Chapter 6 — Who Is This Bumpkin?

This in turn allowed one to infer, from the side, just how high the incomes of Gu Group employees must be. Seen in that light, his own salary of thirty thousand a month did not seem so very generous after all.

Led by Uncle Qing, Wei Zhao came to a dark blue Bentley Arnage 728. It was a 2006 model, immaculately maintained; whether it had been bought only recently or simply cared for with uncommon attention, the car looked brand new.

"Mr. Lin, please get in." Uncle Qing pulled open the passenger door and gestured him inside.

"I sit in the front? Then in a moment the young miss...?" Wei Zhao hesitated before asking.

"The young miss always sits in the back," Uncle Qing said. "She has her schoolbag. Sitting up front would be inconvenient."

Wei Zhao nodded and got in. Uncle Qing drove slowly down into the underground parking garage. As they passed the security post at the exit, several guards snapped to attention at once, watching the car out the gate with grave faces.

Uncle Qing drove with great skill, though it was plain that his was the steady, by-the-book sort, not the same school Wei Zhao had learned. Wei Zhao's training leaned more toward racing; there was no help for it, since one of the old man's famous sayings was that losing a fight was not your fault, but if you could not even run away after losing, then you deserved whatever bad luck came to you.

So Wei Zhao had learned a good many escape techniques. Though he had only ever used them against the old man himself; in front of anyone else, it was always the other fellow who did the running.

"Mr. Lin, can you drive?" Uncle Qing asked, glancing at Wei Zhao, who sat quietly beside him while they waited at a red light.

Uncle Qing was an old hand at the wheel and a keen judge of people. Whenever someone sat in his car, he could usually tell from small details whether that person could drive. Wei Zhao, however, showed no particular reaction, which was why Uncle Qing asked.

"A little," Wei Zhao said. As a newcomer, he thought, better to be modest.

"Do you have a license?" Uncle Qing did not ask how much "a little" amounted to; he knew how much the boss trusted this man.

"Not yet." Wei Zhao shook his head. He could drive — he had even raced cars abroad — but he had no license. "I just turned eighteen. Haven't had time to get one."

"Then give me your ID card. I'll have a license made for you. That way, if Mr. Gu and I have business to attend to, you can drive the young miss to and from school."

The car stopped near a school that looked extremely luxurious, but did not pull up to the gate — probably because the car was simply too conspicuous, and it would not do for the other students to see.

From the file, Wei Zhao already knew that Songshan No. 1 High School, though a private school, was not the aristocratic academy one might imagine, but a provincial key high school that recruited students by examination from across the province. There was no lack of sons and daughters of the powerful and wealthy who got in through connections, but most students had earned their places on their own merit.

Backed by three major conglomerates, Songshan No. 1 High School surpassed other schools in facilities, resources, and faculty alike — which was why its college-entrance rate had stood at one hundred percent for years.

In truth, Wei Zhao understood that this hundred percent must be padded. Some spoiled rich kids never studied at all, yet in the end they too went to university — on the strength of their families' influence.

The familiar bell marking the end of class rang, and Wei Zhao's mind wandered for a moment. How many years had it been since he last heard that sound? The lapse was brief, though, and he recovered, watching the school playground with calm eyes.

Before long, students began filing out of the teaching building, some in uniforms, others in ordinary clothes. As a rule, unless there was some major event, the school made no particular demands about what students wore.

"That is the young miss." Uncle Qing suddenly raised a hand, pointing to a girl among a group of boys and girls emerging not far away.

Wei Zhao looked where Uncle Qing pointed. It was a tall, strikingly beautiful girl. Though there were other girls around her, one glance was enough for Wei Zhao to guess that this must be the young miss.

The old man had said it before: Gu Mengyao was the school beauty. And a school beauty, presumably, was the prettiest one — unless Wei Zhao's aesthetic judgment was somehow defective.

The girl beside her was also remarkably good-looking, but she was a little too petite, clearly not matching the height in the file. Still, she counted as one of the more promising candidates for school beauty; grown up, she would surely be the kind to bring ruin upon nations.

Gu Mengyao and that girl were walking quickly toward the car, but several young men who looked like rich young masters were chasing doggedly after them.

"Mengyao, wait..." One of them blocked her way. "Mengyao, my feelings for you are sincere. Just give me one chance!"

Gu Mengyao frowned and gave the boy in front of her an impatient look. "Zhong Yongliang, aren't you tired of this? I've told you already, I don't like you. Stop pestering me."

"But..." Zhong Yongliang wanted to say more, but Gu Mengyao shoved him aside and left him standing there.

Gu Mengyao walked over quickly, opened the car door and got in. The girl who had been with her got in as well, which surprised Wei Zhao slightly.

"That Zhong Yongliang is going to be the death of me, pestering me every single day. Doesn't he ever get tired?" Gu Mengyao was still grumbling after she got in. Then she looked up and saw Wei Zhao in the passenger seat, and said in astonishment, "Who are you?"

"Hello, my name is Wei Zhao." Wei Zhao tried hard to make himself look endearing. This young miss seemed to have something of a temper.

"Wei Zhao? Uncle Qing, what does he do?" Gu Mengyao looked at Wei Zhao, baffled.

"Miss Gu, this is the study companion Mr. Gu hired for you..." Uncle Qing began by way of introduction.

"Study companion? Who wants a study companion? Didn't I say I wanted a shield? Look at him — who could he possibly shield me from?" Gu Mengyao grew agitated at once, sizing Wei Zhao up and down. What on earth was he wearing? A big tank top and torn trousers, dressed like a migrant worker come to town — even a migrant worker would not be as hick as this. Did he think he was performing in a folk song-and-dance duet?

Uncle Qing broke into a sweat, wiped his forehead, and cast Wei Zhao a somewhat helpless glance. Only when he saw that Wei Zhao showed no particular reaction did he breathe easier. He was the person closest to Gu Pengzhan, and so knew some of the inside story — how much effort it had taken to get Wei Zhao to come, even to the point of the old master of the house stepping in.

Martial Universe