Chapter 3 — Are You Rich? The Girl No Longer Kicked Wei Zhao in the Leg, but Leaned Against the Window, Quietly Listening to Her MP3
The Herdsman of the Wasteland · Page 2 of 2
"No, thanks…" The girl twisted shyly, shaking her head. "My family is waiting for me at the exit."
Wei Zhao nodded at her answer and did not press the matter. Picking up girls was a technical skill, but it also required letting things take their natural course; being too deliberate would backfire. "Then I won't disturb you."
Wang Xinyan watched Wei Zhao's receding figure and shook her head. What a peculiar man he was. If her mother had not been waiting for her at the exit, she would not have minded getting to know him a little better.
It was not that she had any particular fondness for Wei Zhao, only that he seemed truly out of the ordinary—carrying that much cash in his backpack instead of putting it in a bank, dressed in the shabbiest clothes possible, yet possessing an indescribable sort of presence.
"Sir, need a room? Very cheap…"
The moment Wei Zhao stepped out of the train station, he was surrounded by a crowd of touts from nearby inns. A getup like his, a migrant worker's attire, made him the prime target for these small lodgings' business.
Who among the rich would stay at such small inns? The big hotels did not need to send people out to hustle customers.
Wei Zhao waved them off, pushed through the ring of touts, and headed toward the taxi stand in the square. In his hand he held a slip of paper—the address the old man had given him before he left.
He got into a taxi, and the driver asked warmly, "So, young man, where are you headed?"
"To this address." Wei Zhao handed the slip of paper to the driver.
This driver was one of those who hung around the train station area all day, and he could size up a passenger at a glance. One look at Wei Zhao told him this was an out-of-towner, probably a laborer come to find work. So he figured he could fleece him a bit—the kid would not know his way around anyway. Grinning with satisfaction, he took the paper Wei Zhao handed him, glanced at the address, and his face instantly turned green.
The slip read: No. 36 Guangming Avenue, Songshan City, Pengzhan Tower. 11.2 kilometers from the train station, taking the new Second Ring Bridge.
The route had already been mapped out, and the distance was marked to the decimal. What was there left to fleece anyone on? But why would this kid be going to Pengzhan Tower? That was the biggest conglomerate in Songshan City. Could a man dressed like a migrant laborer possibly know anyone inside?
The driver sighed, tossed the paper aside, and drove on without any tricks.
The traffic in Songshan was smooth, and there were plenty of bridges, so Wei Zhao felt that he had reached his destination almost before he knew it, going up one and down the next. He paid the fare of twenty-four yuan and got out of the car.
Gazing up at the towering building before him, Wei Zhao felt a little dizzy. Wasn't this even taller than the mountains back home? His employer must be wealthy indeed—maybe it really was as the old man had said, that a single job could keep him set for life. He just wondered whether jumping off the top would kill him.
Then again, back home, the old man had once kicked him in a flying boot from the mountaintop straight down into a ravine, and he had not died—just ended up black-and-blue with a swollen face, lying in bed for several days.
Wei Zhao confirmed the building number and the name of the tower, and only after verifying that there was no mistake did he stride boldly through the entrance.
Please visit for the latest updates, ad-free reading.