I said ingratiatingly, "Just tell me, will there be any more earthquakes in the future?" This was what I wanted to know most, and it was also the reason why I was trying to please him.
Old Liu stubbed out his cigarette, counted on his fingers, and muttered, "Let me do the math for you. A, B, C, D, Zi, Chou, Yin, Mao, one equals one, two equals one, add one to make five..."
I said, "Stop pretending to be a grandson, aren't you a god?"
"There are regulations from above that prohibit the use of magic in the human world unless absolutely necessary. But my divination is really accurate. There will be an aftershock at 3 a.m. tomorrow—that's what I told everyone, believe it or not."
I realized I couldn't outmaneuver this old charlatan; he understood the mentality of a rogue very well.
The reason I didn't panic about the early arrival of the 300 tents this time is because, being clever, I came up with an emergency plan less than two hours after the earthquake. I've already ordered 100 tents from a local online camping equipment retailer. Each tent can accommodate five people, so my current capacity is 500. Then I'll lead them to the outskirts to camp. Under these circumstances, no one will suspect anything, and finding accommodation can be postponed. However, I plan to wait a few more days; I reckon the housing prices will drop significantly!
At 2:30 that night, I confidently woke up my group of five and Baozi. None of them had slept soundly, and when I said there would be an earthquake at 3:00, everyone except the two women believed me without a doubt. I noticed that Liu Bang really didn't dare walk behind me. We put on our coats and went out of the house, standing shivering in the square across the street. At 2:45, many people started to emerge from our street. At 2:55, Old Zhao and his group were the last to leave, filling the square. At first, everyone was a little embarrassed, and the first thing they said was, "You heard about it too?"
At 3 o'clock, the earth was as still as water, and no one spoke, all focused intently on their feet. At 3:15, some people began to relax, and they began to ask each other questions. Many said, "I heard it from that fortune teller Liu under the park wall."
I knew something was wrong. We waited until dawn that day, but there was no sign of an earthquake, and people yawned and went back to their houses to sleep. That day, there was a stern announcement on the radio, saying that someone was taking advantage of this special period to spread rumors about an impending earthquake, with ulterior motives, and that the police were already searching for him. This person had a nickname, Liu the Half-Immortal, and his official title was Liu Laoliu.
Chapter Thirty-Eight: Yucai Martial Arts School?
I woke up with a deep-seated hatred for Liu Laoliu, and then received two phone calls. The first was simple: 100 tents had arrived. The second was from the city's largest car dealership. At first, I didn't know what it was about, so I told them I hadn't looked for a job online for several months.
The person I spoke to on the phone was actually their general manager. We're both managers, but his credentials are several levels higher than mine. He's an entrepreneur who's been on the local news and even shook hands with the mayor. He cautiously asked me, "Excuse me, did you order that Hummer H2?"
Then it dawned on me, and I exclaimed, "Oh right, I almost forgot about that!" The other person was even more respectful. What kind of tycoon could so easily forget about a car worth over 2 million yuan that they had already paid for?
He smiled apologetically and said, "During this extraordinary period, our company has introduced a new policy that requires us to ask our customers again before the car arrives. Are you sure you still want that car?"
That's a clever move, a psychological warfare tactic. Lately, people around here with a little money have been building temporary palaces on vacant lots, and most of the truly wealthy have gone abroad. This car company's strategy is a classic case of making less money but gaining more favor; even if they temporarily return the cars, they've maintained goodwill, and the money will flow in later. Besides, which of those wealthy people would dare say, "I'm running for my life, I don't want this car anymore?"
I have no shame!
I grunted through my teeth, "Wasn't this car supposed to arrive last week?"
"Hehe, I'm really sorry. Because your requirements for the configuration were too high, a batch of components had to be shipped from the United States, which caused the delay. Now the car is finally assembled. As long as you confirm, you can drive it around in a maximum of 3 days. Congratulations, I've never seen such a cool car in this city."
I said, "Is that so? I'm going abroad to lay low for a few days, so I don't want this car for now."
The other person was taken aback, probably because he had never heard a wealthy person speak like that before, but he immediately smiled and said, "It's good to take this opportunity to go abroad and relax. Do you need a temporary vehicle for the next few days? I recommend a Jeep Wrangler. We have them in stock. If you'd like, you can experience its driving pleasure this afternoon. Its biggest advantage is its strong off-road capability, which can take you over mountains and rivers..." I replied, "On the run?"
The other person shut up and, after a long pause, said, "If I may be so bold as to ask, what kind of work do you do? Perhaps I can make a recommendation tailored to your job."
"I'm in international trade."
"Oh, then specifically..."
"Arms and drugs."
"...Hehe, you're joking. We'll give you a full refund. Goodbye!"
This guy is so clueless! I was actually thinking of asking him if he had any used Jinbei vans or something. The 300 bus is coming the day after tomorrow, and I'll definitely need a car. Xiao Wang's car is impossible to borrow these days; he's too busy delivering goods to the supermarket.
