I'm a Master in India

Bombay in July was stiflingly hot, and experienced locals knew the monsoon season was coming.

Actually, this year's monsoon was a bit late; in previous years, the heavy rains would have already arrived.

Continuous and abundant heavy rainfall would turn low-lying areas into vast expanses of water.

This was also why Ron wanted to move to a new apartment; his current neighborhood wasn't in a favorable location in terms of elevation.

In addition, the cracks in the apartment walls and the frequent falling debris from the ceiling made him very uneasy.

It was said that just across the street, an entire apartment building had collapsed last year.

According to people who lived there at the time, they would often wake up in the morning with plaster dust from the ceiling on their faces, and the hallways were always littered with newly fallen stones, pieces of wood, and other debris.

Then, during last year's monsoon season, it collapsed, and many people died.

Such accidents are common in India, but the more common they are, the stronger Ron's desire to move became.

He really didn't have much confidence in the government's credibility or infrastructure.

So, while checking on the renovation of his office in the Fort area, Ron also strolled around a few nearby streets.

The scenery here was indeed excellent, with tree-lined walkways, garden villas, and even fewer beggars on the streets.

He planned to move here before the end of the month, which would not only avoid the monsoon season but also make it more convenient for work in the future.

Since both were in the Fort area, Ron walked to Victoria Terminus after inspecting the renovation of the new company.

He had only been exposed to the sun for two minutes, and the shirt on his back was already completely soaked.

Passing by the Flora Fountain, the refreshing and cool mist invigorated him.

But after only a few steps, the scorching air returned. Right there by the roadside, a small vendor was busy adding coal to his stove.

He was wearing a sweat-stained vest, flipping the batter-like food in the pan, the oil sizzling and popping.

Ron felt nothing but admiration and bewilderment; frying food in the sun was not a good idea, and of course, not many people could do it.

"Ron!"

Mary was waving at him from a taxi on the side of the road.

Ron unceremoniously got into the back seat, and the cool air conditioning refreshed his body and mind.

"What made you decide to take a walk in the sun? For those few rupees?"

"I was just measuring my future commute time, but the Bombay sun is indeed a bit too enthusiastic."

"Look at you now; it reminds me of old Gitt's tandoor oven."

Mary handed him a handkerchief, and Ron took it and wiped his forehead haphazardly.

"By the way, why are you alone? Where's Lena?"

"She drank too much last night and hasn't gotten up yet."

"Not being able to witness my masterpiece firsthand is definitely her loss."

"You're really becoming more and more like the boss, huh?"

"You know, I have a piece of real estate that belongs to me, which is very important."

Ron was a little proud; he felt grounded and no longer like a rootless weed.

Mary understood his feelings and gave him an admiring look.

During this brief eye contact, Ron suddenly noticed that Mary was dressed very differently today.

She was wearing a light blue short-sleeved silk shirt, a color she favored, and a rare little white dress on her legs.

Mary in this outfit looked beautiful, lively, and confident, and most importantly, Ron had never seen her wear a dress.

"Honestly, you have a very good figure."

"Thank you, but isn't it a little late to praise me now?"

Mary smiled playfully, then told the driver to stop the car; they had arrived.

The number of people at the train station entrance was still the same as before, and the oncoming heat made Ron frown with anticipation.

"Let's go," Mary said, walking towards the magnificent Gothic building first.

As she strode forward with her slender and well-proportioned legs, her Roman sandals clicked on the road.

There were hundreds of men on the street, and the only two or three who hadn't been staring at her before now started to stare at her as well.

Ron shrugged; he decided that he must personally take Mary home today.

The platforms at Victoria Terminus were very long, with the metal canopy above extending out of sight.

Because it was a terminus station, the train bays were where passengers disembarked. There was no shelter nearby, and pedestrians could move freely.

The exit leading out of the station was also here, surrounded by the train station's administrative offices, ticket windows, passenger lounges, and all kinds of vendors.

Usually, the light here was dim and the noise was chaotic. But today, under the arches at the end of the platform, dazzling billboards illuminated the area.

White background with red letters, Bombay Tourism Information Company, with a phone number below.

Simple and clear, there were six such billboards, arranged in order from left to right under the arches of each platform.

The billboards had light bulbs inside that were always on, ensuring that every disembarking tourist could see them.

Passing through the billboard arcade, there was an even larger sign, which was the reception point of the Bombay Tourism Information Company at Victoria Terminus.

Bright signs, imposing metal arches, brightly lit reception area, and floors clean enough to reflect people's shadows.

Just inside the door was the front desk, where Mary was already standing, smiling and answering questions from several foreigners.

There were several tables and sofas placed on the side, and each table had a "menu" and brochures.

Further inside this area were three private reception rooms, all separated by frosted glass.

To attract guests to sit down, Ron had also installed a coffee machine here.

Old faces like Anand, Vinod, and Sanjay had all put on uniform yellow shirts.

With the addition of name tags, tsk, the waiters at the Taj Mahal Hotel were probably like this too.

"Ron, this place is too beautiful; I can't even bear to touch the table," Anand said, trembling with excitement, stubbornly believing that even the five-star Taj Mahal couldn't compare to this place.

"The things in here cost me a lot of money; tell them not to break anything."

"Don't worry, if those untouchables dare to touch the sofa here, I'll beat them with a stick."

Ron blinked at him. Bro, you're so ruthless that you even scold yourself?

"What about the flyers? Have they been distributed?"

"Look outside; there are yellow shirts everywhere! We also have people on the streets of Bombay, targeting foreigners first as you said."

Following Anand's gaze, Ron indeed saw several familiar faces holding flyers, introducing something to foreign tourists with luggage.

New store openings in India don't have much ceremony, but the sense of presence must be there. With a fixed reception point, the company naturally had to promote it vigorously.

Ron had people handing out flyers both inside and outside the train station. It was a pity that their target customers were foreigners; otherwise, Ron would have wanted to place an advertisement in the newspaper.

Ron had put a lot of effort into this store, bribing officials, spending heavily on renovations, and dispatching a large number of people to distribute flyers.

Even the words on the signboard at the entrance were chosen after Ron had looked at the facades of countless official institutions in Bombay, and he settled on the same font as them.

To tourists who had just arrived, this looked even more official than the official organizations. Those tourism bureaus were dilapidated and run-down, and Ron's store was much cleaner than them.

The tourists coming in twos and threes were the best proof; this was much more attractive than the original makeshift team.

"Ron, there's a phone call for you," Mary at the front desk waved at him.