After receiving his wages, Fang Damiao told the foreman that something had happened back home. Seeing how hard he was working this year, the foreman believed him and asked, "When are you coming back to work?"
"Boss, we don't know yet. We also don't know if my dad's condition will improve. It's hard to say. I want to come back and do it as soon as possible. If it really can't be done, I'll have to stay in my hometown for a while longer." Fang Damiao left himself some leeway regarding whether he would come back to do it.
His father passed away a long time ago, so he can make up any lie without any scruples.
Fang Damiao boarded a train to Guangzhou the next day.
The train station was filled with people and the humid wind. Fang Damiao stood in the square, clutching all the savings he had brought from the construction site, feeling somewhat lost.
Having just quit his arduous job of reinforcing steel bars, he was preoccupied with finding an "easy and lucrative job." However, after spending several days at the labor market, he found either low-paying odd jobs or skilled work requiring experience, none of which suited his taste.
“If I had the capital, I would set up a stall. They say a stall can sell several hundred yuan worth of goods in one night.” Two people next to me were chatting.
How can a business generate several hundred dollars in one night? Fang Damiao also chimed in, "Brother, where is the place you're talking about?"
"You're new here, aren't you?" one of them asked, looking him up and down.
"Yes, that's right." Fang Damiao nodded quickly.
"The West Lake Road night market is very lively at night. You can go and have a look. Even if you don't buy anything, it's good to feast your eyes."
That evening, Fang Damiao inquired around and went to find it. The further he walked, the brighter the streetlights became, and the closer the noisy voices of people grew.
Turning the corner of Zhongshan Fifth Road, he suddenly stopped. The West Lake Road in front of him was filled with densely packed stalls, and hundreds of fluorescent lights formed a sea of lights, illuminating the night sky as if it were daytime.
The stalls were filled with brightly colored printed shirts, trendy sunglasses, and sandals with high heels, and the vendors were shouting loudly to attract customers.
He was squeezed into the crowd and pushed forward.
At the stall on the left, the proprietress was efficiently helping customers try on clothes, collecting money, and packing them up in one go. At the stall on the right, the stall owner had written "Same style as in Hong Kong" on a piece of cardboard, and a group of young girls were haggling over the price.
The air was filled with the smell of sweat and cheap perfume, but Fang Damiao found it exceptionally vibrant. He looked at the banknotes the stall owners were collecting and the undisguised smiles on their faces, and something seemed to ignite within him.
Fang Damiao felt it was really necessary to come out. He had never seen such a scene in his hometown. It was really necessary to come out of the construction site to see for himself. "They work themselves to the bone all day tying steel bars under the scorching sun, but here they set up a stall, sleep during the day, and count their money at night."
He squatted down next to a T-shirt stall, watching the stall owner fold T-shirts with celebrity images printed on them. The stall owner thought he wanted to buy clothes and looked up to ask, "Which one do you want? Ten yuan a piece, cheap!"
Fang Damiao shook his head and pointed to the stall, "Brother, how much can you earn from this stall in a day?"
The stall owner grinned. "What, you want to set up a stall at the night market too?"
"Hehe, I was just asking casually. With so many people here, the stall fees must be expensive, right?"
"It's about 36 yuan a month." The stall owner didn't hide this fact, which everyone knew, and said it directly, "But it's not easy to get a stall, there are no vacant stalls right now."
Fang Damiao nodded and wandered around the night market for a long time, walking from one end of the street to the other, observing which stalls were doing well, how the vendors greeted customers, and how they bargained with them. He only reluctantly turned back when the night market was almost over and the stall owners began packing up.
The lively atmosphere of the night market still lingers in the evening breeze.
Da Miao lay on the cramped, hard bed in the hotel, the sea of lights and the busy figures of the vendors at the West Lake Road night market flashing before her eyes again and again.
He tossed and turned, unable to sleep, so he simply got up and went downstairs to ask, "Boss lady, do you know where they get their goods from at the night market?"
"What kind of goods? There are plenty at the night market."
“Well, for example, a T-shirt.” Fang Damiao paused, then immediately corrected himself, “Oh no, I mean a short-sleeved shirt.”
"Short-sleeved shirts? You can check them out on Gaodi Street or Zhanqian Road."
"good."
"You should go there early," the landlady added.
"Okay. Thank you!"
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