Sunrise in the east. A cool summer breeze.
Chen Yansen stood at the entrance of the alley.
Six cardboard boxes and a pile of packing materials were stacked neatly at his feet. In his hand was a tofu-skin roll stuffed with a fried dough stick. He took a deep bite, chewing slowly, clearly enjoying himself.
Fresh chopped chilies. Thick soybean paste. Crispy fried dough.
Perfect.
To the side, Wang Zihao brushed his bangs back again and again, staring at his phone screen. After hesitating for a long time, he finally turned toward his sister.
"Which way do you think is better?"
Sleepy-eyed, head lowered, Wang Ziyan answered without even thinking.
"Right."
"I think left is better."
Wang Zihao nodded decisively at his own reflection on the phone screen, silently praising himself for being handsome.
"Tch."
Wang Ziyan didn't even hide her disdain.
She had expected this answer. People with decision-making difficulties never wanted advice—they just wanted someone else to eliminate one option for them.
"There are only five minutes until seven," Wang Zihao said, checking the time again, his tone growing anxious. "What if Coach Huang doesn't show up?"
"What's the rush?" Chen Yansen said lazily, not even lifting his head. "We still have five minutes."
He continued eating his breakfast.
In his previous life, he had dealt with Huang Boxiang plenty of times. The man had a bad temper, sure—but he was honest.
And reliable.
Reselling MP3s and MP4s could easily bring in ten to twenty thousand yuan a day. Hiring a random driver would be risky. Chen Yansen wasn't afraid of bad people—he was afraid of unnecessary trouble.
A smart person avoided risks before they appeared.
Being late didn't matter.
Safety did.
Just then—
Vroom.
An engine roared through the morning fog. A silver Bluebird emerged from the mist and stopped cleanly in front of them.
The dashboard clock read:
6:59 a.m.
"Boss Chen," a voice called out. "Ready to go?"
Huang Boxiang leaned out of the driver's window, his eyes quickly sweeping over the three of them. He looked mildly surprised by how young they were, but didn't comment.
Yesterday, Chen Yansen had booked him for ten consecutive days.
That made him a big client.
Naturally, Huang's tone was noticeably polite.
He was in his early forties, medium build, slightly overweight, wearing a dark-blue work uniform. The words "Da Xiang" were printed boldly on his chest—advertising himself even while driving illegally.
"Master, let's load the goods first," Chen Yansen said. "Can you help?"
"Of course."
Huang Boxiang popped the trunk with a bang, got out, and quickly estimated the space.
"It should fit."
Before Chen Yansen could say anything else, Huang had already lifted a box and carefully stacked it inside.
"What kind of goods are these?" Huang asked casually. "If they're fragile, I'll pad them with foam."
"No need," Chen Yansen replied, glancing at him. "They're sturdy."
Huang's question wasn't random. He was checking for contraband.
When his eyes landed on the label—Meimo MP3 ×100—he finally relaxed.
"Good, good."
Within minutes, everything was loaded.
"Master Huang, we're heading to Chongqiao Town today," Chen Yansen said as he took the passenger seat and fastened his seatbelt.
"Got it, Boss Chen."
The car pulled away smoothly.
In the back seat, Wang Zihao blinked.
Who said Coach Huang had a bad temper? He's gentle as hell.
Then he noticed something else.
Huang kept calling Chen Yansen "Boss Chen."
Understanding dawned immediately.
So that's it. He didn't mention we're driving school students.
Outside the window, breakfast stalls bustled in the distance. Steam rose into the pale morning light. Voices overlapped, lively and warm.
Chen Yansen's gaze slowly unfocused.
He had woken up before dawn.
Within moments, his breathing evened out.
He fell asleep.
"Chen—"
Wang Zihao instinctively leaned forward to wake him.
"Waa—"
Wang Ziyan reacted instantly, clamping a hand over his mouth.
"Brother," she whispered sharply, "keep your voice down."
"Let him sleep a bit longer."
She shot Wang Zihao a warning glare.
"You're siding with outsiders now?" Wang Zihao whispered back indignantly. "Look carefully—I'm your real brother!"
"Shh."
Wang Ziyan gave a thumbs-up, smiling faintly.
Her bright eyes reflected the image of a neatly dressed young man, eyes closed, calm in sleep.
The car fell silent.
Twenty minutes later, the noise outside grew louder.
Chen Yansen stirred and opened his eyes.
"We're almost at the Chongqiao market center," Huang Boxiang said immediately. "Where should I park?"
"Are there banks, large supermarkets, or government units near the entrance or exit?" Chen Yansen asked after a brief pause.
To make this resale work, the stall location was critical.
Market stalls usually fell into two categories:
Officially planned, paid booths—or spontaneous first-come, first-served spots.
Neither worked for him.
Paid booths meant high negotiation costs for short stays.Spontaneous stalls in prime locations were already controlled by local vendors—you'd get bullied if you tried to steal their spot.
Huang Boxiang drove these towns daily. He was practically a living map.
"There's a small clinic at the exit," Huang said. "No banks or supermarkets. But there is a patrol station at the entrance."
Chen Yansen's eyes lit up slightly.
"Can we set up there?"
"At the patrol station entrance?" Huang blinked. "Who dares do that?"
Chen Yansen smiled calmly.
"Master Huang," he said smoothly, "let me introduce myself. I'm the sales manager of Yangcheng Meimo Electronics Factory. This is my colleague, Wang Zihao."
"We're on a business trip promoting our MP3 and MP4 products. We need a suitable display booth."
"Oh," Huang said, suddenly enlightened. "You youngsters start work early."
In his eyes, despite their suits, they looked far too young—early twenties at most.
"My family isn't well-off," Chen Yansen said without blinking. "Starting early eases my parents' burden."
Wang Zihao nearly choked holding back laughter.
Sales manager? Meimo Electronics Factory?
This guy lies like breathing.
"And the girl in the back?" Huang asked, suddenly suspicious.
"She's not our colleague," Chen Yansen said flatly, offering no explanation.
"Normally, no one sets up stalls near the patrol station," Huang said honestly. "But I have seen someone selling pancakes there once. Maybe."
Chen Yansen nodded.
"It doesn't say we can't."
"So we can."
Huang Boxiang froze.
He suddenly realized his thinking speed was completely outmatched.