When Yvonne Shaw finished untying the ropes and came out, the group of gossiping shop assistants had already dispersed, each standing in front of their three or four-foot-wide stalls, energetically shouting, "Two for 99, two for 99! Miss it today, wait until next year! All down jackets are being cleared out at a loss, off-season!"

"Come and take a look, two for 99!"

Yvonne Shaw, with a strong scent of perfume, walked over and said, "I'm heading out for a bit. If anything happens, call me. If you run into any of those clueless idiots again, don't bother reasoning with them, you hear me? Just curse them out, don't waste your breath explaining. Reasoning is for people, not for idiots."

Ethan Young took a detour, went to three grocery stores, and finally found a megaphone with an amplifier.

Red and white, dug out with difficulty from under a pile of miscellaneous goods. To show that it still worked despite the layer of dust, the shopkeeper immediately plugged it in and played a song called "Damned Gentleness" on the spot.

The function was indeed powerful—deafening.

Ethan Young's ears hurt from the noise. As he took out his money, he said, "Alright, how much is it?"

The shopkeeper was even closer to the megaphone and didn't hear a word Ethan Young said. He wiped the dust off with his sleeve and, hoarse and hysterical, shouted his sales pitch. The old man was already up in years, yet he could still belt out such high notes: "—Durable! If it doesn't work, you can return it! Guaranteed return!"

"How much?"

"Quality guaranteed! If there's a problem, just come to me! This shop never changes its name or owner! Jianxing Grocery!"

""

A hand stretched out in front of the old man—slender, with distinct knuckles, and neatly trimmed nails.

Ethan Young, expressionless, pressed the power button, and finally there was peace: "How much."

"Two c twenty-five."

The old man gestured a two, then a five, and said, "Do you want it? If you do, I'll wrap it up for you."

Before Ethan Young could nod, the old man had already picked up a plastic bag and stuffed the megaphone inside, quickly grabbing a few mysterious sheets of paper from a thick stack on the table and shoving them in as well.

—Gynecology hospital, painless abortion.

—A blessing for men, the second one half price.

Apparently, running a grocery store wasn't enough; he also took on the job of handing out flyers. Ethan Young gained a new appreciation for the initiative and business skills of the people on Heishui Street.

The old man wasn't done yet and tossed in a few more. Judging by the colors, none of the flyers were duplicates: "Side business, side business. Responding to the Party's call, actively striving for a moderately prosperous society, working hard to make money for you. Here you go, hope to see you again."

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2. Chapter Two

Those flyers covered almost every industry, from circumcision to small loans, all-inclusive. There were even locksmiths, c miraculous traditional Chinese doctors c private detectives c professional exam-takers

Ethan Young directly pulled them out and threw them in the trash, leaving only the last one, which read: Mysterious game, ignite your passion! Good brother, ah~~ come on~~~

The wavy lines were outrageously flirtatious. Just as Ethan Young was about to throw it away, he heard someone behind him shout with great vigor, "You brat!" Ethan Young's hand shook, his train of thought interrupted, and he reflexively stuffed the flyer into his pocket.

Yvonne Shaw rubbed her hands together: "What brings you here to see me?"

The first thing Ethan Young did when he saw her was hand her the black plastic bag, then quickly take a few steps back, keeping his distance: "What is that smell on you, toilet freshener? Why are you spraying so much of it?"

"Bullshit toilet freshener, that's my womanly scent." She'd used up half a bottle of perfume.

After speaking, she opened the plastic bag and saw what was inside, stunned for two seconds: "I was just joking, and you really got me a big megaphone—how does this work, is this the switch?"

Ethan Young's temple throbbed: "—Don't press it, it's too loud."

He spoke too late. Yvonne Shaw had already pressed the red button, like a child with a new toy, and the song that hadn't finished playing in the grocery store blasted out of the amplifier again, as if it would echo for days.

Yvonne Shaw was a bit dazed: "Damn, that's intense?"

"Turn it off, quick," Ethan Young added, "And your voice, don't you know yourself? Smoking—just keep smoking if you want."

Yvonne Shaw: "It's not that bad. With my strong physique, I could easily go another three hundred years."

