Chapter 1: Skewered Mutton Peddler

In the agricultural trade market of Zhonghai City’s Western District, the streets were filled with a noisy hustle and bustle as evening fell. The ground was slick with vegetable leaves and flowing sewage, flanked by weathered shop signs and the occasional flash of monotonous neon lights. Workers heading home, children on school vacation, elderly residents buying groceries, and weary passers-by all seemed even more forlorn under the dusky sky.

Perhaps in an international metropolis like this, such a rundown corner mirrored the stains people tried hardest to hide, wishing they didn’t exist at all.

Near a low wall by the intersection, a young man leisurely engaged in what many would consider a rather unseemly occupation: he was a mutton skewer vendor.

He wore a white undershirt stained black with grease everywhere, paired with a pair of baggy brown shorts and stereotyped blue plastic slippers. His hair was somewhat messy, but beneath it lay a handsome, rugged face with regular features. If anyone took a closer look, they could spot a distinct manly charm. Unfortunately, no matter what they looked like, girls passing by on the avenue wouldn’t even spare him a glance—simply because he was nothing more than a mutton skewer seller.

The young man had just finished grilling a fresh batch of meat skewers. In the heavy summer heat, grilling was easy work, but selling was tough. Even though they were cheap at two skewers for 50 cents, after standing there all day he only made a few dollars—just enough for a couple of meals. Yet, there wasn’t much depression on his youthful face; instead, he wore a satisfied and carefree expression. Sitting back on a small, backless stool, he watched the bustling, anxious traffic flow by. To him, such a scene was the most beautiful scenery.

“Hey! Old Li, didn’t you agree to hand it over a couple of days ago?”

A sharp, duck-like voice rang out from nearby. Walking over were three youths who looked to be under 20, sporting rascally appearances with spiked hair, silver metal chains, and torn jeans. Their faces were somewhat thin, and they all had cigarettes dangling from their mouths.

Old Li was a peddler who sold deep-fried street food right next to the young man. Just like the mutton vendor, business had been slow in the scorching heat, and he was sitting there worrying.

“This……” Old Li’s face crumpled. “My young master, you’re working hard looking after me, but with this scorching heat, business has been terrible. How am I supposed to pay you right now…”

“I said, Old Li, don’t try to save face. With our Brother Feng covering you around here, your outdoor stall would’ve been shut down ages ago,” a flunky chimed in, trying to threaten and flatter at the same time.

The one called Brother Feng, a hoodlum, looked very self-satisfied. Grinning and sneering at Old Li, he said, “Today’s protection money, whether you give it or not, I’m collecting it. Otherwise, I’ll flip your little outdoor stall right over!”

As he spoke, he grabbed a bunch of sausages, took two big bites, and threw the remaining half onto the ground.

Old Li was at his wits’ end. He desperately reached into his pocket and pulled out some slightly crumpled paper money, planning to hand it over—money that was supposed to go toward buying medicine for his sick wife. Could these vagabond rascals be any more heartless when it came to their “protection fee”?

“I’ll cover it for him,” the young mutton seller suddenly spoke up. He pulled a few hundred-dollar bills straight out of his trouser pocket and handed them over without missing a beat. “That’s settled then. Old Li is old and anxious about money—you guys should try doing a good deed in secret.”

The hoodlum narrowed his eyes, chuckled, and motioned for his flunky to take the bills. “Yang Chen, you always love playing the softie. You haven’t even paid your own protection money yet!”

Yang Chen frowned, thinking it was a pity these kids didn’t study hard when they were young and instead chose to be gangsters. But since he wasn’t their father and didn’t want to stir up trouble, he simply said with indifference, “Tomorrow, tomorrow for sure.”

“Good! I’m not an unreasonable person. As long as everyone cooperates, I protect your business, and you pay me—it’s perfectly justified… I’ve got what I came for, let’s go.”

After promising to come back tomorrow, the hoodlum led his two lackeys away swaggering, heading off to harass stalls in other areas.

By this point, Old Li’s eye sockets were red, and he looked at Yang Chen with deep distress. “Little Yang, why bother? You helped me pay off these lackeys, how can I live with this in my conscience…”

“Old Li, you said it yourself—when I first came here, I didn’t know anyone or anything. Back then, you were the only one who showed me any kindness. Now that you’re in a pinch, it’s my turn to repay you.”

“You young fellow… what am I going to do with you…” Knowing how stubborn Yang Chen was, Old Li could only sigh silently.

Yang Chen smiled carelessly. His smile was faint, but entirely genuine, completely unbothered by the extortion. “Right, how is your wife’s illness?”

Old Li’s eyes filled with gratitude. “Many thanks to you before! We managed to get her into surgery using the money you lent us. After all the checkups and IV drips, she’s doing much better now.”

“That’s good. I wish her a speedy recovery,” Yang Chen nodded with satisfaction.

