After my divorce at thirty, I developed an intelligence network.

He glanced at the shelves; the upper shelves were filled with Zhonghua, Yuxi, and Furongwang cigarettes. His gaze lingered on the Zhonghua cigarettes for a moment, and he asked:

"Boss, do you have Bai Jiang?"

Yes...there are.

The person who responded was a young and pretty girl, who looked to be no more than twenty years old, with her hair tied in a simple ponytail.

She stood up from behind the counter, her movements a little clumsy. She turned around and fumbled around for a while before taking out a box of white liquor and placing it on the glass counter.

Gong Yuelong immediately understood—this was probably the shop owner's daughter, temporarily assigned to watch the shop. She still had a touch of student-like restraint on her face.

Seeing the girl's expression, he smiled and had an idea. "Miss, how many cigarettes do you have left? Can I... buy them all? I need them urgently."

The young and pretty girl shook her head, "No, my dad said each person can only buy one box; we need to save some for our coworkers."

Gong Yuelong didn't rush to argue.

He gave a wry smile. "I know the rules. If I can't buy these few packs of cigarettes today, I won't even be able to strike up a conversation at the project site..." He paused. "My daughter is six years old this year. Please help me today, just as a father helping his daughter."

The girl was stunned. She looked at the clean-cut man in front of her, and his words about helping her father touched her heart.

She thought of her father's tireless work every day and bit her red lips.

"...Then wait a moment."

She turned around and pulled out a brand new red plastic bag from under the shelf, then opened it.

Then, put a total of six boxes of white medicine into a plastic bag.

After doing all this, she seemed to be encouraging herself, or perhaps explaining to Gong Yuelong, and muttered to herself:

"My dad... shouldn't yell at me."

She gently pushed the red plastic bag in front of Gong Yuelong.

Gong Yuelong didn't say much, just gave her a deep look, nodded, and scanned the code to pay.

He pushed open the door and went out; the afternoon sun was a bit too bright.

He glanced back and sighed inwardly: This girl is too honest. With just a few words of sob story, she's abandoned all manners. He wondered if her father would actually scold her when he got back.

Then look ahead at the Gold Coast construction site.

He touched his cigarette; at least he had enough food for the next few days, and he also had leverage to exchange information.

I took two boxes out of the bag and then walked towards the project site.

The information provided by the system has been used up, but life goes on day by day, and the debt still needs to be paid off little by little.

He had to try his luck and see if this place called the Gold Coast could provide him with a meal.

Gong Yuelong walked straight to the security room at the main entrance of the construction site.

Experience told him that the gatekeepers of these large projects were often related to the project managers and were the gossips on the ground.

Inside the window, an elderly man in his early sixties was listening to the radio.

Gong Yuelong knocked on the window and threw in two packs of cigarettes. "Master, have a smoke."

The old man glanced at the cigarette, took it, opened it, and his expression softened. "Looking for work?" he asked, lighting the cigarette.

"Hey, just trying to make a living. This construction site is big, the rules are strict, and outsiders probably won't get any odd jobs." Gong Yuelong, following suit, lit up a cigarette for himself.

"I was thinking, is there any troublesome thing like dealing with waste materials? Like scrap steel bars, broken formwork, etc., I can help clean them up, which would be a small favor for the project team."

"Oh, you're collecting scrap metal... Forget about the steel bars, they're already taken." The old man exhaled a puff of smoke.

"There's a pile of scrap wood, from the demolition of Building 3. A lot of it still has nails in it, and it's piled up in the southwest corner. The scrap collectors find it too troublesome and offer low prices, and the project team is too lazy to bother with that little bit of money."

He glanced at Gong Yuelong: "If you really want to do this, go talk to Engineer Chen, who's in charge of materials. But not today, there's an inspection in the city. Come back tomorrow!"

"Okay, thank you, sir! I'll know roughly how many cartloads you can make."

The old man replied, "I'd guess three or four truckloads."

Gong Yuelong felt reassured. "Okay, I understand. I'll come again tomorrow!"

Gong Yuelong drove his creaking pickup truck and visited two more construction sites.

The project's doors were tightly shut, and the security guard waved his hand, saying there was no work available and to look elsewhere, without even giving them a chance to inquire.

I did go into the other project area, walked around the material storage area twice, chatted with a few unfamiliar workers, and offered them cigarettes.

We chatted for ages, but nothing came of it.

"Damn it, what a waste of a good cigarette," Gong Yuelong muttered to himself, but didn't show it on his face.

He was used to it; these days, without connections and influence, it's hard to scrape together a living from a big construction site.

Overall, though, my luck wasn't too bad today.

That eight hundred yuan from this morning was real money in my pocket.

In the afternoon on the Gold Coast, he was cleaning up waste timber. It sounded like dirty and tiring work, but he knew the ins and outs of it better than anyone else.

If you clean up that pile of wood and take it to the scrap yard, you can probably scrape off two or three hundred yuan.

After deducting the cost of fuel, you'll net at least a hundred or two. How much did it actually cost? Two boxes of liquor! What a bargain!

More importantly, once he takes on this job, Gong Yuelong will be able to legitimately enter and leave the project department and strike up a conversation with Engineer Chen.

People are all about familiarity. If you can clean up scrap wood today, you might come across some other scraps tomorrow.

Grandpa Sun said the steel bars had been taken, but humph, once I'm inside this door and have a firm foothold, those steel bars that others can't touch... might just be something I can figure out.

Ultimately, all these things in the project department are managed by people, aren't they? He knew that very well. It's just a matter of giving them a bigger cut; simple.

I looked up at the sky; it was dark.

"That's a wrap!" He patted the steering wheel, his stomach rumbling at just the right moment.

He had a good income today, so he decided to treat himself well—at least better than usual.

The car swayed as it drove towards the rented area on the outskirts of the city.

As he passed by the Maying Farmers Market, the red sign for Zidu Fried Meat made his mouth water.

He used to buy from that fried meat stall when he was General Manager Gong. It was crispy on the outside and tender on the inside. He would always ask the clerk to sprinkle extra five-spice powder on it, and it smelled wonderful.

The price is also clear: 28 yuan per jin (8g).

He glanced at the sign: 28.8 yuan... He subconsciously touched his pocket.

I paid back 300 of the 800 I had this morning to Lao Zhao, spent a dozen yuan on food, and gas... I need to be careful with the money I have left.

One pound of fried meat and half a day's odd jobs are wasted.

"Tsk..." He clicked his tongue. Oh well.

Arriving at the butcher stall, he said, "Give me seven yuan's worth of pork belly, just seven yuan's worth, please, please, no more than that, I don't want any more!"

The boss didn't say anything, cut the meat in one swift motion, and threw it onto the electronic scale. "Seven yuan and twenty cents, seven yuan it is."

After taking the pork belly, I went to the tofu stall. "Two yuan's worth."

When it came time to pay, he hesitated for a moment, looked at the tender white tofu, and added, "Tofu... could you add two yuan more? That'll make it four yuan in total, I don't want any more."

He gave a wry smile and said, "This is what it means to downgrade one's consumption."

Carrying the meat and tofu back to the car, the aroma of the fried meat still wafted into my nose.

He shook his head and started the car.

Seven yuan worth of meat, four yuan worth of tofu, plus some vegetables, and you can have a decent meal for dinner.