Ethan Young silently sized her up, immediately noticing that her right hand kept unconsciously supporting her waist. Years of hard work had left Yvonne Shaw's back in poor shape; she had to use a medicated patch every day, or sometimes the pain would keep her from getting out of bed.

"Strong, sure, if you say so."

Yvonne Shaw noticed Ethan Young's gaze and quickly put her hand down, her words flowing out smoothly, though who knew if they were true: "My back's fine. Last time you told me to see a doctor, I went. It was fine, the doctor said it wasn't a big deal."

As he listened, Ethan Young walked into the Guangmao Building. He was wearing a plain, even somewhat cheap, black t-shirt—one that Yvonne Shaw had bought for him before. She often sent him clothes, buying anything she thought suitable, and eventually accumulated a box as tall as half a person.

His hands were in his pockets, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up a few times, revealing a slender wrist. His hair was medium-length, looking soft, even curling naturally from being so fine, yet it added a sharpness to his appearance.

He asked, "How many truckloads are you unloading today?"

Yvonne Shaw was already over forty, always busy with stocking and shipping, keeping an eye on everything, dealing with troublemakers and all sorts of issues—she handled it all, except taking care of herself. Her hair was permed last year for the New Year, but neglected since, now looking like a messy instant noodle head, dry and yellowed.

You could still see traces of her youthful beauty in her features, but time spares no one.

Even in a crowd, she was just an ordinary middle-aged woman, so ordinary that you might doubt whether the beauty glimpsed in her eyes was just an illusion.

"Eighteen truckloads. Even though it's still summer, we have to keep an eye on the autumn stock, or the suppliers might not make the deadline." Talking about work, Yvonne Shaw instinctively reached for her pocket, hoping to find a cigarette, but only found a lighter.

Ethan Young asked again, "Do you have enough people hired?"

"Plenty, plenty, don't need you." Yvonne Shaw said, "Last time you showed up to help without a word, I still haven't settled that with you."

Once, when she hurt her back unloading goods, Ethan Young skipped a day of school and joined the workers, unloading four or five truckloads. The boy, out of his school uniform, was drenched in sweat.

At that time, business at the wholesale market wasn't great, and only in the past six months had things started to improve. They hired as few workers as possible, and taking over two floors of Guangmao was already a stretch, so naturally, they tried to save costs wherever they could.

The two of them stood in the elevator, the cramped space making the perfume smell even stronger, almost like air freshener. The service elevator probably also carried fresh produce, so besides the overwhelming perfume, there was a faint fishy odor.

Yvonne Shaw asked, "You've grown taller again, haven't you?"

Ethan Young replied, "Almost 1.8 meters now."

Yvonne Shaw looked him up and down, half wanting to laugh, half wanting to frown: "You've gotten thinner."

The elevator opened. Ethan Young walked out, but Yvonne Shaw was still harping on the word "thin": "You need to eat your meals on time. Young people these days are always dieting—don't get any funny ideas, why are you stopping here?"

Ethan Young blocked her way, completely shielding her view.

"What's wrong? What is it?"

Ethan Young didn't give her a chance to see what was happening ahead.

He directly pushed Yvonne Shaw back into the elevator and decisively pressed the button.

He moved so fast that even the group of fierce-looking men inside didn't react in time. By the time they realized, the elevator doors were already closing.

"Damn," the leader, a man with a face full of flesh and a gold chain around his neck, pulled the cigarette from his mouth and tossed it at his feet, cursing as he strode forward, "—Yvonne Shaw, you stinking bitch, you fucking stop right there!"

He was the only one who reacted quickly; the others still didn't realize the woman they were after had almost slipped away right under their noses. The gold-chain man waved his big hand, furious: "What are you all standing around for? Go! Are you just here to watch the show? You! Go down the stairs and catch her!"

The elevator was already halfway closed. Ethan Young lowered his voice and said quickly, "Go down first, get someone over here."

Through the gap in the elevator doors, Yvonne Shaw caught a glimpse of the man's face. She had so much to say, but time was tight, so she hurriedly shouted, "Ethan Young!"