I'm a Master in India

"The medicine thing?" Harry had somewhat forgotten.

"It's about that Brazilian friend. He's very sick!"

"Oh!" Harry exclaimed, "That poor fellow."

"Yes, his illness requires a continuous and uninterrupted supply of medicine, and in very large quantities. He needs to take it constantly."

"That's unfortunate news, but how much is 'very large'?"

"I'd guess several hundred kilograms, about the size of a car."

"He's very sick!" Harry frowned.

"Indeed, he's pitiful. He always buys medicine with US dollars," Ron said with empathy.

"US dollars?"

"US dollars!"

"That's a bit troublesome, as customs will levy taxes."

"Three percent. My friend thinks that's a good rate. What do you think, brother Harry?"

"I think it's fantastic!"

"Then it's settled."

"No problem, I need to go back and prepare the customs clearance procedures." Harry shifted his obese body, pulling himself out of the chair.

"So soon? I just ordered the dishes."

"This kind of thing isn't easy. For several hundred kilograms, I suggest shipping by sea. You understand, air freight costs are very high. And I happen to have other colleagues at customs..."

"Okay, if my friend thinks the medicine is effective, maybe we can all go out for tea regularly in the future. Invite your colleagues, how about it?"

"No problem, Ron Baba, I guarantee they'll all like you."

Harry wiped the sweat from his face and hurriedly said goodbye and left, seemingly more concerned about this matter than Ron.

Tsk, one by one, so dedicated.

It was he, the one who originally needed someone to do him a favor, who was left with nothing to do.

The courtyard of the Seaside Hotel was beautiful, and sitting on the balcony, one could enjoy the sea breeze.

The dishes were already ordered, so of course, he'd finish eating before leaving.

Overall, things went smoothly today. A short meeting of just over ten minutes put an end to potentially hundreds of sleepless nights or thousands of meaningless phone calls.

Indian officials aren't public servants; they are masters.

What frustrates those upright critics the most is that this corrupt system operates remarkably smoothly within Indian society.

Ron returned to his apartment in the Fortress District in the afternoon. When he opened the door, the first thing he saw was Nya's panicked face.

"Baba, where did you go? Are you going to abandon Nya?"

"How could I? I drank too much last night and stayed at a friend's house."

Seeing her pitiful appearance, Ron couldn't help but laugh.

The fatigue from dealing with Indian officials in the morning was unknowingly diluted.

"Baba, you disappeared for a whole day," Nya said, both crying and laughing.

She hadn't slept all night, lying on the table in the living room, both frightened and scared. She suddenly realized that she couldn't find Ron.

The company in the Fortress District, Victoria Station, none of them. She had also been to the old apartment where they used to live, but it had already collapsed.

Looking at the pile of ruins in the mud, Nya was extremely frightened. She ran back home and stayed at the door, not leaving for a single step.

"Oh dear, I forgot to tell you last night. I definitely won't do it again in the future, okay?"

"Mm!"

Ron smiled and wiped away her tears, then couldn't help but peck her lips.

"Ah!" Nya blushed.

"Haven't you eaten yet?"

She nodded shyly.

"I'll go buy some. You take a good bath and then prepare to rest."

As soon as Ron turned around, Nya reflexively grabbed his arm.

"Don't worry, I'll be back soon, really."

Patting her hand, Ron went out. There was a Sorab restaurant nearby, and their spiced rice paper rolls were famous in Mumbai.

It was often packed, and when Ron came out of the steaming, fragrant restaurant, the streets outside were crowded with people.

After asking the people around him, he learned that the Elephant God Festival was approaching. Coincidentally, the following October was also the Indian New Year, and people had already started celebrating early.

These Indian guys really love these religious activities, and of course, they're also good at protests and demonstrations.

And every time they came out, they would paralyze the nearby streets for half a day. When Ron finally squeezed back home, a wet Nya was already doing her hair.

"Let me do it." Ron was very familiar with this kind of thing, Mary and Lena... cough...

In short, he was good at drying girls' hair.

Little Nya had never enjoyed this kind of treatment before, and Ron's involuntary actions made her both happy and apprehensive.

Baba was the master, after all, and in Uttar Pradesh, servants like that would be beaten to death.

"Baba..."

"Mm?"

"Let Nya do it."

"No need." Ron wrapped her dark hair in a dry towel and rubbed it, then took a sniff.

Mm, it smelled of cinnamon. As he smelled it, he actually felt a little hungry.

"Eat and then rest." After taking care of her, Ron prepared to go to the study to write something.

"I can't sleep alone." She grabbed his sleeve pitifully.

"Then I'll read a book, and you can sleep next to me."

"Mm..." Nya nodded obediently, but her pair of emerald eyes still stared at him, watery.

Last night, she really thought Ron didn't want her anymore.

Now that she had been recovered, even when she lay down, her head subconsciously moved closer to him.

Huh, why did the master smell different than usual?

Nya sniffed her nose, two scents?

On the second day after meeting with Harry and the others, Ron carried two suitcases and visited the former's home near the Naka community.

As government officials, they had welfare housing allocated to them. Depending on the position, the housing conditions were different.

Harry's Naka community was also in South Mumbai, and the location was quite good.

"This is the working capital your friend needs, ten thousand US dollars each."

"Ron, you've been a great help!"

Opening the suitcases, the green US dollars were dazzling.

Harry and Singh exchanged glances with the people around them, and the same two suitcases were sent to Ron.

"Count it, 400,000 rupees each."

"No need, we're brothers, Harry."

"That's right, we're fucking brothers!"

Harry had always believed that US dollars were the most beautiful money in the world, that green color was exciting, just like the green on the Indian flag.

"This is your company's license. I've marked out a few areas; you can choose whatever you want. The rent is 1200 rupees per square meter, which is the lowest price. After a full year, I'll try to help you convert it into a 5-year franchise."

After confirming that there were no problems with the US dollars in the suitcase, Singh also very happily handed Ron a document.

That's the good thing about Indian officials; if they take the money, they will definitely get things done. People in the know call this rule "righteous bribery," a specialty of India.

"Happy cooperation, gentlemen."

"Ron, in the future, can we continue this kind of business turnover?" Harry asked.

"As long as the quota here allows, there's no problem."

"There's definitely no problem." Harry shook his head happily.

Ron smiled, taking it as tacit consent. It seemed that he needed to explain things to Hadkhan.

Back at home, he had originally planned to go to the train station to take a look. But an unexpected phone call disrupted his schedule.

Smith, the first foreigner he and Anand received, had called.