Chapter 826: Social Circles

After spending some time reading through the entire proposal, Lynch looked at Congressman Landon. “Do you think it has a chance of passing?”

Landon sat comfortably. Only after reaching this position does one truly understand how enjoyable it is to be a congressman.

He never had to take responsibility for any single vote—when hundreds of people vote, who could say his vote was the deciding one?

Unless that could be proven, no matter how he voted, he bore no responsibility.

He still made all the money he was supposed to, and none of the blame ever landed on him.

If he was active locally or held key committee positions, he held real power—especially as a member of committees like the Budget or Appropriations Committees, where every vote was worth a lot of money.

Not only were those votes valuable, but such positions also came with considerable local influence.

For example, when he previously visited a local area under the capacity of an Environmental Committee member to investigate pollution, everyone—from companies to city hall—revolved around him.

Because just a word or a certain stance from him could trigger a shutdown and investigation for local businesses.

If that happened, tax revenue would dry up, people would lose jobs, and the whole region would descend into chaos.

To prevent that, they had to take care of Congressman Landon, or at least make sure he couldn’t find any faults.

So being a congressman was essentially a job where you could legally take money, have some power and status, and not be held accountable for your work.

Just like now—Lynch asked whether the proposal had a chance of passing.

If Landon were still a mayor, he would’ve answered with great caution. But now, as a congressman, he casually nodded.

The reason wasn’t that he had studied the proposal or deeply understood its contents. It was simply because—

“You know, the Duncan family’s lobbying group is the most influential in Eminence. Congress can’t resist them.”

In federal politics, if someone hadn’t heard of the Duncan family’s lobbying groups, they were definitely a minor player.

They had the most professional legal teams to handle emergencies, and former senators, governors, even vice presidents personally lobbied on their behalf.

Once those people stepped in, no one could stand in their way.

So from the beginning, Landon never considered whether the proposal could pass. The only question in his mind was whether he should at least pretend to hesitate.

After all, he had just become a congressman. He hadn’t yet developed the shamelessness of the veteran ones who treated this sacred job as little more than getting paid to act.

He still wanted to keep a shred of dignity, occasionally facing the conscience he technically no longer had.

“Yeah… the Duncan family.”

Lynch stared at the luxurious carpet beneath his feet, lost in thought. Some described the upper echelons of the Federation like this: five percent of the people controlled ninety-five percent of the nation’s wealth.

When that idea first spread, it shook the public. There were mass protests and strikes against the control that capitalists and politicians had over the country.

But it didn’t change anything. Labor unions played both sides and ended up silencing the issue.

Their reasoning? The rich didn’t become rich yesterday. What changes whether it’s reported or not?

Nothing changed. And since workers weren’t united anyway, a slight raise or better benefits would send them right back to the assembly lines. The uproar died quickly.

After that, no matter how rich a capitalist was or how extravagant his lifestyle, the public hardly reacted. The rich had always been rich—it wasn’t news.

The only thing that was newsworthy was when a rich man went broke. That sparked real curiosity.

But there was a more nuanced point:

Even among the so-called top five percent, that still meant millions of people. And within those millions who held ninety-five percent of the country’s wealth, a further 0.05% controlled a significant chunk—over ten percent of it.

The Duncan family, officially recognized among that elite, had around a thousand members. They controlled about ten percent of the entire nation’s wealth. That was real, nation-level wealth—truly staggering.

So when the Duncan family decided to push a bill through Congress, no one ever thought about stopping it.

Because no one—not even the President—could stop it.

Hoping for congressional loyalty to the country?

You might as well try to convince a street girl who just started selling herself to go home and find a real job. At least there’s a chance she might listen.

But congressmen? Don’t expect anything from them.

All they care about is who pays more and who pays less. Nothing else matters to them.

Landon looked at Lynch, his eyes gleaming. “Do you have plans tonight?”

Lynch shook his head. “Why, do you?”

Landon chuckled. “Not really. Why don’t we have dinner together? My wife’s not in town…” He offered a brief explanation.

His wife didn’t adjust well to Eminence’s fast-paced life—everyone always seemed to be rushing. She preferred the slow, rural rhythm of Sabin.

So Landon bought a small farm on the outskirts of Eminence, where his wife and daughter’s family lived.

After Landon became a congressman, his daughter and her family quit their jobs to help him manage life matters.

Most of the time, he lived alone in the city. On weekends, he’d go out to the farm—or they’d come visit.

This kind of lifestyle was common among congressmen. People only cared that they maintained the image of a family and harmony among its members. No one wanted to—or could—see them sticking together every single day.

People, regardless of social status, are ultimately creatures who worship appearances.

Lynch nodded. “I’m free tonight. That works for me.”

“Mind if I invite a couple more people?” Congressman Landon asked with a tone of suggestion. “They’re some new friends of mine. You know, this place is still unfamiliar to me. Making a few connections could help me adapt and settle in more quickly.”

Lynch gave a slight nod. “No problem.”

By 7:10 PM, the chef brought in specially from a hotel had already prepared a lavish dinner.

For ordinary people, a meal like this could only be had at a fine restaurant. But for those with wealth and power, a single phone call was all it took to have a top-tier chef show up with fresh ingredients and prepare a feast at home.

Just one call.

The chef didn’t leave immediately after finishing. In case the guests requested anything else later, he would be around to assist with additional dishes or needs.

Serving a congressman was a great honor—for both the chef and the restaurant.

At around 7:15, Landon’s so-called friends finally arrived.

For most people in the Federation, 7 PM was just about the end of dinnertime. Standard working hours meant no one got off earlier than 6 PM. Many factories let workers go at 7.

Government offices also ended the day at 6 sharp—no earlier. A few years ago, it used to be 6:20, but they later decided the extra twenty minutes were pointless and trimmed it down.

The government even held over a dozen hearings to confirm that ending the workday earlier wouldn’t be considered a waste of taxpayers’ money. Only then did people refrain from protesting or striking.

So dinner at 7 was perfectly normal. Some even preferred to eat closer to 8.

The two congressmen who arrived brought gifts. Interestingly, one brought a bottle of wine, and the other a small box of pure salt.

“Landon… and Mr. Lynch!”

Both appeared very well-mannered, in their fifties, dressed impeccably.

Each acted like a true gentleman. After handing their coats to the maid, they both remembered to say thank you.

“I heard from Landon that you’d be here, so I rushed over!” Congressman A said, his flattery slightly awkward but understandable.

In a country ruled by capital, capitalists are the true masters. With Lynch representing the new generation of powerful and promising capital, how could they pass up this dinner?

Even just exchanging words or business cards might lead to future favors—either given or received.

Congressman B chimed in with a smile, “Looks like we’ll have something new to talk about tomorrow…”

That was a more skillful kind of flattery—smooth and subtle.

The four of them sat down at the table. The two congressmen invited by Landon were clearly very pleased with everything, mainly because Lynch was present.

And Lynch showed genuine goodwill. He quickly struck up a warm conversation with the two, while Landon himself seemed to fade into the background.

But everyone knew he wasn’t being sidelined. He played a crucial role: he was the bridge between Lynch and Congress.

Until someone emerged who could replace him and earn Lynch’s trust, his position was secure.

Not everyone in Congress was always cooperative—there were always some more marginal figures. What Lynch lacked most right now was influence within Congress.

Aside from Landon, he didn’t have any particularly close allies among the lawmakers.

Even those from the Military Committee were limited to a single collaboration—most of the work was still handled by military personnel.

Mr. Geruno’s effort to push the recent proposal gave Lynch an important insight: it was time to start accelerating the building of his own influence in Congress.