Old Li forced a smile. “Little Yang, since you lent me your money, my life is practically yours. If I can’t pay it back before I die, I’ll give you my daughter… Oh, because of me, those hundreds of thousands of dollars you spent could have easily opened a proper storefront! Why are you wasting your time selling mutton skewers and putting up with these hoodlums?”

Yang Chen curled his lip. “I actually really like this kind of life. Selling mutton skewers isn’t bad—it’s simple, and it’s enough to put food on the table.”

“I swear, you…” Old Li said in depression, “Little Yang, you’re only twenty-three or twenty-four. Men your age are either still in university or climbing the career ladder. You don’t even have a girlfriend, and yet you’re content just selling mutton skewers? Aren’t you worried at all? I’m worried just looking at you!”

Seeing Old Li’s heartfelt concern, the corners of Yang Chen’s mouth twitched with a hint of bitterness. It wasn’t that he wasn’t anxious—it was just that he hadn’t thought about those things from the start.

After nightfall, Yang Chen packed up his stall and pushed his single-wheel cart back to the dilapidated apartment he rented.

It was an old building of uncertain age where the monthly rent was only a hundred yuan. Because nobody else wanted to live there, it was dirt cheap. While others might have cringed at the thought of the run-down place, Yang Chen saw the cheap price and moved right in.

His room was furnished very simply, filled almost entirely with secondhand items picked up from the street: a bed, a cabinet, a chair, and a television that could only pick up a couple of channels.

Once he brought his stall gear inside, Yang Chen glanced at the wall calendar and suddenly remembered something. Without wasting a moment, he rushed straight into the bathroom.

Five minutes later, Yang Chen stepped out of the bathroom after taking a cold shower. His skin had a healthy wheat tone, and his physique was well-proportioned. Though his muscles weren’t overly exaggerated, a closer look revealed a firm, understated sense of strength.

Walking over to the large wooden wardrobe by the bedside, Yang Chen brushed back his damp hair with a troubled look. He sifted through the pile of messy clothes inside, chose a few pieces, and finally put on a cream-colored shirt, pairing it with lightweight linen pants. On his feet, however, he stayed true to form and wore his trusty plastic slippers.

Stepping outside, Yang Chen headed straight for the liveliest business street in the Western District—the only part of the district that had managed to shake off its poverty and grime. It was known as “Rose Street.”

The debauchery of nightlife was already hanging in the air. Colorful skirts fluttered past, heavy with all kinds of perfume. The moment one stepped onto Rose Street, the vibrant energy of the metropolis washed right over them.

Unlike other young men who either acted flagrantly or tried to sneak peeks at women’s white, alluring thighs, Yang Chen walked straight to the entrance of a bar called “Rose.”

The bar’s neon sign wasn’t blindingly bright, projecting a mid-range, somewhat ambiguous atmosphere with multi-colored rose-shaped lights adorning the billboard.

Entering the bar, Yang Chen expertly wound his way to the bar counter and took a seat at the corner.

“Brother Chen, you’re here!” A young bartender wearing a black suit vest greeted Yang Chen with a warm smile and handed him a glass of water. “Sister Rose has been waiting for you for a long time.”

Yang Chen smiled back, took the glass, and drank some water. “Didn’t mean to keep her waiting, Sister Rose. I went home a bit late today, so I’m running behind.”

“Not angry at all, not angry at all…” Little Zhao’s round face creased into a smile as he leaned in and whispered, “Brother Chen, teach me your secrets. What method did you use to make our Sister Rose fall for you? You have to understand, out of all the men in Zhonghai City—from the Western District all the way to downtown—who have tried to catch our proprietress’s eye, we haven’t seen her care this much about any man in all these years. She’s asked about you more than five times today alone…”

“Stop talking nonsense. I… I don’t have all those things on my mind that you’re thinking of,” Yang Chen replied lightly, giving Little Zhao a sidelong glance.

Little Zhao made a disbelieving face and sobbed dramatically, “Brother Chen, honestly speaking, with your callous charm, you actually managed to capture our proprietress—such an outstanding beauty! Any other guy would stick to her like glue, but you rarely show up even once a day, and you still keep a beautiful woman waiting for you. They say ‘the one who plays hard to get wins,’ and it really works on women too…”

While Little Zhao was putting on his best “romantic philosopher” act with exaggerated praise, a calm, dignified, yet charming voice interrupted from behind him:

“Little Zhao, do you want your wages docked a few more times?”

Little Zhao froze as if a bolt of electricity had just passed through his body. Regaining his composure in a split second, he immediately jumped aside and put on a deadpan, professional bartender voice as if nothing had happened—though the cold sweat on his forehead clearly betrayed the panic in his heart.

A modern, magnificent color-patterned cheongsam with a slit running up to the root of her thighs revealed an alluring sex appeal. Her full chest and slender waist matched a flawless, porcelain-like face, while shoulder-length locks of pale purple hair framed her features.

This stunning young woman leisurely approached Yang Chen.

A smile touched the corners of Yang Chen’s eyes. Without a trace of awkwardness, he looked straight at her and said from the bottom of his heart:

“Sister Rose, you look stunning. Happy birthday.”