Compared to the looming expedition into the ruins of Detroit, matters like vacuum-sealed kitchen slop and the science of pig farming were trivial footnotes. After sending a 200-yuan red packet to Aunty Fatty as a deposit for the packaging, Michael plunged headlong into a frenzy of procurement.
Manual excavation? The thought alone was daunting. Who knew how long it would take to dig out the underground lab with shovels and picks? And even if they found the thawing solution, would there be enough time left to unearth the fabled militarist gold reserve? No. Speed was paramount.
Thus, Michael decided to invest in machinery. An excavator. Two front-end loaders. The idea was to turn brute force into a mechanical advantage. He hailed a cab and directed it to the sprawling machinery market on Guangzhou's outskirts. His destination was the sales office of Sany Heavy Industry. It wasn't necessarily that Sany produced the bestmachinery in China, but as a native of Hunan province, Michael felt a provincial loyalty to the homegrown brand.
Perhaps because he was a young male customer, the Sany sales company dispatched a female salesperson to attend to him. Her name was Luo Fang, a local Guangzhou girl. While her stature was petite, typical of southern women, her skin was surprisingly fair and smooth. Michael's gaze lingered for a moment, appreciating the contrast. Of course, that was all. Just an appreciation.
Once Luo Fang, in her professional OL attire, inquired about his needs, Michael explained his intention to purchase three brand-new machines outright with a full cash payment, and asked about possible discounts.
From that moment, the atmosphere shifted subtly. As Luo Fang began detailing the specifications, she edged closer. The scent of her perfume, strong and floral, wrapped around him. Michael was under no illusions. This wasn't about his charms or rugged good looks. In her eyes, he had instantly transformed into the profligate son of a construction boss—a young man with more money than sense, paying cash for heavy machinery without even considering financing. A prime, juicy target.
What she didn't know was that Michael had no choice. This notoriously frugal young man, who would normally pinch a penny until it screamed, had initially considered buying second or even third-hand equipment. After all, these were likely to be one-time-use items in the infected hellscape of Detroit. Getting them inwould be a chore; getting them outagain seemed a fantasy. But the used machinery market was a murky swamp. Without expertise, he'd likely end up with lemons. A breakdown mid-excavation could be catastrophic. Some expenses, he realized with a pang, simply couldn't be avoided.
After about ten minutes of browsing—time was of the essence—Michael made his choices. Under Luo Fang's guidance, he even clumsily operated the controls of a few machines. Moving them forward and backward wasn't rocket science; if you could drive a car, you could manage the basics.
One SY215C-9 medium excavator. After the "full payment discount," the price was 880,000 RMB. Two SYL985H heavy front-end loaders, 320,000 RMB each. The total for his efficiency upgrade: a cool 1.52 million RMB.
It was, without a doubt, the single largest expenditure of Michael's 26 years. A lifetime of frugality rebelled. "Miss Luo," he said, a reflexive haggling instinct kicking in. "Can you do a little better on the price? If you can, I'll transfer the money right now."
The look in Luo Fang's eyes grew even more liquid, convinced now more than ever of his 'rich second-generation' status. "Oh, Boss Niu~" she cooed, her voice dripping with faux helplessness. "The price really is the best I can do, company policy, you know? But…" she leaned in conspiratorially, "how about I treat you to dinner tonight? Maybe some drinks at a bar afterward? My personal thanks~"
"Forget it," Michael said, his tone suddenly turning businesslike and proper. "Let's just do the transfer. Have them delivered to my warehouse later."
This wasn't a rejection born of Luo Fang's lack of appeal, but a simple matter of scheduling. His portal cooldown was ticking. There was no time for bars or dinners. If only I'd had time to buy this stuff earlier,he thought ruefully as he initiated the bank transfer, completely ignoring the fact that 'earlier,' he hadn't possessed the funds.
The machinery company's efficiency was impressive. Before Michael could finish the complimentary milk tea Luo Fang had 'personally' bought for him, the excavator and loaders were already being loaded onto transport trucks. He hitched a ride in the passenger seat of the lead truck, directing the convoy to his logistics park warehouse.
