Electronic Nezha

Chapter 151 Dog Skin Plaster
Actually, there were empty rooms upstairs. The reason I occupied Ma Chaoran's dormitory was simply because Liu Zhenhua's room was right next door. Perhaps he felt that it would be more reassuring for my father and me to live closer to each other when we first arrived. And then... and then I was able to write a short essay called "About the Little Thing I Did These Days While Sleeping on a Hand Grenade".

Ma Chaoran went to the room diagonally opposite mine. It would be a lie to say that I wasn't upset at all, but people are always more adaptable than they think. What kind of life am I living now? I wear a bulletproof vest to sell fruit every day, with a sniper watching my every move from above. Sleeping on a grenade doesn't seem so unacceptable anymore.

Over the next few days, you'd never guess what new hobby I'd developed—yes, I'd fallen in love with shooting. Every day after dinner, if I didn't fire a few magazines of bullets, it felt like something was missing. The charm of shooting games lies in the fact that, under fair conditions, even a complete novice can occasionally beat a pro. If you asked me to play a one-on-one against a professional, I'm confident I could win one or two out of ten matches.

The same applies to shooting. Ordinary people can quickly reach a stage where focus and talent are crucial with minimal training, something impossible in other sports. Take an ordinary middle-aged person like myself as an example. If the Olympic Committee insisted on giving me a spot in the Olympic finals, with any event I could choose, what would I pick to avoid a less embarrassing defeat? Forget about long-distance running or race walking; you'd only slow down the venue's turnover rate—the competition was supposed to start at 3 pm and end at 4 pm, but your participation would extend it to the next morning.

High jump and diving, which require skill, are also not suitable; ordinary people would easily become oddballs on the field—of course, this also applies to some professional athletes.

If you can't shoot, and someone else scores 10.9 rings while you only score 6, the commentator will immediately explain that it's because you weren't in good form, that missing the target is okay, it's just that your mental fortitude isn't up to par.

And you might not believe it, but I'm a complete novice, and I've never missed a shot on the 10-meter target. Once, I deliberately dragged a chubby kid into a competition with me, and we were evenly matched. Anyway, I've found my new talent, and I'm enjoying it immensely and steadily improving. My goal: to win first place in the next neighborhood 10-meter pistol target competition, if I ever do.

That day, as I was passing through the market gate as usual, I noticed that Sister Zhao was surrounded by a group of people. Sister Zhao was holding several flyers and handed one to me. When I looked at it, I realized it was a notice from the government announcing that a New Year's goods festival would be held in the spice market near the cold storage before the Lunar New Year.

Everyone is familiar with the Lunar New Year shopping festival. Ten days or so before the New Year, a large venue is set up to sell New Year's goods, including tea, candy, cigarettes, alcohol, dried fruit, couplets, and food stalls. Our local Lunar New Year shopping festival has been held twice, both times at the convention center. This year, the convention center is hosting events again, and the condiment market is essentially opening up a second front. This place has been empty since it was cleared out, which has probably become a headache for the government, who want to make it shine again and attract more people.

The flyer stated that this year's New Year's shopping festival would last for a week, with each stall being 16 square meters and a management fee of 1600 yuan.

The market owners are discussing whether they should set up a fruit stall in the spice market.

The general results are in, and Sister Zhao's statement is the most typical:
"They're only 100 meters apart. If we move our stall there and end up paying them 1600 yuan, isn't that just pointless?"

The group of bosses burst into laughter.

I didn't think much of it, so I took the flyer back to the stall to discuss it with Lao Wang. I asked him directly, "What do you think?"

Old Wang seemed hesitant: "If the management fee is thirty or fifty yuan a day, we'll definitely do it. Think about it, when we go to the New Year's shopping festival, everyone is carrying a bunch of things. If we can get all the fruit we need, who would want to cross the main road just to come to the fruit market? I'm just afraid that if we set up a stall there, all the money we make will end up going to the management fee."

That's exactly what I was thinking. After years in business, Lao Wang and I have developed a knack for this. We've never lost money before, but we're most afraid of working for nothing.

At that moment, Li Ping also walked into our room with a flyer in her hand. As soon as she entered, she asked, "Are you going or not?"

I said, "I'm really torn."

Li Ping said, "Sister Hu and I have decided to set up a stall. We'll split up; she'll stay at the main site during the annual goods festival."

Old Wang said, "If we're going to do it, it'll definitely be like this. It just depends on whether I go or Fengzi goes."

Li Ping said, "Then let's set one up. Our two stalls will still be together, and if things get busy, one person will be enough." Lao Wang and I both lit up. Over the years, Li Ping and I have looked after each other. Although we have two stalls, we are like family and have never had any disagreements. And don't think that selling the same thing makes us competitors. This is called the clustering effect.

Just then, the owner of the stall next to us shouted loudly from outside: "Liu Chuanfeng, someone is looking for you."

As soon as I went outside, I saw two people standing at the next stall, looking like they were in a hurry, as if they had been asking questions all the way here.

The first person I saw was Chen Zihan's father. The person behind him was wearing a mask and had pulled the hood of his down jacket over his head, covering himself up even more thoroughly than the day Dolphin beat up Zhang Biao.

I asked in surprise, "Director Chen?"

Director Chen grabbed my sleeve and pulled me aside, whispering, "Is there a place where we can talk?"

At the same time, I heard Jinli's voice through my earpiece: "Brother Feng, is that your friend?"

I nodded to myself.

"Don't leave my sight. And what's with that other one? It looks weird."

I said to Director Chen, "Let's talk about it here—did my brat bully Chen Zihan?" That was all I could think of. Although Liu Zhenhua was a bit "out of line," to put it bluntly, a childish brat, he never bullied anyone, let alone female classmates. When I was in school, I thought I did a good job in this regard, except for that time when he was playing with a longhorn beetle and scared my deskmate so much that she screamed in class. Where did Liu Zhenhua catch a longhorn beetle in the middle of winter?

"It's my teacher... who needs to talk to you." Director Chen gesturing for the person behind him to step forward. The person removed his mask, revealing his face, and said, "Teacher Liu... it's me."

It's Huang Jiaoming!

Feeling guilty, I looked around nervously and said speechlessly, "How did you find this place?"

Huang Jiaoming put on his mask and said to Director Chen, "Xiao Chen, why don't you go and look around somewhere else?" Director Chen looked at us both with a suspicious expression and walked to the side.

Huang Jiaoming suddenly grabbed my hand: "I need your help with something—there's a patient who just had a car accident, and the situation is similar to Chen Zihan's. I need you to draw me another mind map like the one last time!"

I shook his hand hard and said, "The patient is lying on the operating table, aren't you going to hurry up and operate on him, instead of going to talk to the fruit vendor for a solution?" The old man is indeed a veteran of 7000 surgeries. At my age and his age, I just couldn't shake him off!

Huang Jiaoming gripped my hand even tighter and said, "Don't say any more. I know only you can help me. It's a life!"

(End of this chapter)