I'm a Master in India

Present-day Mumbai is a tinderbox, and wherever there are Hindus and Muslims, battles are bound to erupt.

Naturally, due to their numerical advantage, the Hindus often have the Muslims on the defensive. They move in droves, sweeping through the streets from house to house.

The shops run by Muslims have always been a focal point for the rioting crowds. Under the leadership of the Shiv Sena, the city is awash with orange battle flags.

Ron and his companions only relaxed after taking refuge in a private club guarded by the police. He often brought officials and directors here for entertainment, and many people at the club recognized him.

"Ron, I'm keeping an eye on your territory for you; no Muslims will be causing trouble there," Police Chief Samant of the Colaba Police Station said as he approached to shake Ron's hand.

"My business is completely ruined," Ron complained. "When will this end?"

"When we drive those damned Muslims out of Mumbai. They're all vicious criminals. Extortion, rape, murder, gang warfare... there's nothing they won't do."

Samant harbored deep prejudices against Muslims, believing that they committed a third of Mumbai's serious crimes and were more violent and prone to crime than Hindus.

Ron didn't know if this constituted sectarian discrimination, but most people here agreed with Samant's words.

Looking around, the people hiding in the club were either officials or businessmen like Ron. Perhaps their identities could be viewed from another perspective: they were Mumbai's privileged class.

The streets outside were chaotic, but the people in the club had the leisure to sip red wine and discuss business.

The walkie-talkie in the hands of the policeman at the door transmitted angry roars almost every few seconds, real-time battle reports from the front lines.

"Military trucks approaching, loaded with milk and other rations. Major Sayeed Rahmatullah is leading the team... crowds are gathering... requesting reinforcements."

"Damn it, why are they giving milk to the Muslims? Are they courting death? Don't they know who's gathering there?" Samant cursed.

"Those who received the milk and supplies have dispersed," the person on the walkie-talkie replied after a moment.

"Who authorized the distribution of milk? Can't you damn well understand? No milk for those dogs!" Samant raged.

"Two... military trucks, led by Major Sayeed Rahmatullah."

"Intercept the trucks! Search him! To hell with the Major, he's a Muslim!" Samant angrily issued the order.

"Mobs are gathering outside the Marathi garage, location: Gasgali district, Lamington Road, may set fire to the garage. Requesting support!" Another walkie-talkie sounded.

"A Muslim garage, let it burn. Damn it, make sure to watch the Marathi garages, don't touch them. If it's a Muslim garage, let it burn."

The police here made no attempt to conceal anything; they issued such orders in full view of everyone.

Ron shrugged at a stunned Luca. What could he do? Everyone here was Hindu, and mostly upper-caste at that.

Once the situation outside calmed down, Ron planned to leave as well. He needed to discuss some matters with Luca and see how much his business had actually lost.

"I'll have two people escort you," Samant gently grabbed his arm. "Ron, my son is learning English recently, and he needs a whole set of imported tutoring materials, so..."

"Okay, what's the budget in US dollars?" Ron asked smoothly.

"Twenty thousand dollars." He gestured discreetly, his face full of flattery.

"Because of the riots, the rupee exchange rate has been falling these past two days. About one to two points, is that okay?"

"Damn those Muslims!" Samant cursed, but finally agreed to the price.

"Have someone pick it up from my company in two days."

"No problem!" Samant's efficiency in handling such matters was always high.

As he was about to leave, he waved and arranged for two additional police officers to escort Ron. A total of four policemen guarded them front and back, as if Ron were their superior.

With such a formation, no petty thief with any sense would dare to cause trouble. The group quickly arrived at the Indian Hotel in Xiangtu, where Luca would be staying for the time being.

After tipping each policeman 200 rupees, they bid a polite farewell. One of the large policemen even hinted that, for a price, Ron could directly hire policemen as bodyguards.

This was Mumbai: hell for the poor, paradise for the rich.

"Let me make a few calls first." Leaning on the hotel bar, Ron picked up the landline and started dialing.

The first people he called were Mary and Lena. From last night until now, he had been preoccupied with various matters and hadn't had time to contact many people.

Fortunately, Mary and Lena were in Bollywood, where there was little rioting. They had safely returned to the apartment and had even called him several times in the meantime.

Ron felt a little guilty; he could only pretend that he was stuck in some hotel. Then he began a round of concerned inquiries, which greatly moved Mary and Lena.

Alas, being a playboy was quite tiring; you had to constantly provide emotional value to the girls.

From the phone calls, Ron learned that Bollywood was also temporarily unable to resume work. Several Muslim stars had been threatened by Hindus in the crew, and the director and producer had to suspend filming.

