Reborn in 2005, starting with repairing mobile phones

At the same time, in Guanlan, at the dormitory area of ​​Yongxin Electronics Factory.

The light from the phone screen illuminated Zhang Mingyuan's deathly pale face. A recent text message appeared on the screen, sent by "Xinda-Heipi":

Mingyuan, this is the last thing I'm saying. Brother Biao has spoken: tomorrow, the alley behind the factory gate. Ninety-three thousand, cash. Not a penny less, and I'll break your arm. Think it over carefully.

My fingers are trembling.

Before he could reply, a new message popped up at the top of the screen, sent by his cousin from his hometown:

Mingyuan, Auntie fainted again today. The village doctor said it's still her old heart problem, and she needs to go to the county hospital for a thorough checkup. Money… do you think of anything? Uncle left behind debts, and they're coming to our house demanding payment.

Two messages, like cold pliers, gripped his throat tightly.

The coworker on the lower bunk was talking loudly on the phone in his hometown dialect, his tone filled with barely suppressed frustration: "...Yeah, the assembly line can't stop! He didn't come again today? Who knows what debt he's hiding from!"

"Damn it, the supervisor said if this affects the team's efficiency again, I'm fired too!"

Every word felt like a needle piercing Zhang Mingyuan's ears.

He knew his coworkers were talking about him.

During the few days he was on leave, rumors and complaints had already begun to circulate in his cramped dormitory.

He fumbled around under his pillow, trying to pull out a half-wrinkled pack of cheap cigarettes.

The sound of clattering footsteps and rude laughter echoed down the corridor; it was the return of a few young workers from next door who liked to hang out with the underworld.

The sound grew closer and stopped briefly at his doorway.

"Hey, this one, okay? The one with the huge debt?"

"That's him, Zhang Mingyuan. I heard he owes tens of thousands of yuan, and the interest is terrifying."

"Tsk, stay away from him, he's bad luck. Brother Biao's people are not to be trifled with, don't get yourself splattered with blood."

"Let's go, let's go..."

The footsteps faded into the distance, carrying with them disdain and a fear that they wanted to avoid at all costs.

Zhang Mingyuan huddled in the darkness. Those numbers kept replaying in his mind: 93,000… his mother in the hospital… team efficiency… losing an arm…

Each word was like a mountain, pressing down on him so hard his spine felt like it was about to break.

Where is the way out?

run?

Where can it run to?

My mother is still in our hometown.

Going all out?

What can we use to put it together?

He even absurdly recalled what Brother Biao had said when he slapped his face last time: "With your skills, you're wasting your talent in the factory. Too bad, skills can't be used to pay off debts, Mingyuan."

Technology... Yes, he can identify which sensor on a precision placement machine is malfunctioning within ten minutes, and he can draw most of the circuit diagrams for a mainstream production line with his eyes closed.

But all of this can't buy 93,000 yuan, can't pay for my mother's medical expenses, can't earn me a kind word from my coworkers, and can only bring me the word "bad luck".

He buried his face deep in his knees, and his shoulders began to tremble slightly uncontrollably.

May our ancestors bless us... No matter which ancestor manifests...

As long as I can get through this hurdle... please don't let me become a useless person and a burden to my family...

I'd be willing to be a dog for my benefactor for the rest of my life! I'd even give him my life!

He didn't know.

A black Mercedes was driving away from the brightly lit Futian central district, steadily heading towards this place of despair where he was.

The following morning.

Guanlan, the back alley of Yongxin Electronics Factory.

Deep inside the alley, piles of waste and garbage emitted a sour, rotten smell.

Zhang Mingyuan was dragged to Brother Biao by two tattooed young men, one on each side of his arms.

His face was deathly pale, his eyes were bloodshot, and his lips were chapped.

Brother Biao leaned against the faded wall, a cigarette dangling from his lips, and squinted at him. "Hey, Engineer Zhang, you're pretty punctual. Where's the money?"

"Brother Biao... give me a few more days, I'm sure I can scrape together the money..." Zhang Mingyuan's voice was hoarse. Before he could finish speaking, a young man next to him suddenly slammed his knee into his lower abdomen.

"Ugh!" Zhang Mingyuan doubled over in pain, his stomach churning.

Brother Biao squatted down, patted his face, and said in a cold voice, "Zhang Mingyuan, I made it very clear yesterday. Ninety-three thousand, in cash. Not a penny less."

He paused, then pulled a switchblade from his back waist, snapped it open, and flashed it coldly in front of Zhang Mingyuan's eyes. "Your arm will stay here today. You believe me?"

Zhang Mingyuan was trembling all over.

He believed it, he believed it too much.

