Chapter 46: An Unexpected Turn

After escorting Mo Ya back to her dormitory, Mo Ran walked to where his three-wheeler was parked, rode it home to his rented apartment. As usual, he boiled water, took a shower, and did his laundry. Because he’d spent so much time dealing with Mo Ya’s affairs, by the time he finished everything, it was already two in the morning. Exhausted, he collapsed onto his bed and fell into a hazy sleep almost instantly.

But just as he was enjoying a deep sleep, his alarm suddenly blared, jolting him awake. No matter how tired he was, Mo Ran forced himself up, washed, and set off for the market with his three-wheeler.

Today, he had made arrangements with several butcher stalls in the market, ordering a total of one hundred pounds of lamb. Unexpectedly, to keep him as a steady client, the owners of the three stalls each gifted him a few extra pounds, so he ended up with nearly one hundred and ten pounds in total.

When he returned to his apartment, Mo Ran felt like he was working harder than a model worker. To boost efficiency, he brought in another meat slicer. The two machines stood under the eaves, working simultaneously on either side. Amid the roar of the machines, the cleaned lamb was cut into uniform chunks.

Looking at the iron basins packed full on the floor, Mo Ran felt his arms were nearly numb from the vibration of the machines. He shook his arms vigorously, and when the numbness faded, he began marinating the meat. By the time he finished, it was already nine in the morning.

“No wonder Uncle Zhang doesn’t want to do this. Just the hassle alone—who could stand it?” Mo Ran shook his head, reflecting on his handiwork. Sleeping at two, rising a little after four, starting work at five-thirty, and working nonstop till nine—given the choice, who would willingly take on such toil?

After finishing everything, Mo Ran ate two steamed buns to fill his stomach, then went back to sleep. He planned to rest until the afternoon, then get up and deliver the goods.

In the afternoon, when his phone rang, Mo Ran got up and began loading the marinated meat from under the eaves onto his vehicle. As he had done the day before, he kept ten pounds for himself and delivered the rest.

One hundred pounds of marinated lamb, seven thousand five hundred in revenue, minus a cost of three thousand five hundred—a net profit of four thousand, with a margin over fifty percent. Seeing his phone balance, Mo Ran felt much better. After bidding farewell to Brother Wang and his wife, he hummed a tune on his way home.

Lately, with the crackdown in Shanghai, Mo Ran avoided routes heavily patrolled by traffic police to prevent his three-wheeler from being confiscated, so he took only backroads.

As he drove through a suburban residential area, a girl in a cream-colored casual outfit suddenly darted out from a corner.

Mo Ran reacted instantly—without thinking, he slammed his right foot onto the brake and swerved left, narrowly missing the girl without making contact.

But in the next instant, the smile that had just crept onto Mo Ran’s face froze. Thanks to the inertia of his three-wheeler, though the girl herself remained untouched, the wheels splashed filthy water from the ground, soaking her from the waist down.

Splashes of dirty water scattered across the girl's cream-colored clothes, leaving conspicuous spots, glaring against the pale fabric.

“I'm so sorry, so sorry,” Mo Ran quickly parked his vehicle at the roadside, hurriedly got out, and apologized. Although the girl had run into the road first, in this country the law always favored pedestrians. The priority of public transport was deeply ingrained, so there was no point in arguing about fault; all he could do was apologize.

“Sorry, sorry. I was too rushed,” the girl replied, her face growing even more apologetic as she looked at the handsome young man before her. She even apologized herself.

“You weren’t frightened, were you?” Despite his lingering anxiety, Mo Ran inquired after her.

“No, no, it’s fine. It’s my fault, I was rushing to an interview and didn’t look out for vehicles.” The girl spoke in an increasingly soft voice, clearly embarrassed.

“It’s all right. How much did your outfit cost? I’ll compensate you. After all, I dirtied your clothes.” Mo Ran glanced at the glaring stains dotting her cream-colored outfit and, after a moment’s thought, offered.

“This wasn’t bought by me—I need to check first, I shouldn’t ask for too much,” the girl said, after a moment’s awkward consideration.

“All right, let’s add each other on WeChat. When you find out, just message me and I’ll transfer the amount.” Mo Ran, eager to get to work in the university district, didn’t waste time and immediately displayed his QR code.

“Okay.” The girl nodded, took out her phone, scanned his code, and just like that, they added each other and parted ways at the street corner.

Busy until nightfall, Mo Ran, after tidying up, was about to take Mo Ya back to her dormitory as he had the previous evening when he received a message from the unfamiliar girl from that afternoon.

(Are you there?)—a standard opening line, like any ordinary conversation.

(I’m here.) Mo Ran guessed she’d found out the price of the clothes and replied directly.

(I checked the price. Here’s the tag and the payment record—the whole outfit cost four hundred.) Seeing the message and attached images, Mo Ran couldn’t help but smile. The girl's thoroughness seemed to stem from a fear that he wouldn’t believe her.

(Okay.) Mo Ran didn’t even bother to look closely. Times had changed; in situations like this, it was best to solve problems with money, not words—else more trouble would arise. With a few taps, he transferred four hundred via his phone.

The next moment, his phone buzzed gently. Mo Ran saw a photo from Mo Ya—she’d safely returned to her dorm and sent him a picture, putting his mind at ease.

Sitting in his three-wheeler, Mo Ran felt his phone vibrate again in his pocket. He took it out, glanced at it, and was surprised—the girl was asking if he had time. What was she up to?

(?) After a few seconds, out of courtesy, Mo Ran sent a question mark in reply.

(Tomorrow at one in the afternoon, I have an interview. Can you accompany me?) The girl replied almost instantly, as if she’d been watching her phone the whole time.

(This isn’t really appropriate, is it? We’re just strangers who happened to meet.) Mo Ran was even more puzzled. Was the girl really so bold?

(Um, this interview is really important, and I’m scared to go alone. I don’t know anyone here in Shanghai—after thinking it over, you’re the only person I could ask.) The girl replied, adding an awkward little emoji at the end.

(Give me the address and I’ll contact you at noon.) After considering for a moment, Mo Ran agreed.

(Okay, it’s a deal. The company is Dahua Food Company.) The girl replied...