Farming Life Starting in Africa

Rosen chuckled and pointed to the old man in the green hat standing on a high place watching the workers at work: "You can sell these good things of yours to him. He's the one who needs your goods; old people get quite bored at night."

The little black man glanced at Qian Bida following his finger, then shook his head. He knew the man in the green hat; this man came to Port Santa Matasava every month, was very stingy, and never bought his goods.

"Okay, he's not a discerning customer." Undeterred, he waved the three DVDs featuring nude women in front of Rosen. "Really not interested in buying a few? They're fantastic, I guarantee you've never seen anything like them! Original Thai versions!"

Rosen smiled and shook his head, pulling his hat brim down as he prepared to continue dozing off.

Just then, a voice in Chinese-accented English came from behind Lawson: "Tundu, what are you doing?"

Upon hearing the voice, the Black child's face immediately lit up, and he blurted out in Chinese, "Godfather!"

Then the little black figure skipped and hopped towards the direction from which the sound came.

Rosen turned his head and cursed inwardly, "Holy crap! Is this the start of the plot?"

A man dressed in black casual clothes stood not far away, wearing a pair of old black Doc Martens with the laces tied loosely. He was lean and had a smile on his face, and he was reaching out to pat the little black man on the head.

Leng Feng then noticed Rosen leaning against the tree, and their eyes met. Leng Feng smiled and nodded, saying nothing as a greeting, before leaving with the child named Tundu.

Rosen watched their retreating figures and sighed helplessly.

It seems the situation here is really going to get chaotic. He needs to ask Qian Bida how his green card application is going.

If things don't work out, he should go back to China to lay low for a while. Qian Bida is just an ordinary person with no fighting ability. If a fight breaks out, his supermarket will definitely be the first to be robbed.

Rosen himself didn't care; he was capable of protecting himself here. But Qian Bida was different; he was afraid that the old man would make money but not live to enjoy it.

Seeing that it was almost time, Rosen stood up from under the tree, stretched his body, and walked to the dock to check on the progress of loading the cargo. He immediately saw Leng Feng and Qian Bida huddled together, chatting enthusiastically about something.

Leng Feng held a bottle of Moutai liquor in his hand, and Qian Bida stared at the bottle with a grin that almost reached his ears.

As Rosen walked over, he heard Qian Bida earnestly persuading him, "We're all Chinese, so just sell them to me at a low price. You'll earn less, but I'll buy them all for you. I'll take all twenty boxes at once, so you don't have to run around everywhere."

Leng Feng was clearly reluctant, his voice hesitant: "This is genuine Feitian Moutai that I brought over with great difficulty. Several of my friends said that this wine should be a bestseller here, and foreigners also recognize this brand."

"Hey—" Qian Bida waved his hand, looking like a seasoned veteran, "I'm not exaggerating, the cost of living here is so low that people can't afford Moutai. How much does a bottle cost? Think about it, how much do locals earn in a month? Who would spend hundreds of dollars on a bottle of liquor? I take it back to supply the leaders of wealthy organizations back home. They need this to make a good impression when they come here for inspections and meetings. At this price, I really have no profit. How about this, I'll raise the price by 10 yuan per bottle."

"That's way too low." Leng Feng frowned, rubbing his fingers against the label on the bottle. "I only make a little over a hundred yuan per bottle. After deducting shipping costs, it's like my money's been washed away. Do you know how hard it is for me to carry this all the way here?"

Qian Bida sighed and said earnestly, "There's nothing we can do about it. If you don't believe me, go ask other stores; none of them will accept this wine. My family owns the largest supermarket in Uller, and it will take us a long time to sell these twenty cases. Don't think it's too little; the price I'm offering is already the highest."

Rosen, listening nearby, found it quite amusing; Qian Bida was really setting Leng Feng up.

The export version and the domestic version of Moutai have different tastes. The export version does not have that burnt taste, is smoother and sweeter, has simpler packaging, and is cheaper; it is specifically designed for foreigners.

However, the one Leng Feng took was the domestic version, with a prominent soy sauce aroma and a rich, strong flavor. People in China recognize this one, so it's very difficult to get it through customs in large quantities.

They're usually carried over by hand, and customs even has limits—only two bottles per person. The fact that Leng Feng managed to get twenty boxes means he has special channels; his connections are pretty unconventional.

This domestic version of Moutai is priced several times higher abroad than in China, and it's often unavailable.

Leng Feng might have genuinely believed Qian Bida's lies, or perhaps he was simply too lazy to go to other places to ask. He thought for a moment, then finally nodded: "Alright, I'll keep two boxes for myself, and the rest are yours. How do we trade?"

Qian Bida smiled like a Maitreya Buddha, his wrinkles smoothing out: "Take it to my shop, I'll give you cash."

"You want me to deliver it to your door?" Leng Feng rubbed his temples, a headache forming. "Your price is already low, and now I have to deliver it myself?"

"Oh, it's just one trip," Qian Bida patted him on the shoulder. "You can familiarize yourself with the place now, and deliver any good goods you have directly here in the future."

Rosen didn't bother to interrupt.

He and Qian Bida were, after all, family. If the uncle was ripping people off, it was unreasonable for him, as the nephew, to sabotage him.

Besides, Leng Feng must have connections to bring so much domestic liquor out. As long as he keeps doing foreign trade, he'll get rich sooner or later. This tuition fee is probably just a drop in the ocean for him.

"When are we leaving?" Leng Feng walked to the domestic pickup truck he had rented and opened the door.

"We'll leave as soon as we finish loading the goods." Qian Bida pointed to the workers who were finishing up. "Just follow behind our convoy, don't get lost."

Watching Leng Feng get into the car with a sullen expression, Rosen leaned over to Qian Bida, looked at his sweaty uncle, and clicked his tongue twice: "Are you trying to make a fortune? Everyone gets a share?"

Qian Bida glanced sideways at Rosen: "Get lost. You sold your beat-up Hummer, how come you're getting a share of it?"

"Huh?" Rosen raised an eyebrow curiously. "Who said that?"

"I know everything that's going on in Ullr, down to the smallest detail. Did they sell it to that rich kid from the Zhuo family?"

Rosen chuckled and nodded, not denying it: "Hehehe, only that sucker here would be willing to pay for it." He then looked at Leng Feng in the car, "Weren't you a little too greedy?"

"Hmph." Qian Bida glanced at Leng Feng, who was looking sullen in the car, and said in a low voice, "This is called paying tuition. When the goods are delivered, I'll deduct some more money from him to teach him that he should be careful of the wickedness of people when he's out in the world."