Last week, someone at the factory next door had two fingers chopped off because they owed 5,000 yuan.

"Brother Biao... I really..."

"Really not?"

Brother Biao stood up, spat to the side, and said, "Fine, let's do it the rules. Hold him down!"

The two young men immediately pinned Zhang Mingyuan against the wall, forcibly pressing his right hand against a nearby cement pipe.

Brother Biao approached, knife in hand. Only Zhang Mingyuan's heavy breathing and the faint rumbling in the distance remained in the alley.

Just as the blade was about to fall...

Two beams of bright white light shone fiercely on Brother Biao's face!

The light was so intense that his vision went completely white in an instant, and he instinctively covered his eyes with his hand, almost dropping the knife.

The two henchmen next to him were also forced to retreat by the light, cursing under their breath.

In the bright light, a blurry figure got out of the driver's seat.

Then, the car lights suddenly went out.

The alleyway darkened, but Chen Biao's eyes still retained glimmers of light.

He squinted, adjusting his eyes to the light, and the first thing he could see was not a person, but the three-pointed star emblem on the front of the car.

Mercedes-Benz E280.

Chen Biao's heart skipped a beat.

He knew this car very well; he'd seen it once before at Xiangmi Lake last year. The driver was a Hong Kong businessman, and the bodyguards with him were clearly trained fighters.

His gaze followed the car body backward and then settled on the figure that had just gotten out of the driver's seat.

Eighteen or nineteen years old?

Chen Biao's first reaction was that he had misread it.

He blinked hard. Yes, it was a face somewhere between a teenager and a young adult, dressed in a simple black T-shirt and jeans, so clean it seemed out of place in this alley.

An eighteen or nineteen-year-old young man driving a Mercedes-Benz E280?

This combination was like a heavy hammer blow, slamming into Chen Biao's more than ten years of experience in the underworld.

Countless possibilities flashed through his mind in an instant: a top-tier rich kid? The son of some big shot? Or... someone from a family he absolutely couldn't afford to offend?

"Who the hell are you?" Chen Biao blurted out, his tone still fierce, but the hand holding the knife had already subconsciously lowered a little. This was a physical instinct, a retreat when faced with an unknown threat.

Lin Dong didn't answer, but just took two steps into the alley.

His gaze swept over Zhang Mingyuan, who was pinned against the wall, and then landed on Chen Biao's face.

"Chen Biao," Lin Dong called him by his full name, his voice calm, "I will repay Zhang Mingyuan's debt."

Chen Biao's pupils contracted slightly. He knows my full name? This is premeditated.

"You'll pay it for him?" Chen Biao forced a confident stance, but his eyes involuntarily glanced at the quiet Mercedes. "Young man, do you know how much it is? Ninety-three thousand! Cash! Right now!"

He emphasized the word "cash" deliberately, as a way of testing the young man's reaction.

Lin Dong turned his head and said something to the passenger.

The car door opened, and Uncle Cai got out carrying his briefcase.

The black briefcase was placed on the ground and opened with a click.

Uncle Cai had already shown off nine bundles of brand-new banknotes.

The money is real money; the bank's seals are still on.

"Ninety thousand." Lin Dong's voice remained flat. "Eighty-five thousand in principal, five thousand in interest. Give me the IOU, and you can take the money."

Chen Biao stared at the bag of money, his mind no longer calculating the "three thousand short" amount, but rather another matter:

Why would you make an enemy of a young man who drives a Mercedes E280, is eighteen or nineteen years old, and knows your background, all for a mere three thousand yuan in interest?

I, Chen Biao, have been in this area for over a decade. My strength doesn't come from fighting, but from my sharp eyes.

I can tell who I can mess with and who I can't with just one look.

The one in front of me... is the kind you shouldn't mess with.

Absolutely not.

This judgment was made almost instantly.

Sometimes, the instincts that come with navigating the underworld are more accurate than rational calculations.

"OK!

Chen Biao snapped his knife shut with a swift, clean motion, and his fierce expression magically transformed into a slightly stiff smile. "Young man, you're straightforward! So, it'll be as you said, ninety thousand!"

He personally took out the IOU from his pocket and even unconsciously bent down slightly when handing it over.

The transaction was completed very quickly.

Chen Biao took the money, rubbed his fingers on the new bills to confirm that they were genuine.

He glanced at Lin Dong one last time, then at Zhang Mingyuan, who was slumped in the corner, and said "You're lucky" with a very complicated tone.

Zhang Mingyuan has probably run into a real dragon.

In the alley, Zhang Mingyuan was still leaning against the wall, lost in thought.

Lin Dong was already squatting in front of him, and the lighter "snap" lit the IOU.

The firelight illuminated his young, serene profile.