He stood, patted Wu Yu’s shoulder like a benevolent father, and added, "And don’t forget—go learn from Jin Wu. That guy’s got ten years of tricks. Better than me. Well... almost."
With that, Lee Wonho strolled out, leaving Wu Yu and the rookies staring after him like disciples watching their master float off to heaven.
Meanwhile, under the scorching noon sun, a different story was unfolding.
"Faster, faster! One more truck and then lunch!" the foreman bellowed.
Sweat-drenched workers heaved cement bags like ants. Dust stuck to their faces, turning them into pale ghosts.
Among them, Lu Pengtao dropped the last sack, then collapsed against it, panting like a man who had run three marathons. He staggered to a bucket, splashed his face, and sighed.
The foreman marched over, slapped a hundred-dollar bill into his hand, and pointed at the food truck.
"Day’s wages. Lunch box over there."
"Thanks."
Lu Pengtao tucked the crumpled note into his pocket like treasure and shuffled off for his meal.
He had just opened his box of greasy rice and cabbage when a voice called out:
"I said, why can’t I reach your phone? I had to call your wife—thought you were missing!"
It was Son Choku, wiping sweat off his brow as he sat down beside him.
Lu Pengtao chuckled weakly, pulling out a beaten phone from his pocket. He pressed the button. Nothing.
"Battery’s dead. Won’t even start anymore."
He took out a squashed cigarette pack, fished out one of the few unbroken sticks, and offered it to Choku.
"No thanks. I quit."
"Quit?" Lu blinked, then laughed hoarsely. "Good. Saves money." He lit up, took a long drag, and exhaled like a man letting out his soul.
Choku studied him quietly. Covered in cement dust, hair matted with sweat—this could have been his own life, if not for Suho’s factory. Worse, even. His bad back wouldn’t even allow him to lift cement.
"How’d you end up here?" Choku asked softly.
"What else can I do? My only skill is driving. But I’m old now; nobody wants me behind the wheel. So, I unload cement. At least this pays a little more."
"I thought you were working security."
"Yeah, nights as a guard. Days I haul cement." Lu shrugged. "Got a mortgage, a kid, a fiancée to pay bride-price for... Can’t stop grinding."
Choku sighed. "Careful, you’ll break your body like this."
"What choice do I have? You’re like me—you’ve got two daughters. You’d understand."
He flicked ash into the dirt, then looked curiously at his old friend.
"Anyway, why’d you come here? What’s up?"
Choku grinned. Tʜe source of this ᴄontent ɪs novel•fire.net
"Let’s talk business. I’ve got a job for you. Real one. Steady pay. Want to hear?"
Lu Pengtao raised an eyebrow, puffed smoke, and asked the three key questions every worker knew:
"What kind of job? How much? And... is it real?"
Son Choku didn’t waste time. He leaned toward his dust-covered friend and said directly:
"My main job is still driving. The salary is $8,000 a month, with insurance and benefits. Lu Pengtao, tell me—would I, Son Choku, ever scam you?"
Lu’s cigarette almost fell out of his mouth. "Eight... thousand? Are you serious?"
"Dead serious," Choku said firmly. "The boss trusts me with recruiting. That’s why I came to you first. Shuttle bus driver. Fixed route. Pick up employees, drop off employees. Easy work."
Lu Pengtao puffed hard, like the cigarette could buy him time. He’d been hauling cement all morning for a hundred bucks. Now Choku was dangling eight thousand steady dollars in front of him.
"Is everything you said true? Nobody wants an old guy like me anymore..."
"Do I look like I’d lie?" Choku smacked his chest. "I work there now. You think I’d feed you nonsense?"
Lu stared at him for a long moment, then finally let the smoke drift away with his hesitation. "Alright. I’ll trust you. Count me in."
Choku grinned, reached into his pocket, and handed over a crisp business card. "Good man. Sign the contract tomorrow morning. Don’t be late."
Back at the Steel Cup T-Shirt Factory, Cho Rin (still carrying the faint scent of subway station dust) returned with a thick folder.
"Boss, here’s everything from the bus trading market—models, prices, specs."
Kim Suho flipped it open, scanning the numbers. Big buses ranged from $800,000 to $1.3 million. He ignored the small ones—what use were cramped minibuses? A real bus should have the majesty of a whale, not a sardine tin.
His finger stopped on a top-tier model priced at $1.29 million. Spacious, high-end, practically a rolling hotel. Perfect.
Then he frowned. Who would pick it up tomorrow?
Cho Rin was tied up with insurance changes for the new benefits rollout at Horny Princess Interactive. Jin Wu was busy buying desks and chairs for the game studio. Jin Wu wasn’t even around.
Suho smirked suddenly. There was a candidate. Someone who desperately needed to be shuffled out of the workshop.
He tapped the desk with satisfaction. "Cho Rin, call Lee Wonho for me."
Lee Wonho came striding in like a soldier reporting to the emperor. "Mr. Kim, any instructions?"
Suho clasped his hands, wearing the solemn face of a man about to bestow a heavy destiny.
"The company is growing fast. Some areas are short on capable men. I’ve thought long and hard... and only you can handle this role."
Lee Wonho’s eyes misted over. "Mr. Kim, whether it’s climbing mountains of knives or diving into seas of fire, I’ll do it!"
"Good." Suho cleared his throat. "As of today, you’re transferred to logistics. You’ll wear two hats: Head of Purchasing and Head of Life Department. Salary increased to $15,000."
Lee Wonho froze. "P-purchasing? But... that needs computers. Spreadsheets. I’ve never touched office software! I’ll mess it up!"
Suho nearly laughed. Perfect. The less this man knew, the less havoc he could cause.
"You underestimate yourself. If you don’t know it, you can learn. You’re still young!" Suho waved grandly. "Don’t worry. Be bold. If I’m not afraid, why should you be?"