The Delivery

Late at night, Wang Yang slung an arm around Long Ming's shoulder and steered him down the street, chatting and grinning the whole way. "Let me tell you, don't go changing your phone number. If you pull another vanishing act on me, don't blame me for spreading rumors about you behind your back." "Get lost!" Long Ming rolled his eyes at him. "Haha, I'll quit yapping then. I'm off!" "You've been drinking. Let me call you a driver." "Driver, my ass. Two bottles of beer is basically water. I'll just get in the car—" Wang Yang cut off mid-sentence, his face going slack with confusion. He was staring at the car parked at the curb. All four wheels were gone, and the chassis was propped up on a stack of bricks. Wang Yang rubbed his eyes, half convinced he'd drunk himself stupid. Unfortunately, reality was bone-dry sober: his wheels had well and truly been stolen. "Fuck, my wheels!" Wang Yang nearly jumped out of his skin, his face turning black as he swore. Long Ming sighed and said, helpless, "I told you it wasn't safe around here. I told you to park in the lot. You just wouldn't listen." "How was I supposed to know the Lower City was this cursed?" "All right, all right. At least it's only the wheels. They didn't strip out your engine." "So what am I supposed to do now?" Wang Yang looked at Long Ming with a miserable face. "I'll call my neighbor. He's a mechanic. We'll see if he has tires that fit your car." Long Ming picked up his phone with a sigh and dialed Zhou Hao. The call connected quickly, and a thick, rough voice came through. "Long Ming." "Brother Zhou, do you have Aoyue tires? A friend of mine has a problem with his car and needs a set." "What do you know, a shipment just came in. How many do you need?" "Four!" "Where are you? I'll bring some men over." "Haichang West Street!" "Wait there!" "Okay." Long Ming hung up. A short while later, a beat-up old van pulled up and parked behind Wang Yang's car. The doors opened, and a burly man in a short-sleeved shirt, his broad face lumpy with flesh, jumped out with two strong-looking employees. They briskly opened the trunk and hauled out four secondhand tires. Wang Yang studied those four used tires. The more he looked, the more familiar they seemed. Then it hit him, and he shouted in shock, "Fuck, aren't those my tires?" Long Ming started at that too, a strange look crossing his face. It couldn't be that much of a coincidence, could it? "What do you mean, your tires? We bought these." Zhou Hao answered irritably. "Bullshit, these are my tires. Give them back right now, or I'll report you for theft." Wang Yang was beside himself with anger. "Hm? What did you just say?" At Wang Yang's words, Zhou Hao and his men stepped forward with savage looks. "What are you doing?" Wang Yang's heart lurched, and he backed away in alarm. His head aching, Long Ming tried to smooth things over. "Brother Zhou, my friend doesn't know any better. Let's talk this through." "Hmph. If it weren't for your sake, Long Ming, I'd have beaten the crap out of him today." "Thanks, Brother Zhou. But could you sell them to us a little cheaper?" "Half price. Cheap enough for you?" "Half price is too much. Brother Zhou, if I'm not mistaken, you probably picked these tires up at about twenty percent of the retail price. How about this—cut us a deal and sell them at thirty percent." "Thirty percent? That's way too low!" Zhou Hao's brows drew together, none too pleased. "Brother Zhou, you know as well as I do that these belong to my brother here. If he really makes a fuss, it'd be trouble for you too. Better to earn a little less." Long Ming suggested. "Fine. For your sake, thirty percent it is. Four tires, twelve hundred for you!" Seeing how Long Ming had put it, Zhou Hao gave in and settled for a smaller profit. "Then please help us get them on, Brother Zhou. I'll transfer you the money." Long Ming let out a small breath of relief when Zhou Hao agreed. "Sure!" Zhou Hao and his men picked up their tools and mounted the tires. A short while later the wheels were back on the car. Zhou Hao and the others took their money and left. Wang Yang said to Long Ming, his face dark, "Long Ming, why did you pay them? For all we know, they're in on the tire theft themselves." "I know. But this is the Lower City. Some things work differently here than in the Upper City. Just treat this as a lesson learned." Long Ming said calmly. In fact, when he had first moved to the Lower City he'd hit a wall at every turn and been cheated more than once. Only later, as he gradually adapted, had things started to improve. "Whatever. I'm heading out then. And I'm not paying you back for the tires—it was your turf where I lost them." "Fine. Drive slow." "Bye." Wang Yang got in and drove off. Long Ming stood where he was, quietly watching the car fade from sight, then turned and walked away. Two days later. Long Ming sat at his computer reading up on Civilization Paradise, his brows knitted into a knot. The game's popularity had reached unprecedented heights. The internet was flooded with people begging to buy helmets. An ordinary game helmet was now being scalped for a hundred thousand—five times its original price—and even so, plenty of people with money still couldn't get one, because the first batch of helmets was limited. And from netizens' comments, Long Ming had also learned something else: the game apparently wasn't operated by Shanchengshan alone. Word was that other shelter cities had opened the same game. That left Long Ming a little puzzled. Since when had these shelter cities been on such good terms that they'd run a game together? Still, he wasn't in the mood to dig deeper. Tomorrow was launch day, and there was still no word from Wang Yang. Long Ming grew more and more uneasy. Playing a little later would be fine, he supposed, but going in late definitely put you at a disadvantage. Buzz~ His phone rang, and the screen lit up with an incoming call from "Jerk." Long Ming answered at once and asked anxiously, "Wang Yang, how is it? Did you get one?" But the line was dead quiet. Wang Yang didn't say a word for the longest time. "What's going on now? Say something!" Long Ming urged. "Ah... sorry, brother. This game's too popular. I really couldn't get one." "That's fine, I understand. Just transfer the money back to me." "Sorry. No money left." Wang Yang replied, cheeky as ever. "Hey, hey, don't joke about that. That's the money keeping me alive." Long Ming reminded him, exasperated. Not that he really believed Wang Yang would pocket his money. He knew his brother's character well enough. "Open your door right now. A delivery guy will be there with a package any second." Wang Yang told him, laughing. Long Ming was just about to say something when a knock came at the door. Knock knock~ Still holding the phone, Long Ming walked over and opened up. As the door swung open, he found himself facing a young man in a Flash Delivery uniform, holding a very tightly wrapped package. "Are you Mr. Long Ming?" "Yes." "This is your delivery. Please sign for it!" "Okay, thanks." Long Ming signed his name, took the package, and went back inside. Wang Yang asked cheerfully, "You got it?" "I got it. Didn't you say you couldn't buy one?" "Right. I couldn't—I'm useless—but that doesn't mean other people can't. I got someone else to help." "Your connections really are something else." "It's not me who's something else. It's you!" "Huh? What do you mean by that? What's going on?" "Forget it. I've got stuff to do. Hanging up." "Explain yourself!" Long Ming pressed him, but the little punk just played dead and kept his mouth shut. The next second the call was cut off and the busy tone droned in his ear. "This guy's being a jerk again, and he won't even explain. Whatever. I'll ask him later." Long Ming looked at the ended call and sighed helplessly. He didn't dwell on it. He carried the package toward the bedroom. The place Long Ming rented was about sixty square meters: one bedroom, one living room, a kitchen, and a bathroom. Long Ming spent most of his time in the bedroom, though. The living room was usually just a place to pile up odds and ends. Soon he was in the bedroom. He found a knife and carefully cut open the box, taking out a black helmet wrapped up with great care. (End of Chapter)