Another thing is buying clothes for 300 and the subsequent 54. This is quite a headache. It's okay now that it's summer, but after July and August, it'll be autumn, and winter clothes will be expensive. At this rate, I'll be living off my savings without spending any of the 5 million. Fortunately, the car company returned nearly 3 million to me. Doing this is quite unfair to Xiang Yu, but at most it's misappropriation, not embezzlement. If things improve in the future, I'll spend as much as I need for him—I mean, if things improve.
I arrived at Futai Street, and it was exactly the same as before, bustling with activity thanks to the fearless paupers. I strolled around for a bit before entering a medium-sized shop. The proprietress was a 40-year-old woman whose breasts could cover her belly button. I asked her if she had a large stock of ready-made clothing. She initially thought I was ordering school uniforms and pulled out a dozen or so crudely made tracksuits for me to choose from. I told her I needed to provide uniforms for hundreds of workers, and if the price was fair, I would also buy winter clothes from her. The woman's eyes immediately lit up, and she started touching and pinching me. The few khaki work clothes she showed me were either too thick or too expensive. Seeing that I seemed uninterested and about to leave, she whispered mysteriously in my ear, "I have a batch of clothes that are absolutely cheap, but they're not very nice. Do you want them?" I told her that our workers were building a power plant in a remote, sparsely populated area and didn't care about appearances.
She furtively pulled out a set of clothes, and when I unfolded it, I saw that it really didn't look good, and it was rather dusty. I frowned and said, "Putting aside whether it looks good or not, why does it look so familiar?" The shopkeeper lowered her voice and said, "Take a closer look and you'll see. Just a heads-up, if there are two more stripes on the shoulders and a number written on the chest..."
Holy crap, I see! These are clearly the clothes of a convict.
Seeing that I was somewhat tempted, she added fuel to the fire, saying, "It's for the workers to wear, so it doesn't need to be fancy. Besides, if you wear clothes like this, other construction teams won't dare to mess with you... It's only 20 yuan a set, and you can give 50 yuan for each set including shoes and underwear."
I said, "Won't the police arrest me for escaping from prison if I wear this out on the street?"
The proprietress said, "Don't worry, this is only a semi-finished product. It will have flowers on the collar when it's fully made. You can also choose to have a Puma logo painted on its back, but to avoid trouble, the leopard will be lying face up..."
I asked her, "Can you embroider 'Serve the country with utmost loyalty'?" I wanted to curry favor with these Yue Family Army soldiers first.
"It's not a big problem. I didn't expect that a construction team like yours would have its own corporate culture."
"Can you lower the price a bit? I need 1,000 sets, and I need them tomorrow, cash on delivery."
The proprietress concealed her delight and said sternly, "Young man, if you say that again, this deal is off. I'm not saying anything more. You do the math yourself. Even if our clothes are made from recycled mops, the processing fees alone would be more than this, wouldn't they?"
I thought about it and laughed; it really makes sense.
"Then I won't say much more. Here's a 2,000 yuan deposit, but you have to deliver it to this place. Don't forget 'Serve the country with utmost loyalty.' I'll give you the rest of the money after I receive the goods."
The proprietress pointed at the 2,000 yuan and said, "Isn't a deposit of 2,000 yuan a bit too little for a 50,000 yuan deal?"
“I’m not willing to give it to you! I’m not willing either. Right after the earthquake, I led a bunch of people dressed like this around looking for work. People who didn’t know the situation would definitely think that a prison had collapsed—hey, by the way, does your man work in a prison?”
The proprietress dodged my hand as I tried to snatch her money, saying, "Fine, 2000 it is. My husband is in prison."
As I was leaving, the proprietress handed me a piece of paper, pointed to the opposite side of the street, and said, "We're offering you a free psychological consultation; it's a specialty of our shop."
I glanced across the street and saw a psychological counseling center had opened sometime earlier. I walked in, half-laughing, half-crying, and immediately understood what was going on: the proprietress was indirectly supporting her old lover's business. The man, nearing 50, with a goatee, sat in his chair, his eyes gleaming with lust, and every now and then he'd wink at the person across the street. Seeing me enter, the man with the goatee straightened his face and said, "Do you have any psychological problems?"
"No, it's just that I don't have enough money."
"This is the biggest psychological problem. How much money do you think is enough to live on? In other words, what kind of life do you aspire to? Some people earn tens of thousands a month, but they are unhappy; some people only earn a few hundred a month, but they..."
I said, "Stop talking nonsense."
Suddenly, the man with the goatee grabbed the sign that read "Psychological Counselor." I thought he was going to hit me with it, but instead, he turned the sign around, revealing a gossipy face: "Oh, since you're not interested in psychological counseling, how about I give you a fortune reading?"
...