I'm a Master in India

Johnny arrived on a motorcycle, an Enfield Bullet, a single-cylinder, four-stroke, large-displacement bike.

This thing was the supreme object of desire for almost every boy in Mumbai; it was not only cool but also very practical.

In the crowded and chaotic streets, it could easily weave through the gaps in the crowds, and it could also speed wildly on the deserted Marine Drive at midnight.

Johnny proudly revved the throttle, and the roar of the engine unsurprisingly attracted Ron's admiring gaze.

"It's beautiful, and not too thirsty. Want to get one? I know people at the dealership, I guarantee you a good price."

"Fantastic!" Ron admired, touching the wildly styled frame. "But this bike has a temper, it's not suitable for me."

Every man yearns for the exhilarating speed of racing, that feeling of riding the wind is a rare pleasure. It's just that it usually comes with a near-death experience, and he's not that radical.

"You're missing out on the best weapon for attracting girls," Johnny said, regretting his decision.

"Tell me, do you have good news for me?" Ron shifted his attention away from the motorcycle.

"Hadbai said Mrs. Elizabeth agreed."

"I don't mean to pry, but I'm curious what they talked about?"

"A deal, a deal about big shots. Hadbai will introduce clients to Mrs. Elizabeth."

Ron understood. Mrs. Elizabeth, who had just set foot in Mumbai, urgently needed to integrate, and Hadbai could open the door for her.

This was probably a circle of gangsters, councilors, and wealthy people. Ron wasn't qualified yet; he didn't even know what Mrs. Elizabeth looked like.

He wasn't overwhelmed by anger, nor did he foolishly clamor for revenge. That would only be asking for trouble.

He craved power, craved more wealth, and craved to seize every opportunity, like the one before him.

"What do I need to do next?" Ron asked.

"Nothing, no one will interfere with your business. The owner of that textile factory will contact you soon," Johnny patted him on the shoulder.

"What about the travel agency?"

"Hadbai is meeting with an official next week, you'll be together then."

"Okay," Ron nodded in agreement.

In just a few words, he already understood the unspoken rules of this deal. The textile factory was one business, and the travel agency was another.

Ron wanted that land, and the price was that he would help Hadbai develop the travel agency business. Hadbai used his connections to get Mrs. Elizabeth to give up interfering with the textile factory.

Everyone got what they wanted, each had their own desires.

Good, although it took a detour and carried some risks, it also reduced a lot of trouble.

From now on, no gangsters would harass him at the textile factory, because Hadbai had endorsed this deal with his formidable reputation.

"How are things with Pavati?" With the key matter settled, Ron relaxed and leaned against the streetlight, chatting with him.

"Very good, the three of us often go on dates together!"

"Three?" Ron's brain short-circuited a little. "Why three?"

"Because there are three people."

"Three people dating together?"

"Yes."

"You're dating two girls at the same time?" Ron was shocked. So, besides him, there were others who could handle two girls at the same time.

"No, Ron. Every time we go on a date, Pavati brings her mother with her. It's Kumar's wife, Auntie Tita. She sits between us, so it's three people dating together."

"Sounds like..." Ron scratched his head, "...seems... interesting?"

"Yes, very interesting! Of course it's interesting, too interesting! When I stuff some food and drinks to Auntie Tita, I can look at Pavati, and she can look at me, this is our strategy."

"Auntie Tita has a big appetite, she eats non-stop for three hours in a movie. So I have to keep serving food so I can stare at Pavati and smile at her. Thank God, a movie can't satisfy Auntie Tita at all."

"Old man Kumar can't satisfy Auntie Tita either," Ron nodded with deep feeling, and Johnny laughed.

"Wait, are there many people over there?" Ron pointed into the distance.

A group of people, hundreds, thousands, rounded the street corner and walked onto the wide Marine Drive. They crossed the road and headed towards Ron and Johnny.

"God! I hope it's not a riot," Johnny, who was as strong as an ox, couldn't help but gasp when he saw the crowd.

Those people were extremely angry, men and women shouting slogans excitedly while waving their fists. Their necks and shoulders were stiff with anger, and their stubborn faces were full of pain and anger.

They repeatedly shouted the name of Lord Rama, demanding revenge, demanding to teach the Muslims a lesson.

