I'm a Master in India

Smith was an artist proficient in illustration, stage design, photography, and a range of related creative endeavors.

A major goal of his trip to India was to sketch the local customs and culture.

Therefore, he wouldn't miss ancient structures like temples and grottoes. For three days, Ron had been taking him to scenic spots all over Mumbai.

Hinduism, Islam, Jainism, Buddhism – any style was welcome. Anywhere you wanted to see, they could go.

Of course, these tourist attractions were teeming with fellow scam artists.

Those holding cameras, inviting you to take pictures – if you foolishly agreed, they would definitely demand money afterward.

Then there were those clutching cash, offering to exchange foreign currency on the spot, and those passing off inferior brass as gold jewelry – countless scams.

If Ron and Anand hadn't been there to watch over him, Smith might have been swindled out of his very pants.

"Ron, traveling in India really requires a qualified guide."

"I'm glad you say so. I'll take that as a compliment."

"Of course, of course. Here's my card. If anyone I know comes to India, I'll definitely have them look for you."

Smith was preparing to leave, having spent five days in Mumbai. According to his previously set travel plan, he would take a train to Goa tomorrow.

"I'd recommend you take a plane instead. India's trains really aren't suitable for you," Ron advised, handing over his contact information.

"Haha, don't worry. Have you forgotten? We first met at the train station in Mumbai."

"Alright then, I'll help you book the train tickets. Oh, right, if you ever buy tickets yourself, remember to buy tickets with the AC label. Only those carriages have air conditioning."

"Thank you, that's very useful. Before leaving, could you help me exchange some more rupees? I doubt there will be such a good opportunity in Goa."

Ron and Anand exchanged a glance and nodded without hesitation, "Of course!"

For the next half-day, Smith packed his belongings at the hotel, while Ron and Anand went their separate ways, one to buy tickets, the other to exchange rupees.

According to their agreement, their employment relationship ended there.

But the next morning, Ron and Anand still came to Victoria Train Station to see the old gentleman Smith off.

"God bless you!"

"Thank you, thank you!"

Being in a foreign land, yet being cared for by two locals like a friend, moved Smith deeply.

"I should go now."

"Goodbye."

He boarded the train, waving goodbye. As the train faded into the distance with a whistle, a journey came to an end.

"Ron..."

Looking at the gradually blurring train, Anand looked sentimental.

"What's wrong?"

"Will there ever be another fat sheep like that again?"

Ron rolled his eyes, not wanting to answer him.

"Wait, what are you holding in your hand?"

"Oh, you mean this?" Ron waved the bag in his hand. "Mr. Smith gave me two bottles of whiskey, original British goods."

"How come I didn't get any?" Anand's eyes widened.

Ron laughed, but he just wouldn't answer him.

"I knew that old man didn't like me. He's biased!"

"Alright, let's go have a drink now to celebrate this deal."

Hearing there was alcohol to drink, Anand immediately followed him excitedly.

There was no place to buy cups at the train station. With great difficulty, they got a disposable cup from the dispatcher, so they had to make do.

Ron unscrewed the bottle and poured a little, and just as he was about to take a sip, he saw Anand staring at him expectantly, so he handed the cup over for him to taste first.

"Thank you so much, Ron," Anand said, deeply touched, his eyes wide with joy.

He took the cup and tilted his head back, pouring some wine into his mouth, the rim of the cup not touching his lips at all.

The reason for this wasn't because he was hygienic, but because he knew he was a Dalit, while Ron was a Brahmin.

In India, Brahmins would never use things that Dalits had used. In extreme cases, Brahmins wouldn't even step on the roads that Dalits had walked on, or even their shadows.

Brahmins with means would hire dedicated Brahmin chefs, and they wouldn't eat anything made by lower castes.

Although Ron wasn't too particular about these things, Anand never forgot his identity, and he always maintained a sense of respect in his heart.

"Fantastic! Top-notch Johnnie Walker, great!" Anand squinted his eyes happily.

"Have some more if you like."

"Just a little more, thank you." Anand tilted his head back and drank again, the wine gurgling down his throat.

He licked his lips and tilted his head back to continue drinking, "Oh! Sorry, really sorry, this whiskey is just too delicious, I couldn't help myself."

"If you like it, I'll give it to you. I have another bottle."

"Oh, thanks..." Anand replied, but the smile on his face suddenly collapsed, turning into a sad expression.

"What's wrong, you don't want it?"

"I want it, I want it! Ron, I really want it. But if I had known this was my whiskey, not your whiskey, I wouldn't have gulped it down so greedily."

Ron couldn't help but laugh, "Just drink it, I'll give you the remaining bottle too, I don't drink much."

"Really?" Anand's face bloomed with a smile again.

"My interest in rupees is much greater than my interest in alcohol." Ron handed over the unopened bottle.

"That's right, you have to make money before you can buy alcohol to drink." Anand took the unopened bottle and carefully tucked it into his arms as if it were a treasure.

"Now that the fat sheep is gone, I should think carefully about what to do next."

"Actually, there's no need to rush. The money I earned in these few days is more than my entire income for the whole of last year."

Anand used to be a rickshaw puller, and in good times, his monthly income could be 500 rupees.

But just by helping Smith exchange foreign currency twice, he took a 3,500 rupee commission.

Adding in the handicraft scam on the first day, as well as the rickshaw pulling, taxi driving, and collecting tips in the following days, Anand squeezed a full seven thousand rupees out of Smith alone.

This made him feel like he was dreaming, lightheaded. Of course, he didn't think this was a side effect of the whiskey.

As for Ron, he took the lion's share of the guide service, earning even more.

The commission on the first day alone was 4,600 rupees, and including the guide fee and the 20-pound tip, it totaled 5,520 rupees.

Later, he earned a commission of 7,700 rupees from exchanging foreign currency, which he and Anand agreed to split at a ratio of 7:3.

Plus the guide fee and Smith's generous tips, he had more than 6,800 rupees in additional income.

Adding all of this together, Ron's savings had exceeded 20,000 rupees.

Measured by ordinary people's standards, he certainly had no worries about food and drink in the short term.

But that wasn't enough, not nearly enough.

"Anand, do you know how to start a company in India?"

"I don't know."

"Then do you know who to look for? I mean, someone who can take care of a lot of unnecessary troubles."

"Look, there's one right there." Anand raised his chin towards the distance.

Following his gaze, Ron saw a menacing patrolman holding a wooden stick.