By now, the young man across from him couldn’t keep up the act any longer.
“You caught me after all.”
“Why pretend to be Japanese?”
Su Fan was genuinely curious.
Given the history between the two nations, anyone who grew up normally in China didn’t exactly harbor warm feelings toward that island country.
Being mistaken for Japanese abroad was practically an insult to one’s face.
“Well, when you’ve ended up homeless, telling the truth just feels like bringing shame to the country…”
The young man chuckled sheepishly.
“Depending on the situation, I could also be Korean, you know, seumnida.”
…This kid was quite a character.
Su Fan was a bit speechless.
Just like how Chinese people tend to lump all blond-haired, blue-eyed folks together as “foreigners,” Westerners couldn’t tell the difference between people from various Asian countries.
A couple of random Japanese or Korean phrases, and he could really fool them.
“You got any strength left?”
The young man looked up, puzzled, and then saw Su Fan gesture toward the bag behind him.
“Carry these to my shop, and I’ll pay you for the labor.”
“No problem, but… can I ask how much?”
“Enough to live comfortably for a while.”
Hearing that, the young man immediately stepped forward and took the bag from Su Fan.
As they walked, he spilled the story of how he’d ended up a drifter here.
He’d believed the hype from certain people—that America was paved with gold, that you could feast on dollar fried chicken, wash dishes, and live in a big villa.
After getting to the U.S. through illegal channels, he had no ID and no work permit, so he could only take under-the-table jobs.
And employers of undocumented workers? They’d exploit you without mercy, outright docking your pay.
But this guy turned out to be surprisingly rebellious. He’d report the restaurant owners to the IRS for tax evasion.
Out of the five places he worked, he reported four.
“They kept saying back home that the minimum wage here is this and that, everyone can afford to eat. But after I got here and worked a whole month under the table, I only got a few hundred bucks.”
“I’ve done construction, dishwashing, renovations—you name it. I’ve gotten more and more hardworking, but the money in my pocket just keeps shrinking. Feels like I paid to come here and be on a labor camp…”
At this point, the young man let out a sigh.
“And when you couldn’t find work, you just… became homeless?”
“Pretty much. But hey, don’t underestimate being homeless. There’s a whole art to it.”
He actually perked up a bit, even sounding a little proud, and started eagerly explaining to Su Fan the most efficient methods for panhandling.
He rattled off which nearby shelters had the best food and the exact times and locations where free meals were handed out, as if reciting a well-memorized list.
“Taking charity meals is basically begging. How did you get past that mental block?”
“Pfft, what’s there to get past? If you don’t admit you’re begging, does that mean you aren’t? Besides, why should I feel any pressure asking them for food?”
“The Old Dowager already paid for it on our behalf.”
Su Fan: …
“Plus, for these businesses and stores, giving us homeless folks their near-expired food is way cheaper than paying for disposal, and they don’t have to hear any nagging from environmental groups.”
“I did my homework on all this.”
Su Fan’s mouth twitched at that.
Did your homework… If you’d put that much effort into studying, you probably could’ve been brought here legitimately as a talent import.
Then the young man’s tone suddenly dipped again, turning a bit wistful.
“Looking at it now, this place isn’t nearly as great as the magazines and online posts made it out to be. Those writers probably never even set foot here, just hyping it up day after day. It’s all nonsense.”
“You thinking about going back?” Su Fan asked casually.
“Pretty much. I came here hoping to make something of myself, but… seems pretty tough now.”
The young man nodded without trying to hide it.
“What about all the money you spent to get here? Don’t you want it back?”
“Consider it a lesson paid for with cash. What else can I do? I can’t get it back anyway. Dwelling on it just gives me a headache. Better to just let it go.”
Su Fan glanced at him and actually detected a hint of philosophical acceptance in his expression.
It had a certain “let go of what’s past” vibe.
“If you’re set on going back, I might have a piece of advice for you,” Su Fan said calmly.
“What kind of advice?” The young man’s eyes lit up.
Anyone who could make a name for themselves here had to have some real skills. Su Fan’s advice, in his eyes, was worth its weight in gold.
“Try to earn some money and put it into real estate.”
“Houses?” The young man seemed confused. “Those have gone up a bit, but they’re for living in, right? Can’t be that expensive.”
“I’m just throwing it out there.” Su Fan didn’t elaborate further.
Not too expensive? You’ve clearly never witnessed the madness of a housing market frenzy.
“But since it’s coming from you, boss, I’ll definitely keep it in mind.” The young man didn’t press further, nodding seriously.
The walk from the shopping center to the antique shop wasn’t long, and soon they arrived.
“Need me to carry it inside for you, boss?”
“No, just leave it here.” Su Fan pulled out a hundred-dollar bill and handed it to him.
“Thanks, boss! May God—uh, I mean, may the God of Wealth bless you!”
The young man took the cash, bobbed his head and shoulders in a grateful bow, spouted a quick blessing, and then took off from the antique shop.
Su Fan watched his retreating figure and couldn’t help but smile.
An interesting character, that one.
Calculating the timeline, the real estate market back home was probably about to explode. If this guy actually listened and went back to invest early, he wouldn’t just make a killing—he’d be well on his way to the upper-middle class.
Come to think of it, Su Fan himself had some money set aside.
Maybe he should look into investing too?
Before Su Fan could ponder further, a sharp pang of hunger hit his stomach.
Sweets only tide you over for so long. To truly feel full, you needed a proper meal.
First things first: grab the wok and spatula.
He pulled the various ingredients from the bag and began prepping them. Before long, tantalizing aromas started wafting from the kitchen.
The chocolate earlier had definitely given him an energy boost, but it had also nearly overwhelmed him with its cloying sweetness.
Now, smelling the savory scent of a real cooked meal, his appetite roared to life.
Su Fan didn’t even bother with a serving plate. The moment the dish was perfectly cooked, he turned off the heat and dug in directly with his chopsticks.
After polishing that off, he fired up the stove again and got back to work with his spatula.
Watching the food sizzle and leap in the wok, Su Fan felt like he was the undisputed King of the Wok in Hollywood.
Of course, he hadn’t forgotten to get a pot of rice going on the side.
As he cycled through washing the wok, turning on the heat, and cooking, the pile of ingredients in the bag dwindled rapidly.
Before long, the sound of the front door opening reached him.
Su Fan didn’t look up; he just scanned with his spiritual sense.
It was Ron.
She stepped inside carrying a takeout bag, her eyes searching for him.
The witch had woken up that morning and grabbed breakfast from the hotel restaurant, only to find Su Fan gone when she came by. With no other choice, she’d returned to the hotel and waited before trying again.
“Master Su?”
Ron was immediately greeted by the delicious smell upon entering. Combined with the faint sound of flames coming from further inside, she guessed Su Fan was cooking.
Not only was he up and moving freely, but he was even cooking?
Just last night, he couldn’t move a muscle. Ron couldn’t help but marvel at his astonishing recovery rate.
But very quickly, her attention was captured by the lively sounds coming from the kitchen.