As the surging crowd approached Ron and Johnny, they were very nervous. Someone saw the sacred thread on Ron's wrist and patted him on the shoulder, encouraging him to join the demonstration.

Most people, with bloodshot eyes, were searching for targets on the streets. They were looking for those wearing white caps and veils, their eyes full of hatred and coldness.

Ron had no doubt that if he and Johnny were Muslims, they would be torn to pieces by the angry crowd at this moment.

"Mumbai is going to be in chaos!" Johnny sighed worriedly.

"What happened?" Ron didn't pay much attention to sectarian news; the news he usually read came from the economic sector.

"The Babri Mosque in Uttar Pradesh has been destroyed. Hindus and Muslims are already at war there, and soon this war will sweep the country."

Johnny was very certain. As a native-born Indian, he was too aware of the deep-seated hatred between the two factions.

As long as there was a fuse, coupled with the instigation of radicals, conflict would inevitably erupt.

"Don't go out recently! I'm going to find Pavati!" Johnny revved the throttle and quickly passed the surging crowd, disappearing at the end of the road.

Shit! Ron hated this kind of riot because it meant that Mumbai's tourism business would come to a complete standstill.

Even worse than the rainy season, because riots meant death and destruction, and no foreigner would be willing to risk coming to Mumbai at this time.

He had to tell Nya not to go out recently, as well as Mary and Lena. Oh, and Kavia's place too.

But before that, he wanted to settle the land issue. To avoid any complications, he had to find Sharma as soon as possible.

Ron was shocked when he saw Sharma again. His ears were bandaged, and there were obvious bruises on his eyes and nose. His originally pot-bellied figure had also thinned a lot.

"Buddy, you look terrible."

"It's okay, it's all over," Sharma waved his hand casually, as if he had unloaded some burden.

The place where they met was still the same residence as last time. This time, Sharma didn't hide anything but openly opened the door and welcomed Ron and the others in.

However, when he saw the tall Vinod and the sturdy men behind Ron, he still flinched subconsciously.

"Don't get me wrong, they're just worried about me."

"I know, it's chaotic outside," Sharma shook his head.

Having suffered once, Ron certainly wouldn't act alone now. Especially with the increasingly tense Hindu-Muslim atmosphere, it was always right to be careful.

In addition to these bodyguards, Ron also brought a lawyer and the company's accountant, Harus. The next process would require them.

"So, have you solved the problems on your side?" Ron gave him a suggestive look.

"Of course, without those bastards blocking me, I can find a lot of connections."

"Then let's begin," Ron didn't waste any words and directly let the lawyer and Harus start auditing the materials on the table.

Since being released by Mrs. Elizabeth's men, Sharma quickly received Ron's call.

The subsequent matters were simple. Since there was a gangster boss guaranteeing it, Sharma also began to exercise his methods without any scruples.

He had been operating in Mumbai for many years and was well-versed in various operations. Soon, the bank signed the mortgage contract termination agreement.

Today, Ron came to complete the final step of the transaction, signing the sales contract.

After receiving the signal from the lawyer and Harus, Ron finally showed a smile. He happily picked up the contract and signed his name. Sharma was even more impatient than him.

"This is US dollars, the same as we agreed last time," At Ron's signal, Vinod placed a black suitcase on the table.

"Happy cooperation, Baba!" Sharma was dazzled by the green bills.

"Goodbye! Also, I wish you have ten daughters, and each daughter has a good marriage!"

Ron left the most polite and vicious curse in the Indian business world, giving Sharma a good insult. Unless you are very rich, ten daughters will definitely bankrupt you.

Vinod and the others laughed, but Sharma cursed inside the house. This guy was a black-hearted capitalist, even blacker than Ron!

On the way back, Ron clearly felt that the streets of Mumbai were much more desolate. The hawkers who used to sell along the street and the swarming beggars were now nowhere to be seen.

Perhaps these poor people struggling at the bottom could more keenly feel the atmosphere of an impending storm.

"Boom!" A dull thud of something collapsing came from a distance, and the people in the car subconsciously looked over.

The crowds roared like a tsunami, running, shouting, chasing...

Mumbai's winter had arrived.