Well, he couldn't count on income from being an extra here for the time being. Ron then called the train station and airline, where the situation was equally bad.

Although they weren't shut down, the number of tourists had greatly decreased, and foreigners were almost non-existent.

Western media had already begun to report extensively on the riots in Mumbai, and no one was willing to risk their lives.

Ron looked up at the television in the lobby. Sure enough, the screen was showing the Mumbai riots.

"My guests are hiding in their rooms, afraid to come out, and even food is being delivered to their doors by the waiters," Xiangtu said helplessly, shaking his head.

"When will the Shiv Sena stop?" Ron asked.

"Who knows? Today, Bal Thackeray himself went to that tenement building to hold a mobilization meeting."

Bal Thackeray was the leader of the Shiv Sena, and Rafiq was his right-hand man. Their mobilization in front of the tenement building where a family of six had been killed was tantamount to promoting violence and rubbing salt in the wounds of the Muslims, as hundreds of them had died in just two or three days.

Clearly, this conflict would not end so easily; the Shiv Sena had seized the opportunity. They had taken the stage in Mumbai, and in conjunction with the BJP, they were now displaying their presence everywhere, determined to take over the city.

"Ron, the Persians are about to attack!" Anand ran in from outside.

"What?" Everyone was taken aback.

"It's all over the place, saying that the destruction of the Babri Masjid has completely enraged the Muslims, and they're recruiting troops; a bloody battle is inevitable. Everyone is saying this; small shops, train stations, office tea rooms, people are organizing convoys to the beach.

That place is close to the Arabian Sea. Last night, they turned on their high beams and were on alert there. Someone was also on the lighthouse, keeping watch, guarding against the Persian fleet supposedly loaded with various missiles and firearms, just across the harbor. I saw many people at the docks with my own eyes."

Anand looked panicked; their slum was not far from the beach. The all-night car engine sounds and lights made everyone uneasy. If a real fight broke out, their slum would be the first to suffer.

"Don't worry, Persia won't declare war," Ron reassured him.

"How do you know? Those people are crazy; they like to fight wars," Anand was still worried.

"This concerns the lives of billions of people in two countries; war won't break out." Ron couldn't tell him that these two countries had never fought in later generations.

"Do you have some inside information?" Anand leaned over furtively.

"I just met with Police Chief Samant; that's what he said," Ron lied without batting an eye.

"That's good, don't fight, Baba," Anand smiled happily.

This guy is too easy to fool, Ron thought to himself, of course, this was also out of trust in him. After chatting with Xiangtu and the others for a few words, Ron took Luca and Anand upstairs, while Velraj ran back to prepare to coax Hella.

Ron never played the simp; it was always others who actively simped for him. Look at Mary, Lena, Kavya, which one didn't actively push him onto the bed?

Even little Niya was itching to try, wondering if she should take off her clothes and crawl into his bed. Cough, she's too young, Ron couldn't bring himself to do it.

"Anand, there's not much hope for our business for the time being," Ron sighed with some melancholy after sitting down.

He had bought a piece of land, and the travel agency was also preparing to open. But just as he was about to make a grand plan, everything was put on hold again.

"As long as there's no war, Mumbai will soon be as lively as before," Anand was very optimistic.

"Hopefully."

Hadkhan hadn't contacted him recently either. The meeting with a certain official that they had agreed on last time would probably be shelved now.

"We can start other businesses first," Luca interjected, seizing the opportunity.

"What business, pharmaceuticals?" Ron said listlessly. "Didn't you hear Anand say that the docks are under guard now; we can't find a ship to go to sea."

"We won't go to sea for now; the pharmaceuticals can wait. Have you heard of Merck?"

"That American pharmaceutical company?"

"Oh, you know it. That's good. They're preparing to come to India."

"To open up the Indian market? I'm not optimistic."

Since ancient times, the genuine often can't beat the counterfeit. Ron had seen a lot of it in Celestial Dynasty; those foreign brands often performed poorly.

"No, they're not selling drugs; they want to build a laboratory. You understand, developing new drugs requires clinical trials."

"You mean drug guinea pigs?" Ron almost instantly thought of this term.

"Drug guinea pigs! See, what a great term." Luca was very excited. "I have connections with Merck; they're willing to pay us a lot of money, as long as we find drug guinea pigs."

Ron was somewhat silent; of course, he knew what drug guinea pigs were for, but this somewhat touched his bottom line.

Admittedly, he wasn't a good person, but to let a living person test drugs, he still couldn't quite get over that hurdle.

The lives of the Indians are also lives.

"Ron, actually many people are willing to do this job, as long as they're paid," Anand suddenly interjected from the side.