3: Take a top soldier to fight

Long Wu was an honest man, without any devious schemes.

He carefully stuffed the two stacks of big unity into the deepest corner of the kang cabinet in the inner room.

As if fearing it wasn't secure enough, he even pressed a tattered cotton quilt on top of them.

"Mother, I have to go out for a bit. Keep this money safe; tomorrow we'll go to the big hospital in the city."

From the inner room came Long Wu's mother's weak and surprised voice, "Wuzi, where did you get so much money? We can't do anything illegal!"

"Don't worry, Mother, it's clean money. I've sold myself to a boss to be a bodyguard; it's an advance on my salary."

Long Wu spoke nonchalantly, but only he knew the resolve in his tone.

"A boss? Which boss?"

In Long Wu's mother's mind, Lin Chuan was still young and didn't really look like a boss.

And Long Wu had only just realized it himself.

This boss of his was a bit too young, looking to be only around twenty years old.

However, someone who could casually take out twenty thousand yuan was clearly no ordinary person.

College students these days really were something!

Long Wu thought to himself.

Turning to leave the room, Long Wu grabbed a Dacron shirt and threw it on. Without even finishing the buttons, he gave Lin Chuan a nod.

"Boss, any work today?"

This address of "Boss" was stiff, yet sincere.

Long Wu had bronze skin and stood 1.9 meters tall with a large frame. Splitting wood every day had given him a body of lean muscle.

Lin Chuan felt like a weak little runt compared to him.

But then again.

These days, how could a boss like him be expected to handle a fight personally?

Lin Chuan didn't want to use his fists.

In this life, he only wanted to use his brains and play with beautiful women.

Lin Chuan put his hands in his pockets and glanced at the "28-inch" bicycle that rattled everywhere except for its bell.

"Lao Wu, do you know how to ride a bike?"

Long Wu didn't say a word. He swung a long leg over, and the aged Phoenix brand bicycle looked like a toy beneath him.

"Get on."

Concise and to the point.

Lin Chuan didn't stand on ceremony and plopped onto the back seat.

"Let's go. To the Canned Food Factory in the west of the city. Help me settle some punks."

"You got it."

Long Wu pushed off, and the bicycle creaked as it shot forward like an arrow from a bow.

One had to admit, this was professional quality.

Even a beat-up bicycle could be ridden with the momentum of a tank in Long Wu's hands.

But damn, this back seat was hard!

The dirt roads of the nineties were full of potholes and even large stones.

It wouldn't be until the mid-nineties that large-scale infrastructure construction would begin.

In the rural Northeast, many places didn't get large-scale asphalt roads until the early 2010s.

Long Wu rode fast and hard, and with every pothole.

Lin Chuan felt himself taking off and landing, his backside getting pounded until it felt like it was falling apart.

"Ow, Lao Wu, slow down! Slow down!"

Lin Chuan grimaced; on these old-fashioned bicycles, even the rider's seat was uncomfortable, let alone the back.

"Sorry, Boss, the road is too terrible."

Long Wu didn't look back, his muffled voice drifting over.

The wind whistled past his ears as the crop fields on both sides receded quickly.

Lin Chuan cursed in his heart: 'No, I really can't take this suffering.

I have to get a car sooner or later. Even if I don't drive a big Audi, I at least need a Santana!'

Now, with over six hundred billion lying in his system account, he could buy a whole fleet of Boeing planes.

But the difficulty lay in how to spend the money legitimately in this era.

In an era where "Ten-Thousand-Yuan Households" were rare, he was just a college student whose family had been poor peasants for three generations. If he suddenly drove a luxury car home tomorrow, never mind the neighbors, even his own parents would suspect he'd robbed a bank.

He might even be invited to the station to "drink tea."

He needed an excuse.

The money needed to be "laundered" and brought into the light.

For Lin Chuan, who was living a second life, this was practically a freebie.

What kind of year was '92?

It was an era where gold was everywhere!

The Southern Tour speeches had just happened, and the spring breeze was blowing across the land.

As long as one was bold enough, they could make a fortune doing anything.

Trading treasury bonds? A bit slow.

Going south for stock subscription certificates? That market trend had just passed its peak.

Or maybe just do border trade?

In his previous life, he started out in construction, but that was still slow.

Forget it, I'll think about it later. Anyway, there are plenty of opportunities. I can just pick up a few lucky finds—even if I tell people I won the lottery—just to establish the source of my first pot of gold.

