He stood, patted Wu Yu's shoulder like a benevolent father, and added, "And don't forget—go learn from Jin Wu. That guy's got ten years of tricks. Better than me. Well… almost."
With that, Lee Wonho strolled out, leaving Wu Yu and the rookies staring after him like disciples watching their master float off to heaven.
Meanwhile, under the scorching noon sun, a different story was unfolding.
"Faster, faster! One more truck and then lunch!" the foreman bellowed.
Sweat-drenched workers heaved cement bags like ants. Dust stuck to their faces, turning them into pale ghosts.
Among them, Lu Pengtao dropped the last sack, then collapsed against it, panting like a man who had run three marathons. He staggered to a bucket, splashed his face, and sighed.
The foreman marched over, slapped a hundred-dollar bill into his hand, and pointed at the food truck.
"Day's wages. Lunch box over there."
"Thanks."
