Farming Life Starting in Africa

At this moment, a burly man with dark skin parted the crowd and walked over. He leaned close to Giselle's ear, whispered a long message in a low voice, and finally raised his arm and pointed far away towards the third floor of the factory building.

Giselle listened with her eyes downcast, nodded slightly, and turned to Rosen, who was swaying beside her. "I have to go take care of the work the boss assigned me. Shall we meet again when the game starts?"

Hearing this, Rosen immediately perked up. "Could you take me there to see for myself? I'm quite curious about what your job actually entails."

Rosen's mind was already automatically conjuring up a fantasy novel scenario: when he saw the Braga drug dealers, he would immediately grab the guy and pin him to the ground, then tell Brian and the others that this was Braga.

If Tang and Brian saw this, they would be dumbfounded. Would they come over and bow down to him and call him "Big Brother"?

However, if this really happens, Gisele will probably lose her job today and won't be able to race tonight.

Giselle stared at him for two seconds, hesitated for a moment, and then relented, but gave Rosen a heads-up beforehand: "If you're interested, you can come, but don't talk too much and don't get involved in my work, it's dangerous."

Rosen shrugged nonchalantly, spreading his hands, "Don't worry, I'll listen to you and won't say anything out of line."

How dangerous could it be? If we run into someone who doesn't know what's good for them, and one magazine of bullets isn't enough, we can just fire another rocket. What kind of situation haven't they seen before?

"Come with me." Giselle said this and followed the black henchman who had delivered the message. On the way, she bumped into Brian, who was standing alone at the corner.

Giselle's subordinate spoke to her in Spanish, and Giselle stopped, looking up at Brian: "You're someone Parker sent?"

Brian's lips curled into a signature sunny smile: "Yeah, that's right."

"Then come with me."

Several people climbed the rusty iron stairs, the metal steps clanging under their feet. The entire third floor had been converted into a spacious terrace, with exposed steel pipes overhead and warm yellow industrial chandeliers hanging down, casting a dim light.

Rosen glanced around and saw several burly Latino men with tanned skin, setting up a mini-golf course and leisurely swinging their clubs.

Rosen looked down on this sport in the white community. In his eyes, golf was just a social tool for the rich to show off, all show and no substance.

If you really want to talk business and build relationships, you have to look to the Chinese. They can find a public bathhouse, soak in a hot tub, get a comfortable shoulder and back massage, relax and get things done more efficiently. Isn't that better than swinging this broken golf club?

He leaned close to Giselle's arm, lowered his voice, and whispered, "Which one of these people is your boss?"

Giselle raised her chin slightly and winked at the short, short man in the center of the field: "Look, that's the one swinging in the middle."

Rosen looked in the direction she indicated and saw that after each swing, the short Latino man would ramble on to his henchman, spouting a bunch of grand theories, acting all high and mighty, clearly seizing every opportunity to show off, making people want to dig their toes into the ground.

The terrace offered a surprisingly good view, with the entire abandoned factory laid out before you. Rows of modified sports cars were stacked below, resembling a large auto show. The headlights and workshop lights reflected off the car bodies in layers, creating a mix of cool and warm light. Surprisingly, the chaotic space exuded a unique atmosphere.

Rosen turned to Giselle and asked, "You'll work under him for a whole year, how much will you actually make?"

Giselle raised an eyebrow, somewhat puzzled by his thoughts: "Why are you suddenly asking this?"

Rosen leaned close to her ear and whispered, "I advise you to find another way out as soon as possible. I have a feeling your boss is about to be in trouble."

Giselle's eyes widened in surprise, and she lowered her voice to ask, "How do you know he's going to be in trouble?"

At that moment, a Latino man of Black descent sat on a bench diagonally in front of them, his eyes fixed on Gisele and her companion with intense hostility. "Gisele, who's this? The driver? What's he doing standing here?"

Before Rosen could speak, Gisele stepped in front of him, saying, "He's my friend, and he's also an underground racer. Come on up and see for yourself."

The burly man stood up abruptly, his tall figure blocking their path. He narrowed his eyes, his expression arrogant. "Giselle, this isn't a place for you to hang out with your friends. Don't you know the rules?"

After saying that, he turned to Rosen, raised his chin, and said in a provocative tone, "Hey kid, you've been standing here for ages, don't you have anything to say?"

Rosen scoffed, his tone unwavering, and retorted directly, "What should I say? That you're incredibly rude? Your boss hasn't even given a word, yet you're jumping out to swagger around. So eager to show off, are you trying to become the boss?"

These words made the burly man's face turn ashen instantly, and he subconsciously turned to look at the owner who was playing golf next to him.

Braga, who had been holding the cue stick and giving his men a long lecture on the so-called rules of the game, stopped his sermon when he heard the argument. His gaze fell on the two men facing off, clearly not expecting that he would be dragged into this.

He raised his hand to gesture for Phoenix to behave, then turned his gaze to Rosen: "What are you here for?"

"Come join tonight's underground race."

Braga nodded, assuming he was also a driver applying for a delivery job, and turned to scold the burly man beside him: "Phoenix, tone it down and be polite. Everyone here earns a living with their skills; they're all our partners."

After reprimanding his subordinates, he started rambling on and on, repeatedly emphasizing the rules and regulations for transporting goods across the border, the prohibition against smuggling goods, and the prohibition against causing trouble on the road—all the old, familiar rules.

Phoenix stood to the side, his large, bell-like eyes glaring fiercely at Rosen, his face full of defiance and ferocity, like a wild beast poised to pounce. Rosen completely ignored him, turning back to chat with Giselle beside him, utterly disregarding the burly man.

It was only during the conversation that Rosen figured out what Giselle did for a living.

To put it bluntly, his job under his boss was to scout out skilled drivers. He would receive a referral fee of five thousand dollars for each person he successfully recruited to participate in border delivery.

Those drivers willing to take the risk of smuggling drugs through tunnels can earn $100,000 for a single complete mission.

Rosen became interested and tilted his head to ask her, "You're such a good driver, why don't you go and do delivery work yourself? A trip for 100,000 is much more lucrative than the referral fee."