In the short time drinking that tea, he'd been passively added to a slew of WeChat contacts and given out his number—not just to Luo Fang, but to several other salespeople, male and female. A cash-paying client was a prized resource in any industry.
Maneuvering the three behemoths into the warehouse himself, Michael immediately saw the once-spacious area begin to feel crowded. But for his shopping spree, this was just the opening act.
Buying the machinery was one thing; getting his crew of wastelanders to operate it was another. He'd envisioned them practicing on the perimeter defenses of the town, killing two birds with one stone. Then he did the math on fuel consumption and nearly choked. High-intensity operation for twelve hours? The excavator alone could drink 200 liters of diesel. A whole tanker truck of fuel might not be enough to train a single competent operator. The only silver lining was that diesel prices weren't at a peak.
His brief test drive also revealed another necessity: for the actual expedition, he'd need a lowboy trailer. Excavators weren't tanks; their travel speed was glacial. This meant another visit to the used car dealer, the young widow Ah Juan, was in order. More business for her.
His plan was taking shape: one heavy-duty 8x4 trailer for the excavator, and about ten Wuling microvans. The former was for transport; the latter were for rapid deployment. His choice of Wulings was reinforced by the glowing reviews from his security team. He'd once naively thought the vans could only carry a ton. During the well-digging project at Coal Cinder Town, he'd seen a Wuling's cabin packed with over four tons of gravel. What other vehicle offered weather protection, massive space, and legendary load-bearing capacity for the wasteland? Oh, and they were dirt cheap.
However, conversations with friends had enlightened him: his previous purchase of a used Wuling from Ah Juan had been a rip-off. Before finalizing the trailer deal, Michael decided it was time to adjust their business relationship and perhaps secure her help for other errands.
He made the call. "Ah Juan? Do you have a lowboy trailer? For an excavator?"
"Have it? Of course I have it!" came the immediate, enthusiastic reply from the other end. Even if she didn't have one on the lot, she could source it. For the right price, she could get anything.
"Good," Michael said. "Also, get some Wuling vans ready. I'll come look tomorrow, and if the price is right, I'll take them all. But come over to my place now. I need a favor."
There was a slight hesitation. A flicker of apprehension. But the scale of the potential deal—it could match her sales for the last three months combined. "Okay, I'll be right there," she agreed. Before leaving, she carefully placed a can of pepper spray in her purse.
Following the location Michael sent, she arrived at the warehouse at the edge of the logistics park. Getting out of her car, she kept one hand buried in her bag, fingers clenched around the spray canister. Then she saw the machinery inside the warehouse—a shiny, brand-new excavator and two loaders, the yellow paint gleaming under the warehouse lights. The word was they'd been paid for in full, on the spot.
Her grip on the pepper spray loosened. A'biao… no, Michael,she corrected herself. Under that rough, almost slacker exterior, he's actually this capable?First the pig farm, and now he's moving into construction? Real estate? A different kind of warmth, mingled with calculation, stirred within her. Perhaps getting closer to a rough-around-the-edges, newly-moneyed man like this wouldn't be such a bad thing…
But nothing happened. She wasn't even invited inside the warehouse. Instead, Michael emerged carrying a large plastic bag. He handed it to her. It was full of colorful, lace-trimmed women's stockings, the synthetic fabric carrying a distinct, mingled scent of perfume and… something else.
"Please mail these for me," he said, handing her a slip of paper with handwritten addresses. "Express delivery, to these places."
Ah Juan took the bag, the weight of the stockings feeling odd in her hands. She looked at Michael, then at the bag, then back at Michael. The earlier warmth and calculation in her eyes evaporated, replaced by a complex mixture of disappointment, bewilderment, and a flicker of… understanding.
So that's his thing,she thought, a sigh escaping her lips. These rich guys, they all have their quirks.As she drove away, a new resolution formed. Next time she came to 'help,' she'd wear a pair herself. Stockings in Guangzhou's sweltering heat might look strange, but if that's what the nouveau riche boss was into, who was she to judge? Michael, it seemed, had a type. And it came packaged in fishnet and lace.