Once the first pot of gold is there, how the subsequent billions come will just be a matter of snowballing. No one will scrutinize the "original sin" of a capitalist's rise to wealth.

While he was pondering, the dilapidated large iron gate ahead came into view.

The Canned Food Factory in the west of the city.

In earlier years, it was a star enterprise in the county, but it went bankrupt later due to poor performance. Now the factory buildings were abandoned and overgrown with weeds; usually, only stray dogs and trysting lovers would sneak in here.

It was also a prime spot for various thugs to settle their scores.

Screech—

Long Wu braked suddenly, and the bicycle came to a steady stop under an old willow tree fifty meters from the factory entrance.

Lin Chuan jumped off the bike, rubbed his numb backside from the jolting, and straightened his collar which had been messed up by the wind.

He looked up.

Boy, it sure was lively at the entrance.

A few youths with long hair and bell-bottom pants were squatting on the curb smoking, each looking like a hoodlum.

The most conspicuous one was the woman standing in the middle.

Zhang Yaoyao.

Starting in the 80s, perms began to become popular across China.

It was a trend.

Zhang Yaoyao had an afro-like perm; it was practically like having a lion's head on top of her own.

She wore a bright red batwing sleeve shirt and tight black Stirrup pants—the kind with a strap under the foot.

She was chewing Big Big Bubble Gum, blowing large pink bubbles one after another. When one popped with a snap against her face, she didn't mind the stickiness, just stuck out her tongue and rolled it back into her mouth.

This kind of behavior was called "fashionable" in this era.

"Lin Chuan!"

Seeing Lin Chuan approach, Zhang Yaoyao's eyes lit up. She spat the gum residue onto the ground and walked over.

"Oh my god, you finally showed up! I've been waiting for ages!"

As soon as she reached him, she tried to link arms with Lin Chuan. The scent of cheap perfume hit him right in the face, making him instinctively take a step back.

Zhang Yaoyao missed and froze for a moment, but didn't think much of it. She put her hands on her hips and began to complain.

"What took you so long? Look what time it is!"

"I thought you were too scared to come! Those bastards are all waiting inside!"

She pointed to the few punks squatting on the ground smoking behind her; they were the buddies she'd called to back her up.

"I'm telling you, you have to settle this for me today!"

"That sister of Li Hu's, that little bitch, actually dared to say I dress like a peasant!"

"This is the latest style I had someone bring back from Guangzhou!"

"It makes me so mad!"

"You have to help me teach them a good lesson!"

She rambled on, completely failing to notice Lin Chuan's ice-cold gaze.

Lin Chuan looked at the heavily made-up face before him.

This was the woman for whom he had been so foolishly infatuated in his previous life that he was even willing to risk his life.

He really must have been blind.

Shallow, vain, stupid, and a troublemaker.

"Where is Li Hu?"

Lin Chuan interrupted her complaining, his voice flat and devoid of emotion.

"He's inside!"

Zhang Yaoyao pointed toward the dark factory entrance, her momentum weakening slightly as she shrank back.

"There are quite a few of them, but you have to find a way to make them apologize to me!"

"You're a college student, so you must be the most capable one," a short-haired Delinquent girl next to Zhang Yaoyao said with a grin.

Zhang Yaoyao noticed Long Wu standing behind Lin Chuan.

Her gaze immediately turned contemptuous.

Long Wu was wearing a tattered Dacron shirt, black pants, and Jiefang shoes. Although he was tall, his rustic appearance made him look like a farmhand who had just arrived in the city.

"Eh? Isn't this that big dummy from the next village who came back from the army? Why did you bring him?"

Zhang Yaoyao rolled her eyes with a look of disgust.

"People already say I'm a peasant, and now you bring a bumpkin along? Are you trying to embarrass me?"

Lin Chuan's eyes instantly turned cold.

How could this woman be so stupid!

They were here for a fight, and she was still fussing over clothes.

"Just shut up. This is my brother. Since when is it your place to talk trash?"

Lin Chuan said.

Long Wu didn't want to deal with Zhang Yaoyao either; he simply ignored people who were too stupid.

"Who are you calling trashy? Lin Chuan, you've grown some attitude, haven't you?!"

Upon hearing this, Zhang Yaoyao exploded, ready to lunge and scratch him with a shrill voice.