Farming Life Starting in Africa

Seeing Rosen's shameless, nonchalant attitude, Qian Bida gave up on discussing important life matters. Women in Africa aren't all black; there are many Arabs, and some are even white. He'd spent most of his life abroad, but he still couldn't appreciate foreign things. And the beautiful women back home weren't willing to endure this hardship with him.

"Alright then, this place is getting more and more unsafe. I have a feeling something big is going to happen."

Qian Bida took a puff of his cigarette. "Since you don't want to go back, I'm planning to apply for a green card in the US. I'll help you with it too. We can go to America together, uncle and nephew. With your skills, we'll be much safer there."

Rosen gave him a strange look. America was in chaos too. Free America, gunfights every day, the gun ownership rate there was much higher than in Africa. How could his uncle, who was in international trade all his life, think that living there would be safer?

Qian Bida shook his head without saying anything more, and didn't mention having Rosen go on a blind date again. What's the point of blind dates if they really go to America? The Zhuo family's daughter, a pampered young lady, wouldn't go to a completely unfamiliar place with two grown men like them to start a new life.

He tucked the fan back into his collar, turned and walked to the front of the truck. He braced himself against the door and struggled to climb up. Standing on the roof, he squinted at a group of black men as they slowly loaded the cargo from the dock containers onto the truck.

Rosen climbed back into the pickup truck, closed the door, rolled up the window, and started the engine. The noise outside completely disappeared. The air conditioning was turned up to the maximum, and a wave of heat blew out of the vents at first, but the temperature slowly dropped after a while.

Whether or not he goes to America is actually irrelevant to him. That so-called "most developed country in the world" doesn't hold any appeal for him.

No matter how chaotic Africa is, he is confident that he can fight his way out of this hellhole, unless he clashes with the military. But he's not the third brother of the Calabash Brothers; he's not that stubborn.

This is a chaotic movie world, but thankfully there's no playboy Tony Stark or Clark Kent-Der with his underwear on the outside. As for superheroes and super-powered criminals, Rosen hasn't seen any of them making their debut in the newspapers yet.

As for mutants and such, although there are some rumors, they are currently only in comics and have not yet come out to wreak havoc on the world.

But in the nooks and crannies of this world, there are indeed some things that are not quite right. For example, Continental Hotels has branches even in the godforsaken place of Africa.

What's even more interesting is his uncle, Qian Bida. He looks remarkably like that old man, Yu, who smokes, drinks, gets perms, owns two highways, and lives in a pornographic film studio.

Qian Bida's appearance wasn't just similar, it was practically identical. The same round face, the same squinty eyes, and the same downturned mouth when he smiled. When Rosen first saw him, he almost blurted out "Teacher Yu."

Mr. Yu did not produce many films. Of the ones that Luo Sen watched in his past life and still remembers today, there are only a handful.

One of them is called "Wolf Warrior 2". Yu Daye plays a swindler who runs a small shop in Africa and cheats his fellow countrymen out of their money. Later, when war breaks out, the character who holds a box of money and shouts "I am not Chinese" is very memorable.

Rosen rolled down the window and flicked the cigarette butt out. A blast of hot air rushed in, blowing away any remaining coolness that had just settled in the car.

Rosen harbors a secret: he is a time traveler from Earth.

In his past life, his family was quite well-off. His parents took advantage of the reform and opening-up policy and worked in machinery manufacturing for half their lives, accumulating a substantial fortune.

Rosen spent his childhood in the factory with his father. While other kids played with Ultraman toys, he played with wrenches and calipers. Later, as he grew older, he started to study various mechanical structures and even paid his own way to participate in military exhibitions at home and abroad.

Once at an exhibition, I saw an industrial-grade 3D printer and was so impressed that I swiped my card and took it home on the spot.

He lived a truly comfortable life during those years. He built many interesting things at home, from simple parts to complex gun models, and even models of armored vehicles, tanks, and propeller planes. The precision became higher and higher, and the feel of the models improved.

If it weren't for the strict regulations in China, he would have been using real weapons long ago.

But people are often most vulnerable when they are at their most triumphant.

Starting at age 24, Rosen experienced recurring, persistent headaches that worsened intermittently, with only occasional headaches being normal. A hospital examination revealed a rather large tumor in his brain.

To cure this disease, you not only need enough money, but also enough luck.

His family wasn't short of money, but he didn't dare gamble on something as elusive as luck.

When faced with death, a person's fear is amplified to the maximum. This is especially true for wealthy people, who are often more afraid of death than the average person.

Finally, when he and the tumor were about to separate and perish together, Rosen was forced to overcome his fear and shakily lay down on the operating table, becoming the unlucky guy whose game was over.

When he woke up again, he found himself in the chaotic world of Africa, as a wild boy who followed his uncle out to make a living. His name was also Rosen, and he was very likely a parallel universe version of himself, because they were both handsome.

What's frustrating is that his parents died a long time ago, and they squandered all their assets.

Rosen's only remaining relative was his wealthy uncle, Qian Bida, a shrewd businessman in international trade who had sponsored Rosen's university education in China. After graduating, Rosen was idle and came to Africa to live with his rich uncle.

Rosen quite likes it here. As a Chinese man, his deep-seated love for firearms is something that ordinary people can't understand. Back in China, apart from being in the military, there's no chance to handle real guns.

But in Africa, a lawless place, it's a different story. There's no ubiquitous surveillance here. As long as you don't stand out too much and you have money, you can even run a cult here and nobody will care. The premise is that you don't use YSL in suggestive or frivolous ways as a joke, otherwise you'll really be considered heretic.

Rosen initially used his uncle's money to buy a second-hand lathe from a bankrupt machine factory, turning himself into a locally renowned craftsman.

He often takes on car modification jobs here and occasionally sells illegal modified weapons. In just one year, he has accumulated more than 100,000 US dollars in savings.

Then, he turned twenty-four again. When he woke up, he found that this time he didn't have a tumor in his head, but rather he could feel a golden fruit tree growing in his mind as soon as he closed his eyes.

Five enormous fruits grew on the tree, most of them in a white, translucent state, but one of them, a golden fruit, was radiating a halo, as if beckoning him.

Curious, he touched the golden fruit with his consciousness.

"Buzz—"

A muffled thud exploded deep within his consciousness.

The five fruits lit up at the same time, like five light bulbs being turned on simultaneously. Four of them then dimmed, leaving only the golden one still shining.

Then, a warm current slowly spread from the head to the limbs and bones, and finally slowly returned to the heart.

From this heat, countless golden threads slowly separated and seeped into his blood, muscles, and bones.