothes and shoes. Can we go now?”

“Let’s go.”

Putting away his card, John enthusiastically helped Raymond Brooks carry a few bags.

Raymond Brooks knew very well that John was being so helpful for one reason only—he was waiting to learn kung fu from him. So he was genuinely worried: if later John found out his kung fu was just for show and not actually useful, what would his attitude be then?

No, he couldn’t go to the company just yet.

Even though he was already tired, Raymond Brooks decided he had to play with the gun first. Otherwise, it wouldn’t be so convenient for him to find a shooting range or gun shop on his own later.

In Los Angeles, if you don’t have a car, it’s not impossible to get around, but it’s really, really inconvenient.

John drove a Ford Explorer SUV. After Raymond Brooks buckled his seatbelt, he casually said, “John, you said there’s a shooting club near our company, right? Can you take me to check it out first?”

“What’s the rush? Go tomorrow. You’ll need to practice shooting often in the future, and you’ll get sick of it soon enough.”

Raymond Brooks said earnestly, “I’ve loved guns since I was a kid, but gun control is extremely strict in China. I couldn’t even touch a gun there, so I can’t wait to finally hold one…”

“Just hold one?”

John turned, pulled a pistol from his waist, and handed it to Raymond Brooks, saying, “Here you go, touch it all you want.”

Raymond Brooks took the pistol, and realized that maybe “touch” wasn’t the right word, but the gun in his hand grabbed all his attention, so he didn’t bother correcting himself.

It was a 1911, noticeably heavier than a Glock 17, but Raymond Brooks felt the weight gave it a great feel.

“Nice gun! A competition-grade Kimber Custom II—this is a great gun!”

Kimber’s semi-handmade 1911 pistols are all competition-grade, high-end on the civilian market. Slightly bigger and heavier than the Glock 17, but with a much slimmer grip, so it actually feels even better in the hand than the Glock 17.

As an armchair military enthusiast, Raymond Brooks might be more familiar with this gun than many actual users. Even though he’d never used one, things like chambering a round, disengaging the safety, and swapping magazines were ingrained in his mind. He could even field-strip the gun completely without a problem.

John looked at Raymond Brooks in surprise and said, “Kimber advertises in China now? You just said guns are banned there.”

“Uh, how should I put this…”

At this point, John said with a look of disdain, “Alright, you’ve touched it, now give it back.”

Reluctantly handing the gun back to John, Raymond Brooks said enviously, “That’s a high-end gun you’ve got there, really nice. How much did it cost?”

“High-end? Don’t kid yourself. The real high-end 1911s are Cabot, and above that are Cabot’s custom editions, and above that are famous gunsmiths’ handmade customs. Kimber high-end… what a joke.”

John had already started the car, but didn’t drive off right away. After putting the gun back in its holster and making a point to complain, he finally pulled out of the parking spot.