Book Synopsis
Book Tags
Donation Rankings
Comment
0 Comments
You May Also Like
墨書 Inktalez
In the police interrogation room, Zheng Yifan and three others sat with Aunt Tang and Dad Tang. The atmosphere was simple, filled with brief exchanges, after which no one paid them any mind.
The chubby man kept grinning at the police across from him, which was unsettling.
"Kid, you really are something. You managed to get Deputy Director Hao from the city bureau to personally handle this trivial matter," one of the officers said, looking at Zheng Yifan with a hint of disdain.
In just over ten minutes, Zheng Yifan and his companions were escorted out of the police station by the precinct chief, and the incident involving the dozen or so people sent to the hospital quickly faded away.
"Ugh, I'm doomed. When I get home, my dad is definitely going to make me eat stewed meat with leather straps again," the chubby man lamented, his face full of despair. Just hearing his father's voice made him feel like a chicken facing an eagle.
"Hey! Jun, how did you get so fat? It hasn't even been six months, right? You've gained quite a bit of weight. I almost didn't recognize you," a middle-aged man with a military demeanor stepped out from another room. He wasn't bloated or rotund; he was just a straightforward soldier, meticulous in every aspect.
Just one glance revealed that he was the type who would force himself to return anything he used back to its original place. A person with strict principles.
"Uncle Hao, stop teasing me. It's so hard for me to lose weight! I might as well gain more. I'll think about losing weight when I have the chance," the chubby man said as he rubbed his face vigorously.
"Alright, you guys head home. They won't make things difficult for you. I've got the details; the relocation funds from the real estate developer will be fully disbursed. No one dares to cause trouble. When the time comes, I'll make sure you get a set of commercial housing from Relocation," Deputy Director Hao said casually, as if he were picking up a cabbage at a market.
After that, Zheng Yifan and his group parted ways with Deputy Director Hao. He had come to visit an old comrade who had been injured during their service and happened to deal with this matter on the side.
It really didn’t take much time; in just half an hour, everything was settled, including arrangements for Tang Hao's family's house.
Just as Aunt Tang and Dad Tang were preparing to express their gratitude, Deputy Director Hao had already left in his car.
"This is how it gets resolved? Not a penny to pay? And we even exchanged the relocation house for commercial housing?" Dad Tang looked nervously at the police station.
This place is not a good one for ordinary people; just stepping inside could cost you dearly.
But today, they came out unscathed, with the usually wolf-like police actually escorting them out.
“Auntie, this is the power of privilege. Those at the top of the food chain can decide the fate of those below. What seems impossible for us might just be a simple matter for those in higher positions,” Zheng Yifan comforted Dad Tang, but he was also reminding himself that it was the upper echelons he should be pursuing, to become one of those who hold his destiny in their hands.
Zheng Yifan silently gritted his teeth. Next time, he would not let others help him; instead, he would help those who needed it—his friends and family.
As they walked along, there was little conversation. Fat Li’s face grew almost purple from holding back his emotions, his expression dark enough to seem like it could drip water.
When Dad Tang and Aunt Tang returned home—one tidying up while the other went out to look for a place to rent—the four young men sat on a dilapidated bench in the yard. Fat Li was too large for the bench, so he simply sat on the steps in front of the main entrance, taking up the entire width of the stairs, with half of him still hanging off to enjoy the breeze.
“Honestly, we should do something. No matter what, we should at least have some semblance of success. Otherwise, we’re just letting punks walk all over us without daring to fight back. It’s infuriating,” Fat Li, known for his short temper, was the first to speak up, his frustration evident.
“If we don’t rely on our parents’ influence, what can we poor folks do? We can’t even earn enough for meals. Four finance majors and we’re talking about selling egg pancakes on the street?” Tang Hao said dejectedly.
Zhao Kai sighed beside him, “Among us, only Li Jun’s family has money, but he’s always at odds with them and never takes much from home. He has to find work on his own, and without connections in this society, what can we really do?”
The four exchanged glances in silence, each feeling despondent.
“Perhaps… perhaps I can suggest an idea,” Zheng Yifan finally said after a long moment of contemplation.
“What kind of business can we start?” Tang Hao’s eyes lit up as he looked at Zheng Yifan. Among them, he was the most financially strapped. Although he had resolved issues with housing and local thugs, he was still troubled by renovation costs and supporting his parents.
Their family owned just a small plot of land; his mother worked as a sanitation worker while his father tended to their vegetable garden. In addition to that, he often folded gold paper into ingots to sell to funeral homes to supplement their income.
These earnings barely cover the essentials, and supporting Tang Hao through college has drained the last bit of savings from this impoverished household.
As for being a low-income household? Please, don’t even think about it. That kind of assistance is just pocket money for the privileged class, aside from those with disabilities.
"I have a friend in import-export trade who needs a large amount of supplies, so I want to establish a trading company that specifically caters to his needs. In the future, we can expand operations. Once we secure our first deal, running the company will be much easier," Zheng Yifan said, somewhat uncertain about his friends' intentions. This trading company was meant to serve him. After all the hard work he put in to earn that money, it was only natural he wanted to establish a foothold in the Apocalyptic World. With hundreds of thousands of people in the Gathering Place, the resources needed for daily sustenance could pile up like mountains. Not to mention the trade in Cold Weapons—how quickly could a blacksmith forge molds? It was a joke.
At the very least, he needed to qualify to create his own Chamber of Commerce and then sell goods. The impact of Zombie Crystal on him was immense; with just Captain America's abilities, he could already take on a dozen ordinary people. If he unleashed his full potential, facing a hundred foes wouldn’t be a dream anymore. What incredible powers might he gain in the future?
"An import-export trading company? That requires a lot of licenses. It would be better if it were just an ordinary trading company," Tang Hao immediately pointed out the key issue. An ordinary trading company could be registered through an intermediary without needing to worry about capital verification. In the end, paying a few thousand dollars would suffice; even if they needed to advance one million, they would only need to pay a fraction of that.
"We don’t have to start with import-export trade right away. We can wait until we need it or until our transaction volume is sufficient before getting the licenses," Zheng Yifan suggested in advance.
At that moment, the chubby guy chimed in: "Exactly! Once our business is on track and we have some leverage, I’ll ask my Uncle for help; he’ll definitely get us the licenses."
Everyone was pumped up and ready to get started.
"Alright! I’ll go find my friend and finalize this matter soon; his business is thriving right now. There’s no way he’ll leave us without something to eat," Zheng Yifan decided to contribute some resources from this apocalyptic world. At least with a few friends supporting him, he could spend more time managing things during these dire times, while they could handle purchasing real-world supplies.
In this world, sharing benefits is key; otherwise, one risks hitting dead ends. As long as there’s an apocalypse, how much money one has is merely a matter of time.
Comment 0 Comment Count