Chapter Ten: Divorce

Xu Fei felt that his luck had truly run out. No—he corrected himself—it was this Xu Fei, the one he had become. How could he possibly have so many enemies? He couldn't comprehend how this Xu Fei had survived until this episode.

Take his relationship with Big Guy, for example. The two had clashed over a bet not long ago—just because Xu Fei had called him a dumb pig, the guy had fought him right then and there.

"Boss Wang, who is this guy to me?" Xu Fei asked.

"Xu Fei, from today he's one of our workshop. You take him under your wing," Wang Guoqing replied.

"Alright, don't worry. I'll look after him well," Xu Fei said.

Big Guy stood up, towering over Xu Fei by more than a head—he was like a looming tower.

"You, come with me," he ordered.

Wang Guoqing glanced at the still-rooted Xu Fei. "What are you staring at? Go on, follow him!"

Xu Fei took a deep breath; it was clear that Big Guy had nothing pleasant in store for him.

Leaving Wang Guoqing's office, Big Guy strode ahead and growled, "My name's Zhang Dajun. Everyone here calls me Big Guy."

Xu Fei grunted in acknowledgement.

"I’m—"

"Xu Fei, right?" Big Guy interrupted.

Xu Fei was surprised; evidently, the man had already heard of him.

"About last time," Zhang Dajun continued, "I’ve been asking around about you since then. Found out you’re just unlucky. I’m not a bully, so I didn’t bother you."

Suddenly, Zhang Dajun spun around. Xu Fei, unable to stop, crashed right into him. The two stood barely a fist’s length apart.

Xu Fei stared at Zhang Dajun; Zhang Dajun glared back.

Whoosh—Zhang Dajun’s breath stirred Xu Fei’s hair.

If Big Guy really hit him, Xu Fei estimated he’d be laid up for half a month.

He edged back a step.

"Haha, scared?" Zhang Dajun laughed.

Xu Fei thought to himself: Only a fool wouldn’t be.

"Alright," Zhang Dajun said, "we’re all here to work. Public matters are public, private matters are private. Our business—we’ll settle it outside the factory. From today, you follow me. I won’t promise much, but I guarantee you’ll earn money."

He patted Xu Fei’s shoulder.

"Though, with your skinny frame, are you up for it?"

"I’m up for it," Xu Fei replied.

Zhang Dajun smiled again.

"As long as you can work."

They skirted a pile of materials. Zhang Dajun stopped before a mound of raw supplies.

"See that?" he asked.

Xu Fei nodded.

In front of him lay a stack, as tall as a man, piled up in burlap sacks.

"Five cents a sack, piecework. The more you do, the more you earn. There are ten tons here. You need to stack all these before the end of your shift," Zhang Dajun said, gesturing to the empty space nearby.

"Just me?" Xu Fei asked.

"What do you think? Want me to get you a girl to help?" Zhang Dajun retorted.

Xu Fei pursed his lips, stung by the sarcasm.

"Alright, get to it," Zhang Dajun said, assigning the task before heading back toward the office.

"My good nap ruined," Xu Fei muttered, watching Zhang Dajun’s retreating figure and then eyeing the pile of sacks.

Ten tons? That must be at least a hundred sacks. Five cents per sack—that’s five yuan. Not bad. The average worker earned only twenty or thirty yuan a month. If he finished this in a day, it’d be as much as others made in four or five days.

Do it!

Xu Fei stepped forward and hefted a sack.

It weighed about two hundred pounds. He barely managed to lift it off the ground before he had to set it down again.

He had never carried anything so heavy before.

But for money!

Gritting his teeth, Xu Fei embraced the sack and staggered toward the spot Zhang Dajun had indicated.

Though it was only a few dozen meters, by the time Xu Fei laid the sack down, he was drenched in sweat.

He had thought to eat more that morning, knowing he'd be working hard. But he’d only had a few sips of porridge, which had long ago been depleted.

Xu Fei jogged back to the pile. If he finished early, maybe he could ask Big Guy for more work. With luck, he might make a full ten yuan in a day.

Fight for it!

At that moment, Wang Guoqing stood by the window, watching Xu Fei struggle with the sacks, a cold smile on his lips.

"That kid’s something. This is the toughest job in the workshop, and you gave it to the newcomer. Aren’t you afraid he’ll be worn out and quit after a day?" he asked.

Zhang Dajun lounged on the bench.

"He offended you, Boss Wang."

Wang Guoqing glanced at Zhang Dajun.

"You know?"

"Who around here doesn’t know about Xu Fei? He went after Wang Chao last time. I don’t believe you’d swallow that insult, Boss Wang."

Wang Guoqing walked over to Zhang Dajun.

"I wasn’t wrong about you. You look rough, but you’re sharp."

"Enough flattery, Boss Wang. Eight cents a sack. Just remember to count his three cents for me."

"Don’t worry, I won’t forget."

Xu Fei could never have imagined that Wang Guoqing was the father of the young Wang who had caused the death of Xu Fei’s parents. Nor did Zhang Dajun truly look after him. Eight cents per sack, but Zhang Dajun pocketed three cents from Xu Fei’s wages without lifting a finger.

Before lunch, Xu Fei stacked the last sack. Sweat soaked his entire body.

Xu Fei, who in his previous life was a billionaire whose car doors were opened by others, had, in this life, stacked a hundred sacks for five yuan.

He would never have believed he could do it.

People really are animals driven by desperation. There’s nothing one can’t accomplish when pressed.

"Lunch time," called the workers heading out of the workshop.

Xu Fei had barely enough strength left to breathe. He leaned against the pile, gazing at the roof, his mind blank.

He missed the days of his past life.

Rebirth wasn’t as fun as he’d imagined.

Right now, he just wanted a bite of steamed bread—even with plain water, it would taste sweet.

As he was thinking this, the aroma of steamed bread drifted to his nose.

Was he dreaming?

He must be exhausted.

He sniffed again. Following the scent, he sat up and saw a lunchbox of steamed bread appear before him.

"Duman? Why are you here?"

His wife was standing there, holding the open lunchbox. Inside were three snow-white steamed buns.

"I knew you didn’t eat much this morning, so I steamed a few and brought them for you," she said.

Xu Fei only wanted to say: There’s nothing better in this world than a wife!

He grabbed one and took a big bite.

Fragrant! Sweet!

He didn’t even bother to chew properly—he swallowed it in one gulp.

"Slow down, don’t choke," Duman said, handing him a thermos of hot water.

After wolfing down two buns, Xu Fei felt revitalized.

Now energized, he frowned and asked, "Where did the white flour come from?"

He knew his family’s situation. There was only a layer of rice at the bottom of the jar; that morning, Duman had made porridge from it.

"I got it from my mother’s house," she replied.

"You went back to your parents?" Xu Fei asked.

Duman nodded, but Xu Fei saw a hint of grievance in her eyes.

Ever since Xu Fei had stopped working, her family had all but cut ties with him. Even Duman was looked down upon by her mother, who claimed her daughter was wasted, forbidding her from returning home unless she divorced Xu Fei.